AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes, but no. Company.”
Company. Cops.
For a second, I thought about having him direct them to The Cigar Bar, but if the heat came down, Gallo’s man might do something drastic with my wife.
“Keep your phone close.” I hung up. I dialed another number that I hadn’t in a while. It rang, rang, rang, until I thought it was going to voicemail. He picked up on the last ring.
“This must be good,” he said, his deep voice close to a rumble.
“Uncle” I said, always using the more formal title with him. “I need a favor.”
Tigran Macaluso was in deep with the Armenians, but he did business with the Italians. To put it in terms of countries, the Italians and Armenians were allies. This was a personal situation, though, and I needed someone I could trust to deal with Sonny, and my wife, once I dealt with The Cigar Bar.
I didn’t talk to him much, though. Aren was the oldest, and ma was in the middle. She was close to both of her brothers growing up, but Tigran was the baby, and she took care of him like he was hers. Aren was the son who swayed with the direction of the wind. He was happy being a cabbie and being there when anyone needed him. But Tigran was always into criminal shit. Michele knew it, and as always, didn’t think highly of his choices. But he tolerated him for ma’s sake. Until one day, when ma was pregnant with me, Tigran’s house was attacked. A bullet grazed ma’s neck, and Michele was done.
Ma kept in touch with him, but it was never the same. Tigran respected Michele’s boundaries because he said Michele was good to his sister, and she loved him. He didn’t want to come in between that. I could always count on him, though. I only had to say the word.
“What needs to be done?”
I gave him a brief recap of the situation and what I needed. He went quiet for a second before he turned to someone and told them in Armenian it was time to ride. I turned to Molly when the phone went dead.
“Tigran is coming here?”
“Yeah,” I said, texting her the number. “He’s going to get help for Sonny. Keep that number. Keep him updated.”
She nodded. “He needs it, as soon as possible.”
“You know Tigran?”
“Somewhat,” she said. “I’ve seen him before. Met him once when he came to visit Carine when she was sick. Michele was at the bakery.”
“Only open the door for him. He’s going to get an ambulance and have Sonny taken to a certain hospital. He’s going to stay with him until I can finish this.”
I picked up one of the dead guy’s guns, making sure it was ready to go. I handed it to Molly. She tested the weight of it in her hands before she nodded.
“He doesn’t deserve this,” she said, looking at Sonny again. “He never even told them—”
“Give me your keys,” I said. I was going to make sure Sonny and his daughters had a chance to resolve the lies between them. I refused to let my wife live with knowing the truth, but not being able to tell him that she did. She deserved that, and so did he.
She dug in the pocket of her robe and pulled out an old tissue. “Shit,” she said, throwing it on the floor. Her hands were covered in blood and shaking. She dug back in again. “Here.”
I stuck them in my pocket. “Tigran will go with Sonny, because Gallo might feel the need to finish the job. Two of his men will take you to your place. Get Minnie and your sister and get out.”
Sirens wailed in the distance. Her eyes flew up to mine.
“You called an ambulance?” Her shock turned into confusion.
“No,” I said. “They’re after me. If they come knocking here, don’t answer. If something happens and you have to talk to them, tell them you’re keeping an eye on the place. Since it’s empty and about to be rented out. But whatever you do, don’t let them in. Tigran will take care of it once he gets here.”
I ducked out of the back of the house, jumping over fences to get to Molly’s before the cops got to the street. The sirens were closer. Their flashing lights pulsated in the night. They were turning down the street as I got to Molly’s car and slipped inside.
It was a 1987 Oldsmobile Cutlass Cruiser Station Wagon with a blue hood and wooden trim. It had a sticker on the bumper that said, “Violence is not the answer. Choose love.” Next to that one was a peace sign. And next to that one was “Into the Dough,” with the Valentino’s logo on it. She kept “Woodie,” as she called it, in pristine condition. I started it up, and gospel music blared.
I backed out of the driveway, cruising at a slow pace down the street. None of them followed me. Most of them were hovering around my car while the rest came to a stop in front of Sonny’s house. The K9 unit had arrived. I hoped Tigran could get them moving fast. He knew people in high places. Sonny needed serious attention. Soon.
It felt like hours had passed, but it had only been minutes.
The Cigar Bar was empty when I pulled into the parking lot. Just like with weddings, bars needed people. I walked straight into the place. No one. The smell of blood and gun powder hung in the air. The lights were low, only candles on the tables flickering. Blood glistened, smeared on the floor. I followed the trail, my heartbeat heavy in my ears.
