Hipster Holocaust- Chapter 38

 

O’Malley and Johnson walked into the interrogation room and sat across from Fat Louie DeMaio. Fat Louie sat all calm and collected like a guinea Buddha. He didn’t look calm at first glance because he was sweating like a pig. But that was because of his thermostat not his energy. He was stoic almost meditative as he waited. Louie was cuffed to the table and had to lean slightly forward because he was too fat to sit back as his stomach kept him away from the edge of the table.

O’Malley gestured to Johnson. “Why don’t you unhook this fine gentleman Detective Johnson so we can have a little chat?” Johnson grimaced but went across the table and unlocked the cuffs. Fat Louie sat back and rubbed his wrist that had been severely chaffed as the cuffs as usual where too small for his meaty wrist. He looked at O’Malley expectantly like he would have to answer as to why he was sitting there in a too small chair in a too small room.

“Well boyo it looks like we need some answers from you. Detective Johnson has some questions and it would behoove you to answer.” Fat Louie smiled and said, “I would be happy to help if I can Detective. Who are you by the way? I didn’t catch the name.” O’Malley smiled. This one was sharp. “Detective Sergeant O’Malley to be sure Mr. DeMaio. I am in charge of this little merry band and I would appreciate if you would answer us truthfully and clearly so we can get you out of here as expeditiously as possible.” “Fair enough Sergeant but I don’t see how I can help you. I told Detective Johnson that I only knew the girl in passing as someone to buy flowers from and no more. We met maybe three times in all. You know who I am I guess?” “I am aware.” O’Malley said. “None of the boys knew anything more. Certainly Mr. Aiello didn’t. How can I help?” O’Malley turned to Johnson, “Yes how can he help Detective?” Johnson silently fumed as he regretted bring this fat fuck into the station. His temper was going to get him in deep shit someday. “I think you know something more than you are telling us. Is there any word on the street about these killings. The girl worked a block away from you. Didn’t any of your mooks hit on her and try to get over? I know how you guinea bastards operate. This is bullshit man because you have your ear to the street and you have to know something. Give me something and you can walk out of here.” Fat Louie just gave him the dead eye. “I don’t have any idea what you are talking about. Nobody has been talking about these murders except as it being a shame. It has nothing to do with us. You know that is not what we do. The only other thing I can tell you is that she worked at the Ace Hardware on Court Street. Maybe she got in a beef there or something. The guys there were more likely to hit on her and try to get over. She wasn’t the type of girl my guys go for. They don’t stick it in hipsters. It’s beneath them. So you see I don’t know anything.”

O’Malley took over the questioning from the floundering Johnson. “That is fine as far as it goes concerning Miss Winship who is the poor lass from the nursery. How about the first victim Sunshine Eastman? She worked in a boutique on Court Street. Do you have any knowledge of her at all?” “Never heard of her. Never went into that store as far as I can remember. I have nothing to help you with there.” “How about this new one this Goldie Hirschberg? Do you or yours have any knowledge of her?” Fat Louie smirked at that question. “No, I don’t know some random Jew broad. Why would I know her? She was a civilian. Nobody would deal with her. No way.” O’Malley agreed. “That was what I thought. So you have nothing to add now do you son?’ “I told this moolie all I know at the club this morning.” Johnson bristled at the insult. “Listen you fat fuck you can’t talk to me that way. I will fuck up your shit!” Johnson moved up as though he was going to jump across the table. O’Malley put his arm as a bar across his chest and firmly pushed him back into his chair. He was old but quite strong. “There be none of that now Detective Johnson. Mr. DeMaio is rightfully upset that you cuffed him and dragged him down here for no reason. Humiliating in fact.  Now in light of the fact that he could lodge a complaint that in my view would be substantiated I think we can give him a little leeway. Now why don’t you go get Detective DeStefano to come in here and you go and cool off.” Johnson glared at the silver haired Irishman who said gently, “That’s an order Detective.”

Johnson got up and stormed out of the room. O’Malley turned to the sweating Mafiosi who was enjoying the byplay and said “I am correct am I not Mr. DeMaio. You will not be making a complaint against Detective Johnson?’ “I wasn’t planning on it. Although I think the old man might be pissed at what he pulled on the street today. That was very disrespectful to him ya know what I mean?” O’Malley smiled his thin Irish smile and said, “Be that as it may I hope he gets over it quickly. You can tell him from me that the New York City Police Department meant no disrespect and I apologize for the mistakes of an over zealous Detective who is naturally distraught of this series of murders that are plaguing your neighborhood. The key word is “Your” neighborhood. I had always heard that you people protected your turf from street crime. That poor girl was right down the block from your playhouse now don’t you know. What does the old man have to say about that.” Fat Louie laughed out loud. “What are you saying Sarge? That we should police the neighborhood like we used to do in the old days. If we did that spook Johnson would never have made it past Hamilton Avenue. Those fucking days are over. The neighborhood has changed. It went from ninety nine percent Italian to about twenty if that. We don’t have the people watching out to let us know what is going on anymore. You know that. Why pretend?”

O’Malley agreed. “Yes, what you say it true. If you don’t perform the same function then maybe Mr. Aiello might understand that he will not get the same deference and respect. I am old enough to remember how it used to be. But it is not like that anymore and I am sure that Mr. Aiello is just as cognizant of the same facts.” Fat Louie had to get in a shot. He was pretending to be above it all but he was still pissed. “Yeah, you are old enough to remember that. I bet you were old enough to be on the Pad too! The respect the coppers get has changed too. You used to be useful. Nowadays not so much. The deference is not there anymore for youse guys. The old rules are shot. So many guys turned rat that if you have to survive you have to do what you have to do. I recommend you tell your boy that.”

O’Malley’s ice blue Irish eyes stopped smiling and narrowed. “Are you trying to tell me something son? Something I don’t want to hear?” “No, I ain’t. Not specifically. Just that the old man ain’t predictable no more. Like I said the old rules don’t apply. I think your boy needs to realize that before we get in a situation. He might want to steer clear of us that’s all. Word to the wise.” “I don’t think he needs to fret too much since you are not going to do anything and neither is that old man. His time is past and he knows that we will come down on him like a ton of bricks if he dares to do anything to a sworn officer. That never changes regardless of how we feel about the individual. Why do I need to tell you this? You should know it by now. So get it in your head son before you make a big mistake.”

Detective DeStefano walked into the room and looked at O’Malley for direction. “Ah Anthony here you are. Would you be so kind as to transport this fine gentleman wherever he might wish to go. I assume that would be the club on Carroll Street?’ “That’s fine. Thank you.” “Please give my regards to Mr. Aiello and please pass on my message to him. All of it.” “Sure.”

Fat Louie hoisted himself out and walked out of the room following DeStefano out of the room and then out of Brooklyn South. Everyone they passed looked at them and wondered what the story was but they didn’t stop as they fled the premises.

Fat Tony and DeStefano walked silently to the Crown Vic that DeStefano had requisitioned from the front desk. He had left his original ride for Johnson as he didn’t want to deal with the bullshit if he didn’t.  Fat Louie reached to the side of the seat and pulled the lever down so he could push the seat back as far as it would go. Even so it was a tight fit. That is why Louie only messed around with SUV’s these days.

“Hey you’re Leo the Lip’s nephew, right?” Fat Louie asked as they drove away from Brooklyn South. “Yeah. I am” DiStefano wanted to keep the interaction to a minimum. “Well then you know the dealio. That moolie fucked up big time. I know your Mick boss thinks that they are inviolable but those fucking days are over. The climate has changed. You know if every mutt can throw water and piss on cops and refuse to be arrested then you know the old man is not gonna take this shit. I want to head off trouble if I can.” DeStefano drove silently. He didn’t want to get involved. He wanted to go back to Staten Island where there was no crime to speak of that wasn’t a DUI or a domestic. The silence lengthened until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Look I don’t know what you think I can do about it? Johnson don’t listen to nobody least of all me. O’Malley is right. If you move on Johnson he will come down on you big time. You know that right?”

Fat Louie sighed. “Yeah. but I don’t think it matters.” They drove on in silence. When they pulled up to the clubhouse Fat Louie got out without another word. DeStefano drove off to the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel to get on the highway on the side entrance that neighborhood people knew about.

Fat Louie walked into the clubhouse and walked into a shit storm. Geno was raging and screaming and acting like a dick. The other mooks were standing around with most of them backed up against the wall as Geno smashed glasses. There was no sign of the old man. This shit was not good.

“Geno, Geno what the fuck,” Fat Louie said as he walked toward the raging ginzo. Geno spat at him. “Fuck off Fatso shut the fuck up. I can do what I want. I am a fucking made man and you ain’t shit.” Geno took a rocks glass and flung it at Fat Louie’s head. He put up his meaty paw and batted it away like King Kong smacking a biplane. Fat Louie generally gave off a placid cow like vibe but that wasn’t his true nature. He was more like a bull. A big fat powerful bull. And his balls were twisted. Everything that happened from being arrested to being brought into the station contributed to him seeing red. And Geno was the fucking red cape waving in his face.

Fat Louie lumbered forward and punched Geno right in the face breaking a few of his teeth. Geno rocked back against the bar and bounced forward. He was a dick but he had balls and could take a punch. You don’t get made if you are a pussy. He swung with all his might and buried his fist in Fat Louie’s massive gut. He didn’t even feel it. All of that fat served as insulation or maybe a shock adsorber.  Fat Louie grabbed Geno by the neck and turned and banged his head against the bar. Once, twice, three times. Geno was out and Fat Louie dropped him on the floor. The mooks stared at him like they saw a ghost. He had put his hands on a made guy. Fucked him up.

Fat Louie bent down and picked up Geno like he was broken doll. “Hey Huey and Louie take this dick down to the basement and throw him on the cot. Lock him in. Got it.” “Sure Louie no problem.” They took Geno and supported him under both arms as he was as limp as a rag doll.

Fat Louie turned to the other three guys backed up against the wall. “What are you chootches doing for fucks sake. Clean up this mess before the old man gets in. Then get the fuck out of here and don’t come back tomorrow until I reach out.” They scurried around to clean up the broken glass and spilled liquor. Fat Louie went behind the bar and poured himself a Johnnie Walker neat. He drank it slowly. He laughed at himself.

Tomorrow will be an interesting day.