Louis Massarino’s organization was more legitimate than illegitimate. The days of operating on the backs of drugs, prostitution, extortion, illegal gambling, and the like had been destroyed by RICO laws and aggressive U.S. Attorneys like Rudy Giuliani. With the assistance of some of the finest tax attorneys in the country, Massarino had converted earnings from illegitimate activities to legitimate businesses like restaurants, travel agencies, construction companies, and mortgage brokerage firms. But Massarino still ran one of the largest loan sharking operations on the east coast. Bobby Tennucci headed up that business. Massarino met Tennucci at Cucina Rosa in Brooklyn at 1 p.m. They took a table at the back.
“It’s good to see you, Bobby. How’s the family?”
Tennucci moved his head from side-to-side, then said, “Other than having a sixteen-year-old daughter in the house, all is good.”
Massarino laughed. “I remember when my Dolores was sixteen. She and her mother were like two tigers in a small cage. They knew how to push one another’s buttons. Mama mia, che casino!”
Tennucci wagged his head. “That’s how I see it. A mess. It’s like perpetual war in my home.”
“Maybe a convent would take your daughter.”
Tennucci said, “I’ve actually thought about that, but, after a few days, the nuns would send her back.” It was his turn to laugh.
A waiter came over and placed an antipasto platter between them.
“I took the liberty of ordering for us. You’ll love the frutti di mare.”
“Bene,” Tennucci said.
While Tennucci selected a few items from the platter, Massarino leaned in and whispered, “You still working with the guy at that insurance company?”
“You mean the one in the real estate investment department in Yonkers?”
Massarino nodded.
“Yeah.” Tennucci smiled. “The guy’s a degenerate gambler. Spends more time in Atlantic City than he does with his family.” A sour look came over Tennucci’s face. “I may have to…take action soon. He barely can make the vig. He owes ninety-eight large.”
“There may be a way to make him even.”
“You mean pay off his loan?”
“Exactly. I want you to tell him to meet with a friend of mine. My friend will call him.”
“Your friend’s name?”
“It’s Bruno Pedace. But don’t tell the guy. Just tell him to wait for a call.”
After Massarino left the restaurant, he had his driver take him to a little store in the middle of a block in Brooklyn that had seen better days. The stores were all “mom and pop” affairs: a bakery, a deli, a grocery store, an insurance agency, and a computer repair shop.
“Drop me off in front of Jesse’s place,” Massarino told his driver, Silvio. “I’ll only be a couple minutes. Just circle the block.”
Massarino left the car and entered the computer repair shop. The young man behind the counter sat on a high stool, bent over a computer tower. “I’ll be right with you,” he said, without looking up.
“What’d I tell you about properly greeting your customers?” Massarino said.
The young man continued to stare into the back of the computer hard drive he worked on and said, “I told you before, Uncle Luigi, we computer types don’t understand customer relations.”
Massarino laughed. “Jesse, come out from behind there and give your uncle a hug.”
Jesse Falco slipped off the stool, came around the counter, and hugged Massarino.
“When are you coming for dinner? Your Aunt Rosa misses you.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle Luigi. I been workin’ seven days a week.” He smiled and added, “The best customer relations is based on quality, timely service.”
“I have a job for you, Jesse.”
CHAPTER 8
Janet had tried to pay attention to the discussions that occurred during the St. Anne’s staff meeting, but all she’d been able to focus on was her conversation with the woman who’d claimed to be a reporter. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that the woman’s call was only about trying to locate Bruno. She wondered if Bruno’s old partners had hired another assassin to come after him. But she thought, A female assassin? Unlikely.
Back in her office after the meeting, she removed the slip of paper with Bruno’s number from her purse and fingered it. It took her several minutes of reflection to finally decide to make the call. A message machine picked up and directed her to leave her name and number.
She left her office and climbed to the third floor to visit some of the women whose cases she was managing. Her first visit was with a mother of two small children whose husband had been locked up after his most recent assault on her. Janet was thrilled that Judy Smith had finally agreed to testify against the man. The fact that St. Anne’s had been able to find the woman a clerical job in a radiology practice and to commit to pay for her to attend a radiology technician’s training program had made all the difference in the woman’s decision to testify. Judy Smith was a victory among many defeats. All thanks to Bruno’s generosity, she thought.
Janet talked with Mrs. Smith about her job start date and then moved toward her next client’s room. But the chirp of her cell phone stopped her. She detoured to a stairwell and answered the call.
“Ms. Jenkins, you left a message.”
“I did. Who am I speaking with?”
“That’s not important. What do you need?”
“I was told that I could reach a friend through this number.”
“Yes, yes, Ms. Jenkins. Is there a problem?”
“I’m not certain. Maybe.”
“Okay, Ms. Jenkins, here’s how this will work. You’ll tell me why you called and I’ll pass it on to your friend. If he wants to call you back, you’ll hear from him.”
“But—”
“Why did you call?”
Janet explained about the call she’d received from the woman who’d claimed to be with The New York Times.
“Okay, thank you.”
Janet stared at her phone as it went to a dial tone.
After Bobby Tennucci told him about the call from Janet Jenkins, Louis Massarino considered for a moment that the Jenkins woman was possibly over-reacting. But Bruno had told him about Jenkins and how much he respected her. Massarino called Bruno and passed on her message.
“Thanks, Louis.”
“Are you making progress?”
“Yes, but it’s a complicated process. Have you thought about my request for help?”
“Of course. Take down these names and numbers.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. The first guy is with an insurance company. The second name I gave you is my nephew. In different ways, they’re very motivated to help.”
Bruno took a cab to a Walmart store, told the driver to wait, and went inside. He bought a couple of burner phones and returned to the apartment. He put off calling Janet until that evening. He didn’t want to talk with her at work. He then used one of the phones to call David Lander, the insurance company man whose name and number Massarino had given him.