Carlotti's Way
Mookminder
by Edeyn Hannah Blackeney
Copyright 19 December 2007

This was not what my father wanted for me. I thought that fairly often, these days. I shook my head to make the thoughts go away, and opened up my ledger. With Engineblock disappearing, I only had to manage eleven, ah, free-range bodyguards for Heavy Sal Hadrian. Well, until Salvatore found him another fella to round out his 'Double Half-Dozen' again. In this business, you needed guys like Engineblock and Niner, but at least Heavy Sal used the threat more than he acted on it. Heh. Kind of like the 'good' gang of mobsters in that Keaton movie back in the '80s... what was it called again?

"You okay, 'Minder?" asked Kneebiter.

"Hmm?" I responded, "Oh, sorry, I was trying to remember the name of a movie from about twenty-five years ago. You get my age and the mind sometimes wanders randomly."

I grinned at him and realized that I have never known the man's actual name.

"Hey, Kneebiter."

"Yeah, 'Minder?"

"What's your name? I mean the one on your license. I don't think I've ever known it," I explained with a sideways grin.

He laughed. Good laugh. "S'Bobby. Roberto Ignacias Vitolio Augustine Langella."

Wow, what a mouthful... hey, wait, "So why'd you get hung with 'Kneebiter' instead of just using your initials? Seems like it would sound like a name of distinction, dignified even, for a... bodyguard."

"Well, mister free-range bodyguard manager, if you've not noticed, I'm not exactly what one would call 'lanky' when called upon to be doing a bit of descriptiveness about me, now am I?" he stated with an air of mock-haughtiness. "'Rival' woulda been nice -- sheesh, I bet my old man was hoping for that, really -- but when any of the other gents in a profession like this are, shall we call it a bit taller? You get hung with the silly names. Being so short is what determined my career path in grade school, you might even say. Short kids learn to fight dirty, my dear Mookminder."

We both laughed and continued with the boxes.

"Johnny Dangerously," I said suddenly, with total satisfaction.

"What?" asked a very confused Kneebiter.

"The movie I was trying to think of. I thought of it," I explained.

He shook his head and chuckled, and I would almost swear I heard something mumbled like, "Crazy old man..." but I'm not certain.

"You know," I started again when we were stacking the smaller ones up, "Before Salvatore got into the game, I was working for old man Bony Becelli. Doing a bit of free-range bodyguarding, myself. Only we called it 'being a Tough' back then. Didn't have much cause to hide what we was."

* * * * * * *
"Pleasure doing business with a man of your understanding and sense, Mister Callahan," I smiled at the scowling shopkeeper.

"Okay, Hands," came the brogue hefting his broomstick almost as though he really meant to use it, "you have your money to give to that bastard Becelli, now get out of my store!"

I raised my hat and settled it back on my head with a grin, "See you next month, George."

For just a moment, I thought George might actually have the panache to thump me with his stick. Then he just set his shoulders and pointed, so I strolled out, nabbing an apple on my way. My day was done, it was just after lunchtime, I was twenty-three, and it was a beautiful Spring day in Boston. Perfect day to take Paulina out on the boat, if the Boss would let me use it.

I started up the car -- an old clunker of a '57 Chevy -- and drove back across town, taking the long way to see the water. Life in 1974 was great, and I was in with a bunch of great fellas living the good life. The life of a Tough for Boss Bony Becelli was pretty easy, even if you had to rough some of the... what did Numbers call 'em? Oh, yeah... even if you had to rough some of the clientele around now and then.

I came around the corner leading up to the Pub where Boss did most of his business, and Big Antony staggered out before limping around the corner to an alley. I parked and sat tight to see what was going on.

I stepped outta the car to buy a paper from a kid, then went back and sat there, reading when nothing was happening. Over the next half hour, I saw way too many uniforms and a few of the trenchcoat brigade going inside what was thought to be a pretty safe place for gangsters. Three paddywagons full of my... colleague-types left. Most of them were carried out all unconscious-like. Then I got spotted. That private dick that had been helping out the cops looked right at me. I shoved my paper to the side and reached for the keys, but then the guy reaches up and scratches his nose to hide shaking his head at me. Was that a signal? He lowered his hand and grinned at me and looked away. I sat there wondering, and nothing happened to me. Soon enough, all the cops were gone, and they'd taken Boss Becelli along with 'em. I still sat there, not really knowing what to do, my idea for a boating excursion with Paulina forgotten.

The tap on my window scared me like so I nearly wet myself. I looked up and there was the guy. I rolled my window down.

"Let's take a drive," says he.

I just kinda nodded and reached across to unlock the other door. He walks around like we was best buddies and opens it, kinda tosses my paper into the back seat and gets inside. He shuts the door and looks at me.

I look back.

"You hafta start the car, Hands," he reminds me, "Or, you want I should call you Vincento? I think that would be all friendly-like, seeing as how I'm gonna be your new employer. I like to make my employees feel that they can trust me."

I startled and started the car. We drove around, he paid to fill up my gas tank (Sheesh, fifty cents for a gallon! It was getting so a fella had to be involved with folks like Boss Becelli just to afford to drive around!), and we talked. We talked about how he had been setting up Bony Becelli for a fall so he could slide in and take over. We talked about how he had organized plans for the area. We talked about how he was gonna need a fella with a good head to oversee a bigger group of Toughs -- though he called 'em "Free-Range Bodyguards" instead. I kinda liked the sound of that, it made it sound respectable-like.

"How many Tou -- er, how many of these Bodyguards are we talking about here, mister Hadrian?" I asked, because if his plans went over, I knew a couple of guys that would want in on this operation on the ground floor.

"Oh," says he, sounding almost lazy as he watches some kids playing stickball while we drive through Southie, "twelve should do it. Heh. A double half-dozen... plus the guy what will be managing the mooks, and reporting back to me. Whaddaya say, kid, wanna be my Mookminder?"

* * * * * * *
Kneebiter and I finished sweeping out the place.

I stretched and groaned.

"Whaddya think, kid, am I gettin' too old for this nonsense?" I asked, joking around.

He didn't answer right away, the little punk.

"Um. I dunno, I guess not. I mean, I know you can still take me, if you wanted to," he said, all nervous-like.

"Ah, whaddya sayin'... you think I should be thinking about retirement and golf, kid?"

"What's wrong with golf? I used to play every so often with Engineblock... gonna miss that, I think," he trailed off in a mumble.

"Nah, nothing wrong with golf. That Leopard Forest fella is fun to watch. Maybe I should think about maybe taking it easy. Maybe I'll talk to Salvatore. Maybe I'll even talk to Paulina," I mused. That's all it was, were musings at that point.

"G'head, take off. I gotta talk to the Boss, and then I'm takin' Paulina out for our 30th Anniversary dinner, then we're gonna go home and watch 'our' movie together. No grandkids over tonight."

Kneebiter nodded and grinned, then strolled out whistling.

* * * * * * *
"This place is amazing. This ravioli tastes as good as my grandma's, and I don't have to listen to no lecture about being an old maid to get it.

The flowers, the little guy with the violin... if I didn't know better, I'd say you were fixin' to make an honest woman outta me, Vincento Fanteoni!"

I smiled at her. Paulina was as beautiful now as she was three years ago when I started working for Salvatore. He was a great Boss. Better than old Bony Becelli ever thought about being.

"And what, my dear lady, makes you think that you know better?" I asked, hoping my eyes were sparkling at her as I stood up and stepped around the tiny table.

The violinist switched to a soft tune as I pulled the ring outta my pocket. You coulda heard a pin drop in the place, as every single eye was on me as I knelt in front of her.

"Paulina Grimaldi, would you do me the honor of allowing me to be your husband?"

* * * * * * *
Of course, she said yes, I slipped the rock on her finger, and we kissed. We finished dinner and then we went over to the picture show to watch the premiere of a new movie. The one that we watched every year now on our Anniversary, because we watched it the night I proposed. And we were married only two months later.

I wandered into the offices where Heavy Sal Hadrian still ostensibly was a Private Investigator. He kept his paperwork up and could technically be called in on police consulting jobs, as he had a squeaky clean record and was still on their rolls since the early 1970's. The thought that he could be called on to help solve crime made him laugh, I think.

"Boss, me and the Kneebiter're all done downstairs. Those boxes seem heavier than they were last August," I said, settling into one of the leather chairs, and noticing Sal notice me wincing. Maybe I should bring it up.

"You okay, Vincento?" he asks me, all concerned. We been buddies a long time now.

"Yeah, Salvatore, the kid just got me thinking. I maybe be getting too old for my end of this business," I answered. There, I said it.

Sal was already over at his minibar, pouring me a scotch. He handed it to me with a small smile.

"Truthfully, old friend, I was waiting for you to want it to happen. Your end is a bit more wearing than mine. Though, I couldn't have done all this without you," he grinned, handing me the tumbler.

"You saying you wouldn't mind if I were to kick back?" I asked, taking a sip of the 21-year old Glenlivet. I sucked some air through my teeth, "That's some good scotch, Sal."

"It better be for what I paid for it, eh Vinnie?" he laughed. "No, I wouldn't mind. Like I said, I expected it eventually."

He stood up and opened his door.

"Nicola, go to the safe, get Vincento Fanteoni's folder, bring it to me," he told the girl at the desk. Then he turned around and smiled.

"What file? You still keepin' tabs on me like the old days, Sal?"

* * * * * * *
"I knew I made the right choice," said Sal, grinning at me over the side of barbecue ribs in front of him.

I wiped my face and took a swig of the beer -- good brand, have to remember that -- then asked, "Whaddya mean, Mister Hadrian?" I was always careful not to be too familiar with my employer in public unless he brought it down casual first. I mean, I'm responsible for the man's well-being, I need to be professional.

He swallowed the last of his bottle of beer and motioned the waitress to bring him another before replying, "Six months ago, when I recruited you. Well. When I poached you out from under that has-been Becelli. I knew I could trust you to stick with me more than you had with him."

"Well, yeah, Boss. I mean, with old Bony it was just a job, but you treat me like I'm somebody. I gotta respect that," I answered, then the thought filtered to the top of my brain. I asked, "Not to sound like I'm not loyal, but how do you know I been sticking with you, Boss?"

He laughed, "Remember, Vincento, what I do for a living!"

He laughed again and that's when I caught on he didn't mean the extralegal activities what I watched out for him while he was occupied with. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, so I asked him.

"How exactly am I s'posed to feel about you keeping tabs on me, Boss?"

"Flattered," he answered, chuckling again, "I stopped watching you this afternoon and your file is going in my safe. You've proven yourself much faster than I expected. I've been checking out every guy you send me, and every guy I find on my own. I don't expect to have less than a year watch time on any of 'em. But you," he paused to swig his new bottle of beer, "you have real character."

* * * * * * *
We sipped our scotches and then there was a knock. The girl brought in a manilla folder with a black folder and a green folder both inside it and handed them to Sal, which he then handed to me. The green folder was about half as thick as one of those romance novels Paulina reads so much.

"Notice what the green one has in it. I expect you to stay on and train a replacement for yourself, and one for Eddie, but there's a sheet in that folder for every financial quarter you've worked for me. My version of a retirement plan," he pointed out.

Now I was curious. I opened up the green folder and there was a stack of papers all the same. Then I noticed what the papers were. I looked up at my employer.

"Sal. This is... this is generous to the extreme."

"Hey, you're my number one employee, don't think I can replace you. Ten thousand Great Britain Pound bearer bonds, one hundred thirty-three of them. Currently worth exactly two million, six hundred sixty-nine thousand, two hundred eighty-five dollars and sixty-nine cents as of the trade rate last night."

I was dumbfounded.

I looked over at his clock.

"Hey. Sal. I cannot express my gratitude enough," I said, standing and giving him a hearty hug, "but I have got to go. It's mine and Paulina's Anniversary tonight, and if I'm late, she'll make any of us mooks look like kittens."

"Go! And wish Paulina a Happy Anniversary for me, okay Pal?"

I left with my mind whirling, got in my old restored '57 Chevy, and sat there a moment. Then I thought about it and opened the black folder.

Everything was in there. Every piece of gumshoe work Sal had done on me, and every job I pulled for him, and even every legitimate job I did as his bodyguard when he took the rare P.I. jobs for real. Pictures, letters, a couple of mini-tapes, and... a letter?

* * * * * * *
You don't seriously think that Heavy Sal Hadrian will let someone as important to his organization as you just... go... do you? You will never be out as long as you're still around. I can help you disappear, and in a way that Sal will neither suspect, nor be able to find you. You and your wife can live like royalty off your retirement fund, I can even arrange to have your kids and grandkids disappeared with you. As long as you're within reach, you're within reach. All I ask in return is a few details cleared up in my notebooks. Think of it like this: Heavy Sal got his start by undermining Boss Becelli, and now someone's trying to undermine him. If you're interested, I'll know.

Robin Carlotti

P.S. - You and Paulina have a Happy Anniversary

* * * * * * *
I pulled up in front of the house, and sat for a few while I thought about the letter. I took the folders inside and put them in my safe, then went to get my good jacket and tie for tonight. We went to the same place for ravioli. We were still completely in love, and we fed each other... much to the amusement of the other patronage-type folks. Then we went home and I pulled out our movie while she made corn and dimmed the lights. We snuggled under the blankets and I hit 'Play' on the remote. We both held our breath as the first words lit up the screen...