Meet the Morenos
"Alright, almost there. Everything in place?" I asked myself as the streetcar rolled along the street. To say that I was reluctant to meet Isabella's parents was an understatement. It's not that I feared them, per se, but that I'd have to measure up. Isabella had told me that her parents had considerable wealth for being Spanish immigrants themselves. Perhaps they had come to America with money? If not, what would such a couple have done to rise through the lower classes to join the likes of people such as Wick Sable? How could I, a lowly miner, stack up?
Checking over my clothes and personal affects one last time, I hopped off the moving trolley on the street corner and continued on foot down the block to the open-air restaurant overlooking the river near Benton Park. Ducking into the restaurant, I flagged down a waiter and was promptly shown to the back deck. There was Isabella seated at a table in the corner with her parents.
"Ah, this must be your man!" The gentleman said, standing up and gesturing for me to come over. Isabella's parents were both well dressed. Her father was sporting a suit which was clearly custom-made and Isabella's mother was dressed in a vibrant emerald dress that Ivy would drool over. "Glad you found this place, Ethan." The man said. Which I readily accepted.
"Hello, sir! It is great to finally meet you!" I said before turning to Isabella. "This is quite the place you picked out, love."
"Isn't it gorgeous out here? Anyway, this is my papa, Andres Santigo Moreno. And my mama, Julia Esperanza Martinez García-Iglesias."
"I am honored, truly." I replied, kissing Julia's hand as she stood up. She insisted on kissing each cheek, something Isabella said would be a good sign.
Andres was quick to respond as we all sat down. "The honor is ours, hijo. We were both so happy to know that our daughter had found someone. A respectable American farmer no less! Tell us, Ethan, what do you grow around here?"
So far so good, at least we were off to a great start. "Well, sir—"
"Please, Ethan, you can call me papa and Julia mama."
"Oh… well, if you insist. So, papa, we recently bought the farm and are in the middle of building it. We will be growing wheat for our first crop this spring once we can find enough equipment."
"Should you require help with finding equipment, Julia and I would both happily extend you a hand with whatever you would require."
"Papa, please! Ethan and I have only known each other for a few months." Isabella explained, catching onto my feeling that we were moving quickly for a first meeting. However, Julia scoffed at the idea. "Isabella, you have found love so why deny it?"
"I don't deny it, mama, but Americans do not marry so quickly."
"That's not what the neighbors said. We will just have to wait and see. So, Ethan my son, where did you live before coming to Saint Louis?"
"I… lived in Butte, Montana. High in the mountains."
"Montana? We have heard of the place but haven't been there before. Isabella said you were also in the war."
"Yes, I was. Drafted just after my birthday in 1918."
"Such a life!" Julia commented. "But now you are in St. Louis and ready to settle down, si?"
"I guess you could say that." I said, winking at Isabella. She said she has two brothers and a sister."
"Yes, she does! You must come to meet the rest of the family. Rafael is our oldest boy; he would like you very much. Maria is their sister, and finally there is young Luis."
"We should meet your family as well." Andres added. "Your mother, father, brothers and sisters."
I glanced over at Isabella who was just realizing she forgot an important detail prior to our meeting, but I tried to reply as best as I could. "Oh… I, uh, guess. There is Riley, she's ten and going to be eleven early next year. Rocky and Freckle are actually cousins, but I do consider them brothers."
"You only have one sister? No mother or father?" Andres pressed.
"Papa, that isn't a topic that Ethan likes to talk about."
"It's alright Bella, they should know." I said. I didn't want to lie any more than necessary. Not telling them about how I made most of my money was shameful enough. "My parents are deceased. So are my two brothers. The family I have in Saint Louis is the family I've found since arriving here."
Isabella's parents were taken aback by the revelation. "Oh, Ethan, I am so sorry to have brought this up. It is painful to lose one's family." Julia said, patting my hand. "But you have a family with us now, yes?"
"That is my hope, Mrs. Julia. Now that you know a bit about me, what do you do for a living, Mr. Andres?"
"You didn't tell him, daughter?" Andres said.
"You love telling people, papa. I didn't want to steal that chance from you."
"That's my girl." He replied, smiling. "Both myself and Julia come from a long line of tailors. For generations, my family made the finest dresses and suits in Spain! But when I was about your age, we wanted to come to America. So we came by ship to Philadelphia then settled here in Saint Louis. It was hard work learning to make suits in the American style, but our Spanish flair caught the eye of people here, and so both Julia and I began the Moreno Tailor company!"
"Wait, so you aren't just any Moreno, you're the Moreno?! The one who makes Moreno suits?" I said, shocked at who was sitting in front of me.
"Yes, we make the best suits in Saint Louis!" Andres continued. "And I've convinced my husband to expand into dresses." Julia added, gesturing to her fine garments. "You should see the customers we receive. Lawyers, businessmen, actors, politicians… even gangsters!" Julia said, emphasizing the last cohort with a whisper.
"Wow, and you're okay with your daughter dating a farmer like me?"
"Of course! Look how far you have come already, hijo. You were working in a mine, and now you work for yourself and live off of the land! Soon you will be successful in other things. Perhaps you could learn to make Spanish wine when this… "prohibition" is finally dead. Our belief is that such things are providencia. Meant to be, if God is willing. Just like you and our Isabella." Andres said.
"You should see her when she speaks to her hermanas!"
"Mama!" Isabella interrupted, clearly embarrassed.
An hour later we bid farewell to Isabella's parents. It was a relief not only because they seemed to like me, but I hadn't let on that my real job was protecting the rumrunning crew of a speakeasy. Even if they thought prohibition was a mistake, I doubt they would approve of their daughter dating a criminal, and a killer. I was also able to avoid having to bring up my time in the army. That would be better saved for another conversation down the line.
"So, what do you think of them?" Isabella asked.
"Your parents are great people, Bella. You know, I would have been less nervous if you had told me how welcoming they would be."
"I can never tell for sure with them. Some of my past dates have been… less welcoming. This time around I was sure to tell them a lot more about my boyfriend. I just didn't want you to get a false sense of security."
"You didn't lie to them, right? They understand I'm not some vineyard master or a western rancher."
"They've been here for the better part of three decades now, Ethan. My parents know I'm not going to be some famous seamstress, they just want a good man for their daughter. Although I may have exaggerated the extent of your friendship with Mr. Sable."
"And you mean what, exactly, by exaggerate?"
"Oh, not much. I just told them that you went shooting with Wick on weekends. My father and brothers like to go shooting as well, so I figured you could arrange a day to go target shooting."
"Bella, Wick hasn't done that in quite a while. Besides, the man is busy. He's going to work himself into an early grave!"
"Then you'll be doing him a favor by convincing that distinguished "baron of industry" to have some fun! It doesn't hurt to know some people, Ethan. That's how my parents got many customers over the years."
"Well, I guess it's at least a white lie. Wick would surely play along. But that was downright devious, Miss Isabella! That's something straight out of Ivy's playbook."
"Where do you think I got the idea from?" She said with a smile.
While I was grateful for how this had all turned out, that last part was what still bugged me. How could I be a good man if I was a killer? A servant of Ogun? And what did I ever do to deserve someone so great?
Two Secrets and a Mystery
"How do we know we're in the right place?" Matt asked Henry as they sat outside a coffee shop, scoping out the neighborhood.
"The photo was taken only a block away from here. Our target is somewhere in this area, all we must do is keep our eyes peeled."
The hours seemed to drag on for eternity as an endless line of people passed the posse. Picking out the cat in question would be difficult, but still possible due to the photograph Henry had cut out of the newspaper and the general description the deli owner had given them. It was hard to believe that a small, unassuming orange feline would have stood his ground against a made man of the mafia. Tracking Elio down and killing him along with two associates was bordering on improbable. Elias had the same thought apparently as he broke the silence with a question of his own.
"So how do we know this kid is the one? He seems kinda scrawny to me."
Henry rolled his eyes. "Perhaps he wasn't the one who did the deed. But if it wasn't him then it was one of his friends in that picture. All three of them are part of the same club or gang. So all we have to do is eliminate all three, and our problems will be solved."
"All three? Wouldn't that draw attention?"
"Not if we do it right. We aren't going to follow standard procedures here. First, we're going to figure out where they go when not at work. If we can catch them with their pants down someplace more discrete, then that will be when we pounce.
Just then a farm truck rolled past, slowing down to make a turn. Inside was an orange cat and in the back was a suspicious amount of supplies. Matt nudged Henry's shoulder. "That looks like our guy!"
Henry looked carefully and concurred. "Yeah, that's him. You boys see where he goes while I pay the hostess. But do not engage, we need to maintain the element of surprise if we're going to get all three. We also need a plan."
Turning the corner, the two henchmen saw the back end of the truck sticking out of an alleyway. Creeping around the corner of what looked like a standard office building, Elias stuck his head inside the alley and saw their target go down a set of stairs hidden in a small garage. Sneaking behind their target, Elias looked down the dark stairwell carved into the rock and saw a oaken door closing behind the orange cat. Carved into the door and lined with gold paint was a large club symbol.
Elias crept out of the shed and met up with Matt who was keeping watch. "Is that the place?" Matt asked.
Elias smiled. "We found the fabled Lackadaisy, friend. This kid has got to be the one."
"Good, now we just need to wait for the others." Henry said as he walked up to them. "As I said, we'll hang back and figure out where the best spot is to ambush these boys during their daily errands."
Across town, John pulled out his lock picking kit from his pocket and got to work on the old door keeping him on the back porch of the townhouse. He had to be quick in case anyone would catch him. One by one the pick lifted each gate, and soon the tumbler was in motion. With the knob free to turn, he gently twisted the handle and crept inside. No one was around, just as he had hoped. First searching the kitchen, John didn't find anything of note. Taking care not to disturb anything unnecessarily, he moved on to the living room. The place was quite spartan, but a couple of finely crafted rifles rested against the side of the sofa as well as a complete cleaning kit on the table. Every one of these guns could shoot, there was even a fixed six power scope attached to one. It was long, sleek, and black as the night. Every piece of these rifles was crafted in Germany.
A different gun caught John's attention, a Thompson. This one was worn, but still cared for. None of these guns were ever mishandled or tossed about by some thug, only an experienced gun owner would take such good care of his tools. Passing up the stairs, one photograph caught his eye. There was a younger Henry looking out at John through a photograph taken in 1917. The chevrons on the side indicated that he was already a corporal when the picture was taken. Another patch indicated something else. Henry was the designated marksman. Squinting to read the label, John finally hit pay dirt. The name tag read "L. Kennedy."
"So he is hiding something!" John said to himself. Now he knew where to look. Upstairs, deep in the drawers of a desk, he finally got the answer he was looking for. The complete history of his partner. It didn't make sense though, everything knew Luke Kennedy died at the hands of two Egan's Rats. And yet the injury Luke sustained in 1921 matched the slight limp Henry carried when he had to hustle. The age was about right as well. A young gunner in the early days, Luke Kennedy would be a grizzled gangster in the waning years of the decade. The face matched as well, sans some scars. John had to take a minute to contemplate what this meant. Not only was Luke Kennedy, Hogan's prodigy, still alive, but he was now back in the St. Louis scene!
In the police back office, Ulysses split his time pouring over files and adding to his detective board. The St. Louis crime scene was in a state of change, and keeping up with the various connections was no easy task. Overlayed on a map of the city, Ulysses placed pictures and evidence of various crimes in the locations where they were found. Victims and suspects dotted the map, all connected by colored string. He had assigned a color to each gang faction in the city. There were the Green Ones and the Russos, Santino's gang, Marigolds, some remnants of Egan's Rats down in the Irish section of the city. But there were outside influences as well.
Capone and Aiello seemed to be waging a proxy war against each other in the strategically important city. Then there were affiliates in Kansas City, Detroit, New Orleans, and Toledo. St. Louis was indeed living up to its crossroads legend and lately the streets were turning into a battlefield. Today Ulysses had two more things to add to his board which would connect a lot of dots, or at least that's what he hoped. First, the Lackadaisy was back on the map. It was almost poetic that the vanquished empire was right in the middle of the board. Did Atlas May ever realize the dangers of being in no-man's land? It was hard for the agent to say for sure, but at a minimum Atlas had underestimated the competition.
The second thing he could finally add to the list was a mystery killer. He had heard rumors and anecdotal evidence, but now things were clear. Over twenty Marigold agents and associates were found dead in a quarry back in June. Among them was a longtime criminal and former private investigator, Adam Moreau. Over the summer, several people associated with Asa Sweet also turned up dead. Perhaps these people knew something that required their silence? This, of course, occurred at the same time that Lackadaisy made it back on the map. At the same time, Drago turned up dead on a train bound for Chicago.
Ulysses and Dominic had only met briefly. Drago had already been working for the feds for a couple of years when Ulysses signed on. A bully for justice, Ulysses took to the job like a fish to water and quickly rose through the ranks. St. Louis was now the big prize. Clean out the city and there would be a permanent place for him in the Treasury! Perhaps he could even take down the likes of Capone or the big five in New York? He remembered Dom being less outwardly ambitious. Taking a job this difficult and then slowly making incremental progress without ever cracking anything significant struck Ulysses as odd. And some things weren't adding up. Why did he abandon his post for Chicago without telling anyone in Washington? Why was Mordecai Heller in Chicago at the same time? Something happened between Lackadaisy, Marigold, and Drago. Ulysses knew that at least.
Getting Ransom Rickaby into the speakeasy was surely going to give Ulysses a breakthrough on that mystery and give him valuable information about how to take down the other gangs. When he told Ransom that Lackadaisy wasn't his target, the agent wasn't lying completely. It was a small fish in a big ocean. Yet judging by the board, this little fish was proving to be more important than he anticipated.
"Coffee, agent Maher?" Jim said as he opened the door, taking care not to spill the two cups in his hands. Maher leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, nodding 'yes' to his police partner. Jim was an honest man and fresh enough to the force that he could be trusted not to leak anything to the mafia. Jim looked across the board and noted some of the changes. "I see you've been making progress."
"Yes… so far. But some questions remain. Specifically, questions about the last agent here, Drago. His death, and his actions before his death are a mystery to me. And then there are his files and progress reports. It just doesn't make any sense that he could be so close to cracking some of these investigations and yet not have a breakthrough. Marigold specifically was a prime target of his, and yet no arrests, no warrants, no interrogations, nothing!"
"I can't say I knew the agent well, we only bumped into each other once or twice. But some of the boys said that he kept to himself a lot. Some of his behaviors were hard to understand, too. One of the jailors said he took a liking to some drunk a pair of beat-cops brought in from off the street one night. They were planning to keep the guy's money for "evidence", but Drago insisted it be returned."
Ulysses took a deep gulp from the hot cup before sitting up and sorting through another file. "Did anyone get a profile on this guy? Maybe he knows something we don't."
"One step ahead of you, sir. I took the liberty of digging this out. One Dorian Zibowski. Nothing too big on him, the guy has a court date in a few months."
"Hmm, I recognize the photograph…" Ulysses then pulled out an old copy he had obtained through his network. It was a copy of a Lackadaisy Christmas party from two years ago. There he was, leaning against the bar with two cigarettes hanging from his mouth. The agent's photographic memory coming back to help him. "That guy is in the band at Lackadaisy. If he's still down there, we'll have to get some answers. We just can't blow our friend's cover in doing so."
Friday, October 14th
Though the place was busy as usual, I was enjoying some much-needed alone time at the bar of the speakeasy. Mitzi and Wick were chatting it up as usual. I could tell that Wick was planning something, he had a look of unusual confidence in his eyes. Maybe was getting ready to try again at winning over Miss M?
Ivy walked in with a huff and sat down on the bar stool next to mine without so much as a word before putting her head down on the bar top. My enjoyment of peace had to be shelved yet again as I leaned over and placed a concerned hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay, Ivy?"
"I don't know what to do, Ethan!" She said, not even turning her head to look at me. "The school just told me they've sent a truancy letter to Dad. He's not going to be happy when he finds out I've been missing so much college."
"What? Ivy, why would you miss so many classes? Haven't you been keeping up with homework?"
"Sort of, it's just so… boring! This is year two of nothing but general education classes. That's not all though, my dorm manager has been looking at the sign out sheets and noticed I've been gone almost as many nights as I've been there. They'll never let me out again once I go back there. What am I going to tell Freckle?"
"I'm sure the kid will understand that you need to be in class. As for the dorm ledger, that's a tricky one. But you've only been up at the farm or over at Wick's estate, right? We could account for most of that time."
"That's not the problem. I haven't told dad about me and Calvin!" Ivy said, sitting up and wiping away a tear.
"Oh… is he a jealous type?"
"Well, not exactly. He has high standards, though."
"And you're going to tell me, with a sad face, that Freckle isn't good enough? You and I both know that kid will go places once he figures out what he wants to do."
"And what about when Dad finds out Freckle is Rocky's cousin?"
"That… okay, yes, I can see that as being a problem. Did those two get along?"
"I believe Dad's exact words were 'don't ever get close to that bird in the blue glad rags.' Can't say I blame my dad for that opinion."
"I see. Well, Ivy, that is quite a pickle you've found yourself in. But you know, if that's an issue nobody said Ruby has to find out about Freckle. He and I are going to be busy this upcoming week anyway getting the mash going for some good corn liquor. As for the truancy letter and the dorm, I'm sorry that I wasn't thinking about that."
"Why? It's not your fault. I know I've been digging my own grave with this one."
"Hey, I feel some responsibility here. You, Freckle, and Rocky. You're family. So when do you expect your dad to come here?"
"Probably late next week. I'm going to be confined to campus as soon as I get back there."
"Well, how about one more night of freedom? You can tell Freckle about the situation and I can take you back there tomorrow afternoon."
"I don't know…"
"What are they going to do? Send another letter? Even if they wanted to kick you out of school for low grades, they would at least have to wait until the end of the semester, right? You go back there, study hard next few weeks, I'm sure this whole thing will clear up by Christmas. And Calvin will just have to go on 'dates' with you on campus."
"You don't think it'll be so bad?" Ivy asked, perking up for the first time.
"One thing I've been learning from Rocky is to look on the brighter side of life. If a guy who's gone through that much can still pull himself together and love others, then so can the rest of us."
Just as I said that, some instinct inside me came alive. A left over from the war. A threat was in the area, I could feel it. Scanning the room, I spotted it. "How did he get in?" I growled.
Ivy saw him as well. "Didn't Rocky tell his dad to get lost?"
"He did. Stay near Miss M."
"Just go get the bouncers at the door."
"No, throwing this guy out myself will be a pleasure."
I stood up and made a direct line for the cat who was rapidly approaching the stage. Whatever this guy wanted, he was about to get a lot more than he bargained for. "Ransom! I thought Rocky made himself clear."
He turned around and spotted me before melting into the crowd of people dancing. I skirted around the crowd and finally cornered him at the front of the stage. Ransom put his hands up in surrender. "I'm here by invite, Ethan. Really, I am."
"You know, Ransom, if there's one thing my drunkard of a dad taught me, it's how to fight. Let's see how you fare against a soldier!" I said, closing the gap. But in one leap, a grey cat in a blue suit soot in my way, fiddle in one hand and bow in the other. "Ethan, no!" Rocky pleaded.
The band stopped playing and in an instant all eyes were on us. "It's okay Rocky, I can handle this. Get back to doing what you do best."
"No, Ethan. I told him to come here?"
"What, to murder the scum bag?" I asked, confused. "I was just going to beat him up a bit, but that works for me too."
"Ethan!" Rocky insisted, not backing down. "I want him here to be our new floor manager."
"Huh?" I said. Now Mitzi was looking our way.
"It's true!" Ransom said, hiding behind his son like a coward. "I know every card game there is and Rocky said you have a need for someone who can keep the games fair and honest."
"That's rich coming from you." I hissed.
"Um, Ethan. Maybe this is best discussed somewhere other than the dance floor. We should let our fine patrons get back to their evening's activities."
"Agreed." I said, finally backing down. "Fine, humor me Ransom."
Giving Zib the signal to keep playing, we moved this new problem over to the bar. Mitzi stood up with a drink in hand and leaned in close enough for us to hear. "Hon, why is this man back here?" She asked Rocky.
"Well, you see Miss M, it turns out that Rans- I mean, my dad, knows his way around a deck of cards. I couldn't help but notice that this establishment has a need for someone with such skills."
"I see. And you've patched things up with your father?"
"It's, uh, well. We're getting there, I suppose." Rocky said.
I just shook my head in disbelief. "Rocky, this is the man that abandoned you! Heck, you don't even know him!"
"True, but the fault of that is mine and now I wish to make amends." Ransom said. "Make up for some lost time. Wouldn't you like the same, Ethan?"
"My father was a drunkard. He had a moment of clarity right before the Spanish Flu took him, but that hardly erases all he put my family through."
Ransom found his opening. "So perhaps you and your father's relationship was beyond repair. I hope that my relationship with my son still has a chance."
"A chance? You blew that chance when you walked out on them! Your relationship isn't broken, it doesn't exist!" I growled.
Mitzi stepped in between us. "Now Ethan, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Mr. Rickaby—"
"Please, just call me Ransom Miss M."
"Ransom, then. If you truly want to see your son and Rocky is okay with this, I don't think it would be ethical for the rest of us to stand in the way. But wanting to join our club is a different matter."
"Would you allow me to prove myself, ma'am?"
"By all means, the card table is that way."
I couldn't believe it, some guy off the street just outmaneuvered me. I huffed before returning to my seat at the bar. Rocky followed and tried explaining himself. "Come on, Ethan. He just needs a chance."
"It's a chance to hurt you, Rocky. He's hurt you before, remember? Think of all those times he could have been there, all the times he could have been a father. Instead he chose… gambling and theft!" I seethed. It wasn't so much anger as it was fear.
"I know." Rocky said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "And I would never do that to Joseph. But Ransom is my father. Shouldn't I take the chance?" He said, pleading with me to see things his way.
"I don't trust him, Rocky. Call it a brother's instinct." I threw down a shot of strong whiskey, gritting my teeth as it moved down my throat. "I'm telling you right now, Rocky. You can't trust a deadbeat dad."
"Is that a fact, or just your experience?" Rocky retorted. "Is that something you would say to Alena?"
"That is completely different! Viktor was a good man, you know that. And yet—"
"—and yet he didn't visit his daughter for years." Rocky interrupted. "Except once only a few weeks before he died right here in this bar, in your arms no less. Sure, my dad is a thief. But I gotta give him a chance. I need this, Ethan. I need you to have my back here."
"Rocky, I can't possibly condone this. We don't know him! What if this is some sort of scheme to rob you, or—"
"I thought you'd have my back…" Rocky said. "At least, I hoped you would!"
"Rocky, I—"
"But if that's how it is, fine." Rocky said, shaking his own head. "I'll just get tonight's run on my own. See you tomorrow, Ethan. Good night, Miss Pepper."
"Rocky, wait…" I didn't get the chance to finish my thoughts as Rocky walked out of earshot.
"You know, Ethan. Maybe it is worth giving Rocky a chance…"
"You know what, Ivy? You're right. Rocky needs a chance to screw up and learn something."
"That's not—"
"I know it's not Miss Pepper. You're a better cat than me. Well, no point in staying around here if Rocky is going to handle the night's load on his own. Shall we go to the farm?"
"Yeah and have a hard conversation." Ivy said, standing up as I helped her get her coat on.
"Welcome to being an adult, Ivy. Just one endless line of hard conversations."
"Ethan isn't approving." Rocky said as he walked up to Mitzi and Ransom. "It's alright, son. It sounds like Ethan has a troubled past with his own father. We can do better."
Mitzi paused briefly before looking between the two Rickaby's. "Well, dear, Ethan is his own man. Sounds like you'll have to prove your worth, Ransom."
"I'll be happy to, ma'am. I'm sure Ethan will come around with time."
"So he's hired?!" Rocky asked, hoping that Miss M at least would be more supportive.
"Well, we could use a floor manager. Can you train the dealers? They're a little… green."
"I'll have them all raking in cash by the end of the week."
"Just make sure it stays fair for the customers, Ransom. We can't afford to lose the business we have. As busy as it is, the Lackadaisy is a long way from its former glory."
"With the Rickaby boys on the job, ma'am, there's nothing that can't be done. Right son?"
"Yeah... uh, right!" Rocky said. "And speaking of job, we've got a coffin load of liquid gold that needs excavating."
"You and Ethan be careful, hon." Mitzi said while waving him away.
"Oh, it will just be me tonight, Miss M. I don't feel much like discussing this with Ethan anymore tonight."
"Won't that be a lot of work for one rumrunner?" Mitzi asked.
"I'll come with." Ransom said. "It'll be a great father-son adventure!"
As the sedan pulled out from the garage and motored down the street, two headlights on the curb lit up. Inside the cab was John and Henry.
"So that's the guy?" John asked.
"That's one of them. If this car and the farm truck with that orange cat go to the same place, I've got an idea of how we can take care of at least two of them in one go." Henry explained.
John couldn't exactly see Henry in the same light now that he knew who he was talking to. But this was a veteran gangster in his car, and a crack shot with both a machine gun and a rifle. "If you say so. Shall we follow?"
"Sally forth, John. Elio will be avenged soon."