Majoring in Murder

Chapter 13

Another obstacle with the arrangement between me and Carlo was that I had no way to contact him quickly if I had to, and the job with Lou Harben seemed like an occasion where speed was of the essence.

I drove to Vini, Vedi, Vici on Sunday, hoping to find Carlo in the private dining room he frequented. I went inside, crossed the dining area, walked up the stairs to the bar, and found the alcove empty. Of course, it would be empty when I needed to talk with him. I went back downstairs and left a note at the reservation desk for Carlo to call me.

My disposable cell phone rang a little before noon on Monday. It was Carlo. He apologized for getting back to me so late, stating that he didn't eat out on Sundays and had only gotten my message that morning.

"I need to talk with you about the job," I said, keeping our conversation discreet. "When can we meet to talk?"

"Can you come by the restaurant tonight?"

"What time?"

"How's eight?"

I told him I'd be there and hung up.

* * *

That night, I sat across from Carlo at the table and shook my head in frustration.

"What's with the head shaking?" he asked. "You can't do the job, or what?"

"No, it's not that," I said. "I'm having a hell of a time getting close to this guy."

Carlo glanced from me to Giovanni. "Didn't we give him both addresses?"

"I think so," Giovanni said from his position behind me.

"So what's the problem?" Carlo asked, turning back to me.

"Yeah, you gave me two addresses. I assumed you knew his house was in a gated community. You figured I couldn't get in there, so you gave me the other one." I stopped and considered my own logic for a moment. "Besides, if you thought I couldn't get to the guy's house, why give me that address in the first place?"

Carlo was quick with an answer. "'Cause a resourceful contractor would find a way to get past the gate and a job done in the man's home would be more discreet."

"Yeah. I guess," I said. "Well, I went to the country club. At first, I couldn't get in there either, so I found a place where I could park and hop the fence."

"There you go," Carlo said and tapped the side of his head with his index finger, "you're learning to be resourceful."

"Yeah, well, I found a place where I could sit and take the shot, but then I realized I'd probably sit there for days or weeks waiting for this guy to show up. Then I thought, 'Maybe he doesn't even play golf!' in which case I'd be wasting my time sitting in those woods waiting for him."

Carlo interrupted. "Oh, he plays golf all right. Every Friday, as a matter of fact. We happen to know he leaves work early, 'bout one o'clock, to play a round."

"Okay," I said. "That's something that would've been helpful for me to know. Can you put that kind of information in the next assignment? It's frustrating to know so little about a person and then try to figure out their routine when you're attending college and have to juggle studying with work."

"What the fuck's the matter with you? You want me to just give you a mark's fuckin' itinerary? How 'bout I just go kill 'em myself!"

Carlo was like Jekyll and Hyde. This was the side of him I always feared bubbling to the surface, the pissed off wise guy. My stomach grew queasy, as I anticipated Carlo giving me the kiss of death just before his goons dragged me out behind the restaurant to beat me or worse, turn me into a memory. Not only was I scared by how volatile Carlo's personality was, but his outburst made me feel small and insignificant. I wanted to cry.

There was no doubt that I wished Carlo would do the damn jobs himself, but at the same time, I knew that was never going to happen and his angry tirade suddenly began to anger me. He had called on me. It wasn't the other way around. He now had my emotions whipped into a frenzy. Despite my mixed feelings, I managed to keep the tone of my voice normal. "Look," I said, "that's not what I'm saying and I'm not trying to be difficult. I just want as much information as you have that can help me when I go out on a job. Which reminds me of something else: I need a better way to get in touch with you instead of driving over here and leaving a message for you to call me. You're able to reach me whenever you want, but it's nearly impossible for me to get in touch with you." My neck and cheeks grew heated as I spoke and realized how much my ass was on the line while I was chasing people down with a gun. "I should be able to get in touch with you quicker if it pertains to a job!"

Carlo leaned back in his chair as nonchalantly as ever and interlaced his fingers across his stomach. His anger seemed to have evaporated, leaving him placid. It was strange how he could transition so quickly between polar opposites.

"You got a point," he said. "I apologize. You should be able to get in touch with me easier than you can now."

"I can't get in touch with you now, that's—"

Carlo held his hand up to stop me. "I know. That's what I'm saying." He beckoned to Giovanni with his fingers, made a scribbling gesture, and nodded his head.

"Here," Giovanni said and extended a small business card. I took it, turned it over, and looked at the numbers scrawled on the back.

"Call that number when you need to reach me in the future," Carlo said. "It's not a direct line. I wouldn't give you that kind of information, and I think you know why." His eyebrows raised. I knew what he implied. If I was ever caught, he didn't want any ties linking the two of us.

"It's kind of like a beeper, only you don't have to put in any numbers. It's a voicemail, but it doesn't come directly to my cell phone. Just call it, leave a message saying it's you, and I'll call you back."

"How soon will you get my message?" I asked.

"Like I said, it's just like voicemail. I'll get it immediately. Also, like I told you earlier, Lou plays golf every Friday. You should be able to find him on the course anytime after one. He spends the rest of the time with his kids." Carlo smiled and added sarcastically, "The guy's a real family man." He looked at Giovanni and both of them shared a quick laugh. It must've been an inside joke.

I tucked the card into my wallet, and told Carlo that I hoped to have the job finished by next Friday. He told me that he knew there were unexpected obstacles in the field, wished me luck, and reminded me to call when the job was done. I left the restaurant and drove back to school where I had to play catch up with my studies. In addition to my current hardship, I didn't need my dad coming down hard on me for low grades, but in light of what I was involved with, that seemed paltry.