Crawford: The Gotti Case

Chapter III: The Finger

January 13, 1986

Waking up in an alley is never the perfect place to wake up, although the city is plagued with vandalism, the lonely citizens of New York rest quietly to live the rest of their lives without hesitations and worries. Why would I judge them for taking the money out of the mafia's hands? It's not like they have a choice, either grab it and live one more day or say ¨no¨ and end up in a barrel or a fridge somewhere around the city. Not even a well proper goodbye, just the sentiment and realization that life as it was before, will never be what they wanted. It's past midnight, I realize this by looking at the hour in a restaurant's clock when I'm walking by it. What a day to be your first, I start wondering. What's going through Jones' mind as I walk down the street? If there is one mind to think with at all. I see a cab, I grab it, I need to get to the nearest hospital as soon as I can with the hope that the siren I hear is nothing more than the one of the black man with an amputated finger. ¨Hey buddy, where you going?¨ says the taxi driver as I've been staring at the floor since I entered the cab. ¨Sorry, take me to the nearest hospital, please.¨ I reply. He takes a look behind his seat to look at my state and well-being. ¨Looks like you need one fella, ain't no blonde motherfucker who can take such a beating and still be walking like you are.¨ I look into the mirror glass and smile, ¨It's not for me, just drive.¨ I say, and so he does. We arrive at the hospital, I pay my bit and start walking to the main entrance. ¨Hey bud, here's my number! In case you need a driver sometime.¨ he shouts. ¨I can drive myself, but thank you!¨ I reply. ¨Don't be stubborn fella, just take it. I know you need it more than I do.¨ he says, I nod and take it. I've never been a trusted person but he seemed like he had good intentions. I encounter the reception of the hospital, and as I look up, a blonde lady is looking at me, confused. I start wondering why she's looking at me that way, maybe she's just into me. But then it hit me, I was a mess and I started to feel a bit numb, I could tell she was saying something but I began to faint. As I look at her I can't tell if she's just beautiful or maybe I'm just about to... yeah, fuck it, going down in 3...2...1. I wake up in a bed at the hospital and everyone is staring at me abnormally. Like I had done something wrong. I look at the hour and it is past mid-day. I start to get up and start getting a headache but it's just a headache. I start to get up and suddenly I hear behind me, what sounds like a Southern middle-aged man. ¨Motherfucker, you white boys have no ass do ya?¨ he says, I smile and turn around as I face the only person I'm looking for, there he is, Jones is right there. ¨You asshole, I've been looking for you everywhere.¨ I reply, as I'm looking at his hands, but they seem to be okay. ¨What, what are you looking at rookie?¨ he says. ¨I have to show you something¨ I confusingly reply to him. We take a look at the bag sitting by my bed and we walk to it with our bare asses in the middle of the room, I open it and it smells like shit, like putrefaction and grass were mixed, it was just an abomination. As soon as he looks, he says: ¨Jesus, Mary, and my Lord is that a nasty-looking ass finger?¨ he says as I look at his hand. ¨Bitch, don't even try to, you telling me that you thought... Ha! Come on, I don't even have those potato-shaped fingers anyway.¨ he says while waiting for some kind of confirmation from me after saying those words.  I look at his hands again, then look at him. We burst into laughter together. ¨Hey, it's great to know you're well Crawford.¨ he says with a smile on his face. ¨I'm glad you're alive too buddy, believe me, I was worried about you.¨ I say to him while putting a hand on his shoulder. We put on our clothes and head to the station, as we're leaving a lady comes to me, it's the nurse from the reception. ¨I'm glad you're better detective.¨ she says. I smile at her and say: ¨I hope I won't be seeing you here very often miss...¨. ¨Danielle, that's my name. And no, I hope so. Not here at least. Good evening.¨ she says as she walks away very flirty. I somehow feel guilty for my interaction at the moment. But I don't give it a lot of thought, we grab a coffee to begin and figure out who the fuck is wandering around without a finger. Jones doesn't seem to remember anything besides getting beaten the fuck up by some Italian giant in the fridge. And then it started working, everything in my mind started hitting every single spot. Why would they send me with an amputated finger unless they wanted to send a message? I start looking at the finger and I notice there's a ring mark on it. But there was no one else that night with us, was there? I started putting down in a tissue all the names of the people that I encountered that day. ¨Fuck... Jones, call the station. Ask for Betty, the receptionist.¨ I look at him worried. He goes to the public phone, running. I remembered Betty following me around and trying to get my attention, but I didn't care much about it, she was a young lady looking to rank up I thought. I hear him scream outside the restaurant. I go outside, I see Jones on his knees. I approach him. ¨It's her Jake, they chopped her up, she had no fingers on her hands! She was just a kid Jake, just a fucking kid!¨ he shouts to the air. Rage starts consuming me, wrath begins to take over my body. A car goes by us, the passenger covers me with red paint, and it hits my face. But I won't take it, not this time. I take out my gun and shoot three times at the driver's window, it suddenly hits the corner and I run to it like a mad person. ¨You found the ragazza huh?¨ he says smiling at me. ¨Come on, let me go, we both know I'll be outta jail soon enough.¨ he keeps reminding me. I no longer care about my values or my ego. ¨Rot in hell motherfucker¨ I say as I unload three shots into his body. Jones approaches me, I look behind covered in rainwater, blood, and paint. ¨What have we done Crawford?¨ he says confused. ¨Justice. And we're just getting started.¨ I reply.