The Adventures of Holds and Wayson

The Story of The Scars

In honor of Al Capone's 121st birthday and in honor of The 100th Anniversary of Prohibition, I present to you this story. 

Bottoms Up,

Swell Owl Stories

****THE STORY OF THE SCARS****

It was the beginning of The Great War when Holds and I arrived in America. We figured we would be safe from enlistment there. We chose to settle in the dirtiest town with the dirtiest crowd: Brooklyn, New York. It was in this rotting city where my partner, Samuel Holds, and I, Doctor Josh Wayson (not to be confused with our more famous counterparts across the ocean) had managed to find some work thanks to a lovely, young Italian lady by the name of Lena Gallucio, who just so happened to confuse the two of us with two famous gentlemen in who lived off of Baker Street.

"Mister Holmes," she cried out in a thick Italian accent as she sobbed into her handkerchief.

"That's Holds," my partner said correcting her.

She apologized before continuing. "My brother has been missing for days now. I can't seem to find after...after what happened last Friday." She continued to cry until I put my arm around her and asked her to tell us what happened.

It was on this Friday night where she went out dancing with a few of her friends. On her way to the loo, a man tapped her on her rear end and told her, "Honey, you've got a nice ass, and I mean that as a compliment." Her brother, Frank, not only saw the incident but heard the comment as well.

Frank Gallucio hit the man in the face, but the man wouldn't back down despite what she called, her brother's intimidating height (Lena's brother apparently is over six American feet tall). The man came at Mister Gallucio and in self-defense, Gallucio pulled out a knife from his pocket and slashed the man's face. The man who made a pass at her and attacked her brother was apparently part of a famous gangster outfit in Brooklyn called The Five Points Gang, which was headed up by a man by the name of Frankie Yale, a man of great power and influence in The New York Area, because of this, Lena feared her brother may be already dead.

"What was the name of the man your brother attacked with a knife?" I asked as I placed my hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

"His name was Alphonse Capone," she said, "but he goes by Al."

Al Capone.

Holds agreed to take the case, but he asked for an advance because it was so dangerous.

"I have no money," our cute dark-haired Italian client told us, "but we have plenty of food. We could pay you in pasta."

That was enough for Holds to hear. We were on the case.

Lena told us where she had been the night of the incident. Holds and I paid the establishment a visit hoping to Capone would be there as well and sure enough, he was.

Capone wasn't a tall man, but he wasn't a short one either. He stood about five feet and ten inches tall and that was without the white big-brimmed fedora that covered the top of him. He had a round face and a round head, but he was not plump by any means. On the side of his round face where the scars Gallucio had left there. They were fairly fresh and not a pleasant sight to look at.

"Mister Capone," Holds said approaching the man, "allow me to introduce myself. I am.."

"I know who you are," Capone said in a tough New York accent. "You're those two famous English guys Gallucio's sister hired to find him."

We were both surprised to learn that news travels just as fast in New York as it does in London.

Capone continued to talk. "I'm looking for him too," he informed us, "and when I find him..." he ran his index finger across his double-chin.

He threw a shot of Templeton Rye Whiskey down his throat before he informed us of the substantial reward we would be given if we found Gallucio and turned the tall Italian over to him instead of bringing him back to his sister.

Holds considered it, but my right hand prevented him from speaking. I told Mister Capone we would consider it and nothing more.

We left the club and as soon as we turned the corner, two big hands grabbed the two of us by our collars. The hands belonged to Frank Gallucio.

"What are you guys doing talking to Capone?" He asked.

We started to inform him of who we were when he cut us off.

"I know you guys," he said in a thick deep voice. "My sister hired you to find me."

News travels fast even in the shadows.

I informed Mister Gallucio of how his sister was worried about him and how he must come home.

"I can't do that," he said. "I'd be bumped off by the end of the day."

Holds had an idea. "What if we talk to Frankie Yale? I am sure he is a reasonable man."

Gallucio laughed as if Holds had just said the greatest joke in the world. "You two are going to talk to Frankie Yale on my behalf? Give me a break."

We were.

Gallucio informed us of where we could find Yale.

When we approached the door to his hideout, we knocked on it. A small piece of wood slid from the middle of the door and a pair of eyes asked us, "Whaddaya want?"

"We are here to see Mister Yale," Holds informed him.

"And just who are you?" The set of eyes asked.

I jumped in front of Holds and shouted with pride, "Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson."

"What are you doing?" Holds whispered in my ear.

"Trust me on this one," I mumbled back to him. 

The eyes looked at us before telling us of how they heard of us. The wooden panel slid back and the door opened.

Holds and I were patted down from top to bottom and as soon as the goons had finished, we were escorted to Yale's office.

Holds presented his case, informing Yale how this was nothing more than a man defending his sister. He concluded his defense of Gallucio by saying, "If you had a sister, would you not do the same?"

Yale thought about it for a second before telling Holds he had a point. 

The door opened behind us and a giant of a man walked through it. It was Gallucio.

"I heard the whole thing," he said. "Thank you for going to bat for me Mister Holmes, I really do appreciate it," he looked down at the ground and then he raised his eyes to Yale, "but this is my mess and I need to clean it up."

"Rightfully so," Yale said before he told one of his goons to go get Capone.

Al Capone walked through the door a few seconds letter. He was surprised to see Gallucio there, but a half-smile the shape of his scars formed after he saw us. "I see you boys got him," he said. "I should have known you would."

Yale cut him off and said, "Shake hands."

We were confused by who he was addressing, so Holds and I shook hands with each other.

"Not you two!" Yale screamed. "Al, shake hands with Gallucio."

We were all surprised.

Yale informed all of us that he was making Capone and Gallucio shake hands and that this was a simple misunderstanding and the two of them were to put this behind them and no mention of it was to ever be brought up again.

The men agreed and so did Holds and I, even though we weren't part of the conversation.

As soon as we were outside, Frank Gallucio thanked us for what we had done.

No worries," Holds said before mentioning how his sister owed us a giant plate of spaghetti.

While Holds was thinking about food, I was thinking about what would be worse, being in a war or running into the like of Frankie Yale and Al Capone again.