Bone in the Throat - Anthony Bourdain [110]
"How about us?" asked Danny. "Can the kid hurt us?"
"No," said Charlie. "That was the only thing, that one time. That's been handled. You talked to Sally. Sally's gone. So you don't have a problem."
"What does Skinny wanna do?"
"He wants the kid clipped . . . One conviction, one count, he's out in fifteen years. Two, he's gonna grow old in there. So he's worried."
"Can't blame the guy," said Danny. "So, you want me to do something about it?"
"Not right now," said Charlie. "The way things are, with this rat dentist gone, Sally gone, those two inna can, the lawyer says he thinks they gonna lose interest in the racketeering thing. All they had there was Sally and them, and Sally ain't around to prosecute no more. The dentist ain't gonna be talkin' to nobody, so the lawyer says we should be okay. I don't wanna do nothin' makes 'em interested again." Charlie stopped walking and wrapped the bathrobe closely around his neck, "Fuckin cold," he said.
"What about the kid?" asked Danny.
"You ain't listenin' to me or somethin'?" said Charlie. "I don't wanna do nothin' right now . . . I got enough shit right now with that fag out there in Brooklyn all pissed at me and the fuckin' lawyers callin' me every ten fuckin' minutes. Let's give it a fuckin' rest. . . We don't have no problem . . . Somethin' needs to be done, we can do it later. The lawyer'll let me know they callin' witnesses. He thinks of a thing before the fuckin' prosecutor even thinks of it. The cops got a nice easy case to try. They're happy. I want 'em to stay happy."
"The lawyer told me it would be good if the kid wasn't around," said Danny.
"He said that?"
"He said it would be better. You know how they talk."
"Listen," said Charlie. "I hadda fuckin' dime for every time some smart fuckin' lawyer told me maybe somebody or other should get clipped, that maybe it would be a good thing . . . I . . . I'd be a rich man. As it is . . . I gotta pay this prick a hundred thousand bucks and the son of a bitch is gonna end up pleading anyways . . . Fuckin' lawyers. They watch too many fuckin' movies out there in Scarsdale, wherever they live . . . Always wanna whack a guy first . . . You know, I pay those pricks cash? You think they tell the tax people about that? I tell you, Danny, that's who the real fuckin' gangsters are, the fuckin' lawyers."
"Can he do somethin with the jury?" asked Danny. "He's gotta plead?"
"I told him I didn't wanna do that. I don't wanna go that route. First of all, it costs. Second of all, it's just gonna piss everybody off, the cops, the feds, it'll be all over the papers I pull somethin' like that. They don't get a conviction, there's gonna be all kinda problems. Then they come after you and me . . . Who needs that? They gonna do that thing with the jury anyways—where they lock 'em in a fuckin' room, nobody knows the names, they put 'em up in a Holiday Inn somewheres till the trial's over. They catch somebody you know, any friend of ours even talkin' to somebody who knows somebody on that jury and there's gonna be all sortsa problems. Nah . . . even Skin don't expect me to do nothin' about that . . . I don't need that right now. They just gonna have to suck it up and do some time."
"What about the restaurant? What happens there?" asked Danny.
"The place is closed. When the cops are done snoopin' around down there they'll probably sell it, put it onna block, take care a the people this guy owed money to. A course I ain't gonna see dollar one. You watch, those people in Brooklyn are gonna get fifty cents on the dollar for haulin' trash . . . Me, I'm stuck for around ninety long. Fuckin' Sally. Been givin' my fuckin' money to the fuckin' feds. I ain't gonna see nothin' outta there. Fuckin' Sally . . . I'd like to kill that pile a shit all over again. 'Solid' is what he tells me . . . this guy, the dentist,