Brutal_ The Untold Story of My Life Inside Whitey Bulger's Irish Mob - Kevin Weeks [111]
As soon as I heard that news, I just showed up at Theresa’s house on Silver Street in South Boston around seven at night and rang the bell. Theresa seemed a little surprised to see me, but let me in. She’d always been a beautiful woman, and dressed in dungarees and a long-sleeved white blouse, she still looked stunning. She was around fifty-four or fifty-five, with platinum-white hair. Right away, I said, “So, what are you doing going out with Alan Thistle?”
“He’s with Cathy,” she answered me. “I have my life to live.”
“There’s plenty of guys out there to go out with. Why him?” I said. “He’s an informant for law enforcement. He’s just pumping you for information.”
I knew Thistle worked for John Gamel and I’d always thought that he might be wired up. Once Thistle had asked a friend of mine what kind of watch he had. “If I get enough money off the FBI, I’m going to buy a watch like that,” he told my friend.
Before my friend could answer, I jumped in and said, “It’s a cheap one, not expensive.” I didn’t want him to have any info at all. I knew he would try and use the fact that my friend had a gold Piaget in a negative manner. You just had to measure every word you said to this guy.
Before Jimmy took off in 1994, while the investigation was going on, Thistle had approached me and another fellow and told the two of us he was getting $1,500 a month from Gamel. “Yeah, I know what he looks like,” I told him. “He’s always trying to follow us around.”
“Well, if you want to pay me, too,” he said, “I can be a double agent for you and Jimmy. I can let you know what they’re saying and what they’re doing.” He went on to tell me that they were bugging the benches where we sat at Castle Island.
“We’re not interested,” I told him. “We’re not doing anything.”
But that night at her house, Theresa kept defending him. “Everything you tell this guy, he’s going to go back and tell law enforcement,” I kept repeating. I was there close to three hours, trying to explain to her that she shouldn’t go out with this guy, that he was bad business.
Finally, when I got ready to leave, she said, “Well, it’s too late.”
“What do you mean it’s too late?” I asked.
She told me to come downstairs and follow her into the kitchen. In the kitchen, she lit up a cigarette. Jimmy hated her smoking, and she never smoked in front of him or me. I could see she was nervous, and her hands were shaking as she pulled out a card and handed it to me. The card said, FBI SPECIAL AGENT JOHN GAMEL. As I looked at it, she said, “I already talked to him. He came by the house and I told him everything. Where Jimmy and I were in New York. The name Thomas Baxter that he was using. Everything.” Even that she and Jimmy had stayed with a relative of mine in upstate New York. I could see she was real excited and nervous, but I needed to find out everything she had said about the six weeks she and Jimmy had been together on the run, especially about the ID that Jimmy had developed back in 1985 and had just started to use. “All right, relax, calm down,” I said gently. We were both standing up in her kitchen. If Thistle had walked in at that moment, I would have broken his jaw for him, but he didn’t. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.”
We talked for a few more minutes, although she didn’t have much more to add. Then I said, “I’ll get back to you,” and left. Hell hath no fury like that of a woman scorned. It certainly hadn’t made Theresa happy when Jimmy dumped her off and took off with Cathy ten minutes later. I never talked to Theresa again after that. There was no reason to.
Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do but wait for Jimmy’s call. After I saw Theresa, I visited Stevie at Plymouth and told him what she’d had done. Since it wasn’t safe to talk about most subjects on the prison phone, we both used