The Starlight Club: The Starlight Club (Mystery Mob Series Book 1) (4 page)

Chapter Five

Sirens wailed as the ambulance lurched forward, made a right turn onto One Hundred Eleventh Street, raced towards Roosevelt Avenue, and made another right turn under the El speeding toward the Flushing Hospital Emergency room
. Big Red watched the ambulance leave, then walked up the steps carefully stepping over torn, wrecked sheetrock and debris to get a better look at the damage the four punks had inflicted. While taking stock of the damage, Artie, Red’s contractor, walked in with two helpers, carrying the ever-present pad that contractors use for preparing their estimates. Artie gave the place a quick glance over inspection. From all the years doing this sort of work, he knew what was needed, so he made a list more from memory than from anything else. When he finished, he motioned to Red. Red nodded and walked toward the bar. Artie laid out some papers and pointed to the areas that needed immediate attention, working his way down, in order of priority, and handed Red an invoice.

“I’ll give you the cost of materials later. As soon as Lou leaves to get the material, I’m gonna’ start collecting the garbage. I have a truck parked outside and when I get a full load, we’ll take this shit to the dumps
. Then we’ll start ripping down the back wall so when my man returns with the sheet rock and drywall compound, we can get the new wall up. I told Lou to get fast drying compound so we can paint early and get ready for tonight. I have the mirror guys working on replacing the mirrors. They told me they have that size mirror in stock and all they have to do is trim and frame ‘em. They assured me they’d have ‘em installed by tonight.”

Red liked what he was hearing. “Sounds good
. Go ahead and do whatever you have to. I need to open tonight.”

Artie gave his worker a list of materials. The man headed straight to Dykes Lumber Yard in Long Island City
. By the time his man returned, Artie and his crew would have the place ready to start the repairs. In the meantime, workers were already focusing on the bar so drinks could be served tonight. Alcohol was a big part of their business. The bar was a priority.

Artie continued, “I’ll have you ready to open tonight, and if any touching up is needed, I’ll do it in the morning, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary
. Before I forget, did you call the vending company and ask if they have replacements for the machines that were destroyed?”

“Yeah,” Red replied
. “I called the vending machine owners soon as I got the call from Trenchie and man were they pissed off! They were not happy campers.”

Red looked at his watch. “They should be here anytime now.”

“Well, if that’s the case then I don’t see why we can’t be ready for the dinner crowd.”

“Good, Artie, that’s what I want to hear. You get everything done by tonight and there’ll be a bonus in it for you.”

“I’ll give it my best shot, Red. Don’t worry, it’ll get done. ”

“That’s all anyone can ask. Thanks Artie.”

As Red sat down to speak with Trenchie, he noticed blood running down the side of Trenchie’s head, onto his face.

“Jesus, Trench, your head is wide open and you’re bleeding like a stuck pig. You need stitches
. Come on. I’m takin’ you to the hospital.”

Trenchie laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking - if I bumped into those four clowns again and they were awake, I’d feel obligated to put them back to sleep again.”

“Come on Trench, be serious. It’s over. I talked to Yip. They’re gonna’ be booked. But I’m not gonna’ let you out of my sight, just in case. The last thing I need is for you to be goin’ back to the Slammer.”

The doctor administering the stitches, asked his typical questions - how it happened, what instrument hit him, what he fell against, and all Trenchie said was - he was mugged. He had no idea who the punks were. All he knew was that there were four of them and they got worse than what they gave.

“You couldn’t mean the four guys that came in a little while ago do you?

“Could be, Doc.”

As the doctor carefully looped seven stitches into Trenchie’s head, he noticed his bruised arm and asked him to remove his shirt so he could examine it more carefully. He couldn’t help but notice the scars.
              “Where’d you get these?”

Trenchie shrugged at first, then said, “Happened in the war.
” The doctor seemed content with this story, sort’a admiring him in a way but in the back of his mind he thought that it might or might not be true.

Driving home, Red kept checking on Trenchie, asking if he was all feeling all right and how he felt
. Trenchie, pointing to his head, simply said, “This is nothing,” but he seemed distant, in thought.

“Somethin’s bothering you Trench. What is it?”

“You know, Red. Somethin’s not right with this picture.”

“Whatta’ you mean?”

“Last night, it was almost as if these punks were looking for a fight, a reason to bust things up, like they wanted to start somethin’, almost like it was planned, and when they couldn’t do whatever the hell they wanted to do, they came back this morning. I don’t believe in coincidences. If I’m right, this happened for a reason, but why? Who benefits from your place gettin’ shut down? Who benefits from the vending machines being destroyed knowin’ who owns ‘em? Who has it in for you and is
not afraid
to go after a made guy? Ask yourself that and you might find out who was behind it. Now I could be wrong. It could just be a few dumb punk kids lookin’ for some excitement, but somethin’s not right here. Just think about it, because it’s been buggin’ me all morning. Now do me a favor and lend me a car. I wanna’ pick up a couple of suits and some other duds while the bar’s gettin’ repaired.”

Red tossed Trenchie the keys to his car and recommended Valentino Maximus for Trenchie’s new wardrobe.
He wrote the name and address on a slip of paper telling him it was ‘the place’ where the guys who could afford it bought their clothes. Trenchie placed the slip of paper in his pocket and walked to the lot across the street got into the car and turned left onto One hundred Eleventh Street and headed straight to the Long Island Expressway. He took the LIE to the midtown tunnel, then Fourteenth Street across to Seventh Avenue, where he parked his car at the first spot he found. He walked the rest of the way to Spring Street—to the location of the New York outpost of an exclusive Italian firm, known only by those in the top percentile who could afford their wares. Valentino was thirty-seven years old and created the most exquisite handmade men’s suits in all of New York City. His father, Flavio, still operating from the original store in Florence, Italy that he started when he was twenty-one years old, refused to leave his motherland, but had passed the trade down to his son.

Once inside, Trenchie announced that he was in a buying mood and asked to see a few of their best
. Trenchie was promptly escorted into a room where a tailor was busy pinning cuffs, while a customer stood on a platform in front of a mirror. Trenchie was led to a vacant mirror where he was shown two hand-stitched suits - each with the crisp sharpness that was part of the Maximus signature. One included a sleek one-button jacket that could do double duty as a tuxedo, another, a narrow two-button suit that he was assured was rapidly gaining popularity. The details are what did it for Trenchie: intensely colored linings, and the tiny puckers at the shoulder seam indicating a sleeve that’s been set by hand. The Spring Street store kept a modest stock of ready-to-wear suits on hand for around five hundred per suit, but the real deal here had the base price of seven hundred fifty dollars, not including fabric. Trenchie bought two suits, two pairs of shoes, five expensive silk shirts, and five silk ties. He charged it on his brand new restaurant charge card. It felt great not having to worry about money. He left the store pleased. The suits were quality - no question that you get what you pay for. He slung the suits over his shoulder, placed the shopping bag with other items in his free hand and started to walk toward his car which was parked three city blocks from Maximus. He was in no hurry. If he rushed back, he would only get in the way of the workers doing repairs in the club. He thought of stopping for a drink in a little quiet place, somewhere to kill a little time, but first he wanted to put his clothes into the car. With all the bars in New York City, one had to be near where the car was parked, he thought, but then his mind began to wander. Hell it was great to be out of prison, out in the fresh New York air with the sun shining. Funny, his old man popped into head. He remembered his father telling him to take a moment to smell the roses, but he never knew exactly what he meant by that

It was a beautiful sunlit day. Trenchie had never paid attention to birds singing before except of course in a pet store, but today he heard them almost as if it were for the first time and they were busy chirping and chattering and flying about
. Then he focused on the sounds of the city. He had dreamed of this for ten long years. He wasn’t rushing anywhere. Trenchie thought about his life and some things he’d done that he wasn’t real proud of. He killed men, but he never took pleasure in it, and he never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. Yeah sometimes he was ordered to do things he felt weren’t right but he had his orders. He was a soldier and did what he was told. The punks last night were different. He felt nothing when he hurt them. They deserved what they got and he could have killed them easily without remorse. If he hadn’t overtaken those guys, he would probably be a dead man right now. An eye for an eye. That was the way of the streets.

The streets tell a story to the man who listens. Trenchie had been a child of the streets. Something wasn’t right with those punks last night but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Is that what ten years in prison does to a man, makes him forget things he should know
? It’ll come to me, he thought, as he adjusted the two suits hanging over his shoulder to a more comfortable position. He continued his walk towards his car, stopping occasionally to view merchandise in the numerous city storefront windows. He almost stopped to visit the New York City Fire Museum, but changed his mind. He wanted to get his new stuff to the car. He crossed the street and continued his leisurely walk.

Just as Trenchie crossed a merchandise delivery alley, he heard a scream. His eyes darted around trying to determine the source
. Another scream. It seemed to come from his right toward the end of the alley. The alley was shaded in darkness, making it hard to see. A third scream. He decided to investigate. He turned into the alleyway, walking the length of it until he saw two men. It appeared that they were either trying to rape or rob a frightened young woman. Trenchie placed the bag and his suits neatly on the ground and walked toward the men.

“What in hell do you guys think you’re doing?”

One of the men, a big man almost the size of Trenchie said, “Mind your own business if you know what’s good for you. Take a hike.”

“I don’t think I can do that. I never did learn how to mind my own business
. Now stop what you’re doing because it’s beginnin’ to aggravate me.”

“Listen punk, this is my wife and I’ve been looking for her for a long time so beat it.”

“Don’t think I can do that, bubb.”

The man had the woman by the neck
. She couldn’t escape. The woman screamed again and managed to speak.

“I was married to him for a month three years ago. He’s sick in the head and I divorced him
. He won’t let me alone and now he’s threatening me. I know he’ll kill me. Please call the police Mister, please.”

The big guy holding her was a well-built ugly bull of a man and for the life of him, Trenchie couldn’t figure out what the girl saw in him. He wasn’t a family counselor and really didn’t care about their domestic problems, but he did care about this guy abusing a woman. They didn’t do that where he came from.

“Hold on a minute,” he shouted to the woman. “I’ll get you out of here.”

The big man holding the girl
shot back at him. “Like hell you will! I told you to take a hike, now I’m gonna make you sorry you just didn’t keep on walkin’!” The man let go of the girl and ordered his partner to watch her while he took “care of this meddler.” He took a few steps toward Trenchie. Trenchie readied his hands.

“You’re making a big mistake pal. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Julius kept advancing. He was now at a good distance, a good distance for Trenchie that is. Before he could so much as raise his fist, Trenchie clocked him! First, a quick, sucker right that staggered the guy, followed by a series of hard lefts and hard rights. The surprised man went down. Trenchie turned his attention to the second man. He raised his hands, defensively, almost in a cowardly way.

“I don’t want any trouble man. He’s my cousin and I drove with him from Maryland to keep him company
. He’s a wild one and I warned him not to come to New York. We been following Mary for two days waiting for our chance to grab her. Julius wanted to bring her back with us so we followed her when she left her house this morning and watched her enter the dress shop. While she was inside applying for a job, that gave Julius the opportunity he was hoping for. We grabbed her when she left. That’s what we did. And I didn’t want any part of it but I went along with it and I’m sorry.”