Hit & Mrs. (28 page)

“Call the police, Augusta.” Gemma glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw Candy turn on a dime and chase after her. “Oh no you don't, you bastard. I'm going home to my family.”

Augusta called 911. “Hello? You've got to help us. We're being chased by mobsters. What? I don't know.” She turned to Gemma. “Where are we?”

“How the hell should I know? Tell them we passed a sign for Yankee Stadium.”

“We passed a sign for Yankee Stadium…what?” Augusta turned to Gemma. “Which direction are we headed?”

“We're headed
away
from the gangsters trying to kill us. For God's sake, tell them we're being chased. We don't have time to consult a map.”

Augusta screamed into the phone. “We're in a white van and we're driving much too fast. There's a black car on our tail…what kind?…

Uh…it's big and sort of creepy looking. Well, I'm sorry if I can't be more specific. Do you want me to poke my head out the window and get it shot off?”

“Tell them I just saw a sign for a museum.”

Augusta repeated Gemma's observation and turned to look at her. “They say that means we're headed north.”

“Good. If we keep going we can make the Canadian border.” She glanced at the dashboard. “Damn, we're almost out of gas. Candy's a cheapskate as well as a dick. Tell them to hurry up.”

“Hurry up! You have to help us. These horrible men are after us.

They want us dead. What? I'm Augusta Ramsey and I'm with my friend Gemma Rossi. We don't know where our other friends are—”

Gemma turned the wheel to go up a one-way street and caught the edge of the sidewalk. They bounced in the air and the cellphone flew out of Augusta's hand just as Candy's car drew up beside them.

“Duck!” Gemma grabbed Augusta's head and pushed her down. A shot rang out and the driver-side mirror disappeared. Gemma saw the gun on the floor and reached for it.

“Gemma, don't! You might kill someone.”

“That's the idea.”

Gemma fired it but in her panic forgot the side window was up.

The noise of shattered glass made both women cry out. “Get out of the van, Gussie. I'll cover you.”

“I'm not going anywhere without you.”

Candy yanked open the passenger-side door, reached in, and grabbed Augusta by the hair. “Put that fucking gun down or I'll blow your friend's head off.”

Flea was furious with Tony for losing sight of Candy's car. He leaned over the front seat and gave the back of his head a whack. “Now what are we supposed to do? We've lost everything.”

“It's not my fault,” Tony said. “This piece of junk belongs to you. I told you to get a tune-up.”

Blue raised his hand. “Since we're not chasing anyone anymore, can I leave?”

Now it was Blue's turn to get a smack on the head.

“This is all your doing, you moron. Do you think I'm going to let you get away with it? The minute I can stand up, you're dead.”

“So what do we do now?” Tony asked.

“The only thing we can do. Get the money from that crazy woman on the phone and get the hell outta town.”

“But what about the broads at the house?”

“When you-know-who comes lookin' for us and we're not around, they're done for. That's one job I don't have to worry about.”

“I don't like this,” Tony admitted. “I don't like this at all.”

“Who cares what you like?” Flea grabbed his leg. “Oh, this is killin' me.”

“Want somethin' for the pain?” Blue asked.

Flea hit him again. “You've got somethin' and you never gave it to me before? Hurry up, jackass. Hand it over.”

Blue rummaged through his pockets and came up with some powerful painkillers. “These are good.” He handed them over his shoulder to Flea.

Flea swallowed three pills without the benefit of water and nearly choked. “This better work…”

“…or I'm dead meat. I know. Ya said that before.”

Another smack on the head for Blue.

The Weinberg gang were in the city and they were lost. Not one of them had ever been to New York. Added to that was their general anxiety about when the kidnapper would call again.

“We should call the detective and tell him we're here,” Mordecai said. “Maybe there's been some progress on the case, and he can tell us where the heck we are.”

That's when the phone rang and everyone shouted. Mordecai had a hard time keeping the van on the road. “Stop panicking, you're going to get us all killed.”

Ida answered the cell. “Hello?”

“Ya got the moolah?”

“Yeah, I've got the money. Where's my daughter?”

“Furs things furs.”

“What? What are you saying? I can't understand you. Hello?”

There was nothing but giggling.

“There's nothing funny about this. My daughter is missing and I want you to tell me where she is.” Ida put her hand over the phone. “This guy's laughing.”

Izzy grabbed the phone and started to say something, but his cough kicked in and he couldn't get the words out. Mordecai yanked it from his old man and put it to his ear.

“Where do we meet you?”

“Wha?”

“Where do we meet you? Where do we drop off the money?”

“Money? What money?”

“Are you trying to be a wise guy? This is a serious situation.”

“Whoa. Whoa there cowboy. Hold your horseseseses. I'm gettin' to that.”

“Your voice keeps fading away,” Mordecai shouted. “Talk to me.” He heard a struggle and arguing. “Hello? Hello?”

Another voice came on the phone. “Meet us at Washington Square Park, under the arch. Come alone. If you call the police, she's dead.”

“But where is she? Will she be there?”

“Who are you? Where's the woman?”

“She's here.” Mordecai passed the phone to his mother. “He wants you.”

“Yes? What is it?” Ida said into the phone.

“I only want you there.”

“Fine. No problem.”

“Meet us in half an hour.”

“Will Bette be there?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Okay. Don't hurt her.” The phone went dead. “How far away is Washington Square Park?” Ida asked.

They consulted their maps. Everyone but Izzy agreed that Ida was the go-between and that the rest of the family would stay in the shadows and pounce if something went wrong.

“I don't think your mother should be out in the open like that. What if they kill her?”

“Then they'll finally accomplish what you've been trying to do for years.”

Mordecai protested. “Ma, don't say such horrible things. You know you don't mean it. He's worried about you.”

“So he says.”

“I am. I am worried,” Izzy yelled at her. “First my daughter goes missing and then they kill my wife?”

Ida thawed a little. “Gee, I didn't think you cared.”

“Of course I care, you stupid woman. Who'll feed me and clean the house?”

Ida threw the cellphone at him. It smashed against the windshield and broke into pieces.

Linda and Bette drove like maniacs but had no idea where they were going. Linda tried to break every traffic rule in the book, but it went unnoticed.

“How come there's never a policeman around when you need one? If I did this on any other day, I'd have a SWAT team after me.”

Bette kept her eyes peeled. As peeled as eyes can be without their glasses. “I don't see a phone booth or anything. We have to get to a phone.”

They rushed down several more streets. Bette squinted as best she could. “Wait, I think there's a phone booth up ahead.”

“That's a bus stand.”

“Oh.”

“Wait. What's that?” Linda pointed straight ahead.

Bette leaned into the windshield and peered intently through the glass. “I don't see anything.”

“There. There. At the stop sign. There's a guy on a bike using a cellphone. Roll down the window and grab it from him.”

“Are you serious? Can't we ask him to use it?”

Linda shouted at her. “We don't have time. Lean out the window and grab it from him. Hurry up, Bette. It's our only chance.”

So Bette rolled down the window and hung out over the side. Linda slowed down and steered as close to the man as she dared. He never looked at them, just continued to natter away. Bette reached out and tore the phone from his hand.

The guy was momentarily stunned. “Hey…hey…gimme that.”

“Go!”

Linda stepped on the gas, which caused Bette to lose her balance and drop the phone. “Bloody hell.”

The man chased them on his bike, cursing. He picked the phone off the pavement and waved his fist at them until they disappeared.

Bette sank back in her seat. “Sorry.”

“Never mind.” Linda pulled over to the side of the road and shut off the car. “We must be far enough away from those maniacs. Let's ask someone in those houses over there if we can use their phone to call the police.”

“I don't think people open their doors to strangers anymore.”

“Well, we have to try. Gemma and Augusta are counting on us.”

They got out of the car and walked up to the first duplex that had a car in front of it. They rang the doorbell. A bevy of barking began, along with a man's voice. “Shut up, the lot of ya.”

Linda and Bette looked at each other.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else?” Bette said.

They didn't have time. The door opened and a slovenly looking man with the world's biggest beer belly stood there, his undershirt barely concealing his body. They stepped back.

“What do ya want?”

Only they weren't sure what he said, because there were five rabid-looking miniature dachshunds slipping and sliding up the hallway towards them.

“Never mind.” Linda grabbed Bette by the sleeve and pulled her away from the door. The two of them ran from the porch to the side–walk as the wiener dogs poured over and down the steps, yapping and snarling.

The women sprinted down the street, but the dogs gained on them until their owner let out a sharp whistle—then they stopped on a dime and strutted back to the front door, their mission accomplished.

When Linda could breathe again, she hollered, “Keep your dogs on a leash.”

“That'll teach ya to stay away from my property.” The man slammed the door shut as soon as his canine terrorists were back inside.

Bette stood there panting, and when she looked at Linda her shoulders started to shake.

“Don't cry, Bette.”

Bette wasn't crying. She was laughing. She was laughing so hard she wasn't making a sound. Linda hit her arm. “Stop that. You're hysterical.”

“Oh my God, I wonder what normal people do on their vacations.” Linda didn't answer her. She was running after a police car that had appeared, waving her arms, yelling, “STOP! STOP!”

The Weinbergs scrambled out of the van, and not very gracefully. Ida insisted on being taken out immediately, and as luck would have it her wheelchair had a wonky tire, no doubt thanks to her mishap at the gas station. “Hurry up, you numbskulls.”

“Ma, do you want to scare the kidnappers away?” Mordecai said. “Lower your voice.”

“Stop ordering me around. Where's the money? Someone give me the money.”

“We're trying to. Hold your horses.”

Izzy passed Mordecai the knapsack filled with twenty-dollar bills. They hid a sweater at the bottom of the bag to bulk it up a bit and covered everything up with the cash. It looked like a lot more than seven thousand dollars, and hopefully the ruse would work long enough to grab Bette and run. Mordecai put it in Ida's lap.

They stood as a group to listen to last-minute instructions. They were oblivious to the curious looks being thrown their way.

“Remember, I'm going in alone,” Ida said. “They only want me.”

“Maybe we're wrong,” Uncle Sid said. “They might grab the money and run away from you.”

“I know that, you birdbrain. I wasn't born yesterday. If that happens, everyone tackle them. We have enough for a football team.”

“Look at us.” Uncle Sid pointed to his sons and nephews. “We're skinny Jews from the city. We have an accountant, a mortician, a dentist, a doctor, a banker, a baker…”

“…a candlestick maker…shut up already. Even wimps like your boys can trip someone if they have to.”

“
My
boys?”

“Never mind.” The ashes from Izzy's cigarette fell on Ida's head. “Sid, you and yours go into the park. Pretend like you're walking.”

Ida swivelled around to look at her husband. “Pretend like they're walking? How do they do that? If they're walking, they're walking.”

Mordecai wrung his hands. “Will you two knock it off? This is serious. Everyone disperse. I'll be closest to Ma. Pop, you stay back. If you start to cough you might spook them.”

“Wait a minute…”

Ida started to roll away. “Do as you're told, Izzy.”

Twelve members of Bette's family went every which way. Ida led the charge and Mordecai and his brother David had a hard time keeping up with her. She whizzed past the arched gate and made several loops around the entrance, peering at anyone who came near her. Izzy and Sid found themselves behind a bush, as Bette's cousins and other brothers paraded around trying to look inconspicuous.

They were a disaster waiting to happen, and it didn't take long.

Not far away, Tony pulled into a parking spot. Flea was having a hard time keeping his eyes open, thanks to the painkillers, and Blue was just plain bored.

“Can I leave once we have the money?” Blue asked. “I don't want a share.”

Flea went to hit him on the back of the head but missed. “You wasn't getting any, no how.”

“I better go get the money,” Tony said. “You can't limp into a park with a bloody leg. Wait here and I'll come back.”