“Sounds nice,” I responded, “is it a special occasion?”
“Yeah, this year’s our fifth anniversary, so I got her something nice.”
We walked in, and there were two men behind the counter, one younger wearing a dark suit, and one older man, wearing a white shirt and a bowtie. Judging by their expressions, they were having a serious disagreement about something.
Walter teasingly called out, “Hey, Sednicki, how about little service for your best customer?”
The younger scowling man turned and barked, “Shop’s closed. Come back tomorrow.” Walter’s eyes narrowed, and he started walking towards the pair. The kid warned, “Are you fucking deaf? I said we was closed!”
In his low, growling voice Walter asked, “Mr. Sednicki, is there a problem?”
I knew that tone; if Walter was using it, it was a sign he was ready to be dangerous. This was seldom ended well for whoever caused it. Sednicki stammered, “Walter, Mr. Mindo here seems to think I owe his employer money.”
Walter addressed the younger man, “Who’s your employer, Mindo?”
The kid snapped back, “I work for Mr. Bartolo, now get the fuck out!”
Walter responded, “Well, it just so happens I’m about to have dinner with Mr. Bartolo, and I know for a fact that Sednicki don’t owe shit. He paid off his debts to Mr. Bartolo years ago.”
The young thug turned towards Walter and scowled, trying to intimidate him. Intimidate Walter Connor? Sure, like THAT was ever going to happen. The obviously inexperienced enforcer’s voice got louder, as if he was reaching his boiling point, “Oh, yeah? How do you figure that, Mr. Know-It-All?”
Walter very gently pushed back the side of his jacket, exposing the holster that held his Raging Bull 454. “Because I was the guy who used to collect the payments for Mr. Bartolo.”
At the sight of Walter’s.454, the kid’s bravado disappeared. “Who the hell are you?” he asked.
Walter stepped up close to the kid, and spoke softly, “I’m Walter fucking Connor you little piss-ant, and this discussion is now over. Now get the fuck out and don’t come back.”
The man stepped out from behind the counter to leave, and as he headed for the door, he snapped, “If you’re really Walter Connor, you worked for the old guy, Sal Senior. Sal Junior runs things now, I work for him! He ain’t gonna be happy you stuck your nose in things.”
Walter called after him, “Life’s full of fucking disappointments, ain’t it?”
The door slammed shut, and Walter turned back to his friend, calm and cheerful as if nothing had happened. “Now, how’s about that custom jewelry order, Sednicki?”
The man reached behind the counter and brought out two slim rectangular black velvet boxes. I noticed his hands were shaking; frankly I couldn’t blame him. He stammered, “Walter, thank you. I don’t know what to do. Sal Junior is demanding protection money now.”
As my partner opened the boxes, he told Mr. Sednicki, “That ain’t right. This ain’t Topeka or Kansas City. Coffeyville is way outside his territory. I’ll have a word with Senior.”
Walter thanked Sednicki, pocketed the jewelry, and we got back in the motorhome. Due to our encounter with the young enforcer we were running behind schedule, so we were a few minutes late when we walked through the old wooden door of Perugia Gardens.
When we entered there were two large men in black suits standing on either side of the door. Walter greeted them, “Pete, Lou, nice seeing you guys.”
One of them, I guessed it was Pete, answered, “Good seeing you, Walter. Ain’t been the same without ya.”
The place was empty, no tables were occupied. A tiny elderly woman – I assumed this was Momma Leone – came out of the kitchen, saw Walter and rushed to hug him, speaking in rapid-fire Italian. “Walter! È meraviglioso rivederti! And look, you brought your moglie e bambini!” She leaned over and kissed Jackie and Athena on their cheeks. “So beautiful, like their mother!”
Then, she turned to Trent. “And here’s the big brother! Such a big strong boy, proprio come suo padre! Trent then reluctantly accepted his allocation of grandmotherly kisses.
Walter introduced Laura and I, “This is Dotty’s sister Laura, and her husband Tom.”
The little woman’s face lit up, and she held a hand to Laura’s cheek. “Ah! Che bellezza, come tua sorella! I may have to keep my husband locked up in the kitchen! If he sees these two sisters, he may fall in love with you both!”
Then she made a fuss over Ruthie, hiding behind TJ’s legs. “And who is this little fanciulla fatata, eh? Such a tiny beauty!”
Always the protective brother, TJ picked Ruthie up. “This is my baby sister Ruthie, and I’m TJ. She’s 4, but she’s shy.”
“And you, bel fratello maggiore with such a nice suit! You look like your father, but you dress like your Uncle Walter!”
This was actually true — the suit TJ was wearing came from Walter’s tailor. When Walter heard TJ had attempted proposing to Natty, he was impressed. He’d told TJ, “If you’re gonna act like a man, you’re gonna dress like a man”, and took him to get a custom suit made, as well as buying him imported dress shoes. In his tailored suit and patent leather shoes, TJ was now the best dressed 12-year-old in Oklahoma.
A man about my age came out of the kitchen and announced the appetizers were coming out in a minute. Mama walked towards the back, waving for us to follow her. “Mr. Bartolo is in the private dining room, vieni!”
We walked in, and there he was, rising to his feet. Although we’d spoken on the phone many times since, I hadn’t seen Quiet Sal in person since the first time I’d met him about a dozen years ago. Walter once told me that for his own safety, Sal usually didn’t leave his office for face-to-face meetings. I guess that’s how he’d stayed alive as long as he did.
Sal was still tall and thin, although no longer with a ramrod-straight posture; he stood a bit stooped now. His hair was thinning and completely silver now, his face showing a lot more lines than I would have expected. He looked 10 years older than his 68 years.
“Welcome, my friends,” he said, walking around the table and shaking hands with Walter and me. Then he looked at our wives. “These must be the beautiful women who make Walter and Tom’s lives worth living.”
He bent and kissed each of their hands. “I am delighted to meet you at last.” Laura and Dotty both nodded and smiled in return. I had to hand it to him, even at 68, Quiet Sal had an elegant way with the ladies.
Then he turned to TJ and Trent. Shaking their hands, he said, “Nice to meet you boys. I’m your Uncle Sal.” He took out two $20 bills, tearing them both in half. Two halves he put in his pocket, the other two he gave one each to the boys and winked. “You boys keep these. They’re like promises. When you need something serious, you bring the half-bill to your Uncle Sal, whatever it is, I’ll take care of it.”
Sal then gently patted each of the three girls on the head. “Such wonderful little beauties,” he said admiringly, “you two men have been truly blessed.” I had to admit, he wasn’t wrong.
Sal took his seat. “If you don’t mind, ladies and gentlemen, I’d like the children to go into another dining room while we dine and talk. We’ve got it set up with paper and crayons and games, so they can amuse themselves after they eat.” Laura and Dotty nodded, and Mama Leone came in to show them the way. TJ and Trent went first, and their sisters followed.