Page 41 of Shadow Ticket
“He tell you that himself?”
“ ‘Hope Twinkletoes ain’t taking it too personally,’ is how he put it. Plus best regards and sincere wishes for a speedy recovery of your nervous system.”
“Al Capone would’ve sent flowers at least.”
“Strange, almost like Don Peppino’s been in a long discussion about this with somebody.”
Which it has already occurred to Hicks might’ve been April, but so what? “Looking at the list of people I’ve gotten on the wrong side of…”
“Of course I don’t speak for the wholeconsorzio, but…” Hicks can hear the shrug even over the phone. “Somebody could be getting you mixed up with somebody else, you know. It happens. Tradition in Milwaukee.”
“Those elves called me Schultz, we know anybody by that name?”
“Sure narrows it down, don’t it?”
—
Michele “Kelly” Stecchino,an old-time Third Ward hardhead dating back to the Vito Guardalabene era, turned anarchist in his retirement years and highly regarded locally these days as a bombsmith, occupies an oversize Polish flat, reached via a pathway lined with Chicago Hardy fig trees, scungilli shells, lawn statuary on assorted Italian themes, including Benito Mussolini. Stained glass windows a little more bloody and religious than commonly found in Milwaukee.
Cooking “soup,” the idea is to take dynamite sticks, break them into pieces and place in boiling water, and skim off the nitroglycerin that forms on the top. Serve at appropriate times and places. Singing “treb-bi, la zup-pa” to the tune of “Vesti la giubba,” fussing at the stove, Kelly even has one of those tall chef’s hats that he likes to wear while he’s working, in the belief it will keep him safe from unexpected explosions. “Ba-ccia, galup-pa…”
Hicks contributes a few contrapuntal bars of “Dinah, is there anythingfiner,” which is what you might sing if you want to kid a box-blower, though the practice is generally not recommended.
Kelly directs a glance you could call discouraging. “Ten Our Fathers, ten Hail Marys, and a good Act of Contrition. Fumes are givin me a headache here, reach me that Alka-Seltzer bottle, could you, and was there anything else today,” slowly rocking the hand he doesn’t shoot with, meaning please don’t waste his time.
“What’d I do now?”
“You’re not supposed to know this address.”
“I wouldn’t risk offending you today if it wasn’t serious.”
“Downtown bomb squad’s already been by, case you were wondering. Italophobic, you people, ain’tchyiz?”
They exchange a look. Hicks tries to be nonchalant. “Usual MPD bomb equals Italian malarkey.”
“In the business, we understand that an explosion, not always but sometimes, is actually somebody with something to say. Like, a voice, with a message we aren’t receiving so much as overhearing.”
“This pair of elves who delivered it might’ve thought I was somebody else.”
“Even if it wasn’t meant for you personally that don’t mean you ain’t in some trouble, which if you’re not too big of aminghiunyou can see how much you’re in right now?”
Well, here it is again, sure took his time about it.
“You know who’s pickin up her IOUs, Hicksie. You’ve had a look at the rundown on his career, maybe you’re overdue for a vacation, and I don’t mean no weekend down to Edgewater Beach.”
“Quit fooling.” Somehow Hicks knows where he’s talking about.
“Give it some thought, it’s paradise over there, of course anything after Milwaukee would be—we get you plenty-a nice discounts—dames, coke fa you nose, bowlin alley, whatever you American boys go for, make you feel right at home.”
“It’s a Fascist dictatorship,Professore.”
“Don’t tell them around Palermo. What makes you private dicks any different?”
“Oh, swell, P.I.s are Fascists now?”
“Study your history,gabadost, you started off, mosta yiz, breakin up strikes, didn’t ya, same as Mussolini’s boys.”
“That don’t…” then stopping to think about it.
