King of the Bootleggers Read online

  "Victims were Roman Provenzano and Genesio Marino, sir," Inspector Hall of the Gore Park Station said without any preamble.

  Wherley and the other two Inspectors exchanged glances.

  Hall continued, "Both men were shot by a 303–"

  "That's a rifle cartridge," Wherley interjected.

  "Yes, sir. Provenzano was shot between the eyes and in the heart. Marino was shot over the right eye and once in the side of the head."

  "Someone wanted to be sure," Wherley said.

  "Yes, sir." Hall turned and pointed across the street, "Witness accounts say it sounded like the shots came from the direction of those buildings. We're still searching, but so far we haven't found any evidence of a shooter. And no one inside the buildings reported seeing anyone suspicious."

  "You would think someone would see a person carrying a rifle over there," Moore said. "That's not easy to hide."

  Wherley nodded as he gave it some thought. Then the former Brigadier General ran his fingers along his handlebar mustache as he eyed the buildings further away. Is it possible someone...?

  "Any idea yet why the two dead men were here at the courthouse?" Crawley asked.

  Hall looked to his fellow Inspectors, half wondering why the two were even here with Wherley. "Yes. They were two of seven men brought before the court after a raid on the Paradise Club down in Cootes Paradise–"

  That caught Wherley's attention, "The Paradise Club?"

  "Yes, sir. It's notorious for prostitution and gambling–"

  "Who handled the raid?"

  "Commissioner Farrin Dowd of the Dominion Police Force." Hall shook his head, "I don't think Dowd believed any of the men would ever be convicted of anything." He lowered his voice, "Apparently, the entire place was smashed to pieces by Dowd and his men. His wife is a member of the local chapter of the Women's Christian Temperance Union and I think he was just–"

  "The fool," Wherley thundered, "he got these two men killed–" He reigned in his anger as the Mayor looked in his direction. "And he lost us the opportunity of talking with this Roman Provenzano in connection with two other very serious cases."

  "Any idea on the connection between the two dead men?" Moore asked Hall.

  Hall nodded, "Yes. Apparently, Genesio Marino worked for Provenzano."

  "So we lose two men who might have given us leads," Wherley fumed.

  Hall tapped his notebook, unsure of what else to say.

  "All right, Inspector Hall. As you get more information, please be sure I get a copy immediately," Wherley ordered.

  "Yes, sir." Hall turned and headed back to the bodies.

  Moore waited until Hall was out of earshot before turning to Crawley and Wherley, "I find it very strange that the two men we wanted to talk to, out of the seven, were killed."

  Crawley nodded, "I'll check on who the other men were, but I have the feeling this shooting is tied in somehow with all the other shootings that have occurred in our city."

  Chief Constable Denton Wherley placed his hands behind his back and grimaced, "I agree. Something very bad is going on, gentlemen. Something very bad."

  Inspector Moore saw Mayor Ambrose Killian turn and head in their direction. The heavy-set man had a scowl on his face. "Heads up," Moore said discretely, "here comes his worship."

  Wherly grumbled under his breath, "That's all we need."

  "Chief Constable Wherly, I'd like to have a word with you," Killian said sternly. "In private," he added as he looked at the other two.

  Crawley's face showed he could barely stand the mayor. He glanced at Wherly, "We'll keep digging, Chief."

  Moore gave the Chief Constable a quick nod of his head and joined Crawley in retreat.

  Killian waited a moment for the two to leave. Then he turned on Wherly, "When the Police Board hired you, we did so because of your background. We were told you were a fiery, shoot from the hip leader who got things done"–"

  "And your point is?"

  The mayor swept his hand towards the city councilors and the Chief Magistrate, "We all expected you to do great things for our community, to keep us safe. Instead...we've seen a major increase in some very – serious – crimes–"

  "And you feel that's my fault?"

  The mayor pressed on, sweeping a hand towards the two bodies, "And now we have this scene of two men gunned down in the very heart of our community."

  "Mayor Killian–"

  "Do you have any idea the damage this will do to our reputation as one of the top cities in the country? What business is going to want to set up shop here if–"

  "I assure you, I'm doing everything I can–"

  "Are you? It looks to me like the criminals are winning, Chief Constable. And if that's the case, then the city councilors and the police board have made a serious mistake. A very serious mistake." He wagged his finger at Wherly, "A mistake we plan to rectify unless you can prove otherwise. And you better prove us wrong very soon."

  Wherly felt like strangling someone as he watched the Mayor of Hamilton stomp away in righteous indignation, all an orchestrated show for the gathered press and citizens.

  Chapter 37

  ROCCO DROVE A NEW CAR picked up just for the trip to Toronto. There was no way of telling if someone would be lying in wait, watching for the old one. Rocco also warned Cipriano that the friend he was bringing with him was a member of the Hamilton Constabulary and that a letter about the trip was being left with a friend. The letter would be sent to the Chief of Police if Constable Antonio Genovese didn't return. It didn't seem to faze Cipriano. Both Rocco and Tony found the drive along Lakeshore Road bleak as a winter storm obscured the view ahead from time to time. But Besha and Maria talked excitedly in the back seat as they watched the passing terrain and shoreline. Cipriano's directions into Toronto turned out to be easy to follow and they pulled up in front of the King Edward Hotel by mid-afternoon.

  Rocco and Tony were both on full alert as they entered the front doors.

  The two women were oblivious to the danger and they continued chatting in excitement.

  "So how do we find Cipriano?" Tony asked. His eyes were sweeping the lobby, looking for any possible trouble.

  "He said to talk to the people at the front desk," Rocco answered as his gaze swept the lobby as well.

  Besha and Maria were looking at the lobby area as well but we're discussing the decor and furnishings.

  There were two young women working behind the front lobby desk and one perked up as Rocco approached, " Yes, sir, do you have a reservation?"

  Rocco shook his head no, "I'm supposed to meet someone here. Mr. Victor Cipriano...?"

  "Oh, yes sir. Mr. Cipriano said he would have guests arriving. Your name, sir?"

  "Rocco DeLuca."

  She looked at something in front of her and nodded, "Yes, Mr. DeLuca, your room is ready–"

  "I don't have a room," Rocco said. "How do I get hold of Victor Cipriano?"

  The young woman looked confused as she looked back down, "But it says here–"

  "I don't care what it says there. Are you going to tell me how to find Cipriano or not?"

  The young woman looked flustered and she looked to the woman on her right, "Helen, would you call up to Mr. Cipriano in Room 100 and tell him his guests have arrived, please."

  Helen smiled as she turned and picked up a telephone.

  Rocco turned and looked at Tony as he shook his head, "Unbelievable."

  Tony half-smiled as his eyes continued to search their surroundings for any hidden signs of trouble.

  "Mr. DeLuca?"

  Rocco turned to look back at the woman behind the desk, "Mr. Cipriano said he will be right down." She gestured to the plush seats placed around the lobby, "You're welcome to have a seat while you wait."

  Rocco felt put out while the two women were more than happy to test out the fine furniture. Both men slid their hands into their coat pockets, both of them gripping a Colt semiautomatic pistol, ready for anything.

  "This is pretty
soft on my ass," Tony said as he took a seat in a big chair beside Rocco.

  "As long as it doesn't turn your brain soft," Rocco complained as he warily watched two men enter through the front doors.

  "As long as it doesn't make my dick soft," Tony said as he kept his eyes on the two men as well.

  "Too late, from what Maria says."

  The two men unbuttoned their long wool coats as the door closed against the storm outside.

  "Very funny."

  The two men held their coats open and flapped them vigorously, the snow flying in all directions.

  Two women opened the hotel door and ran through, joining the men, laughing and brushing the snow from their hair and coats.

  Rocco and Tony relaxed a bit–

  "Mr. DeLuca?"

  Both Rocco and Tony had their pistols halfway out as they turned to look in the direction of the male voice.

  A tall, thin man with thinning black hair and wearing a black, pinstriped suit stood a few feet away. The fingers of both hands were slipped into the side pockets of his suit jacket, the palms flat against his body. "I'm Victor Cipriano." He slowly slipped his hands out and extended the right, "Thank you for coming."

  Rocco and Tony stood, the two women doing the same.

  When Rocco didn't shake hands or step forward, Cipriano lowered his hand and then indicated a woman just behind him and to the side, "This my wife, Noella."

  A woman in a black outfit, including a fancy, wide-brimmed hat, leaned out, smiled and waved before she stepped around and held her hand out to Rocco, "It's very nice to meet you."

  Rocco kept his eyes on Cipriano and ignored the woman's extended hand.

  It didn't seem to faze Noella and she simply turned to Tony and shook his hand before moving over to Besha and Maria, exchanging greetings with them.

  Cipriano stayed perfectly still, a half-smile still on his face as he patiently watched his wife go through her social rituals

  Noella Cipriano turned to her husband as she stood beside the women, "Perhaps it would be a good idea if we went into the dining room, dear. I'm ready to eat and it gives us enough time before our outing later."

  "Our outing?" Besha asked. She glanced at Rocco.

  "Yes. I thought it would be good if we did a little shopping while the men attended the hockey game."

  Tony's ears perked up, "Hockey game?"

  Victor Cipriano nodded as he slipped his fingers into his side pockets again, "A National Hockey Association game is on tonight."

  "The Toronto Shamrocks? They won the Championship Cup in '18." He looked at the women, "But they're still the champions. The league canceled the '19 series when that flu epidemic hit. Most of the Montreal team got sick and their defenceman Joey Hall died."

  "A lot of people died then," Maria shuddered.

  "I don't like the idea of leaving the girls alone," Rocco interjected firmly.

  "I think we'll be okay," Maria said. She looked at Mrs. Cipriano, "I'd love to go shopping."

  Besha looked at Rocco and then glanced at Victor Cipriano. She understood Rocco's concern fully. "I think it would be nice to see a professional hockey game. I know Rocco and Tony are big fans and I'd like to see what the fuss is all about."

  Maria pouted but soon was engaged in choosing the wine and the amazing desserts offered after dinner.

  THE GROUP HAD SEATS front and center for the hockey game at the Mutual Street Arena for the game between the Shamrocks and the Quebec Voyageurs. After the game the group stood in the arena lobby, putting their coats on before braving the weather outside. Fans were passing them in a hurry to get home.

  "I can't believe it," Tony said excitedly as he helped Maria on with her coat, "Quebec wins 10-6 and freakin' Johnny Malone scores 7 goals. Me and Rocco read about him in the papers but he's better than I ever thought."

  "You're welcome to come back and take in a game anytime," Cipriano said, "at my expense. Now, I've taken the initiative to have rooms booked for you at the King Eddy, at my expense again–"

  "That's real nice," Rocco interjected, "but I haven't heard one word about why we're really here." He glanced at Cipriano's wife, "Now, if you'd like to ask the missus to take a short walk, perhaps you'd be willing to tell me why we shouldn't just go home?"

  Cipriano looked at his wife, "Perhaps you could take the other ladies–?"

  "I'm not going anywhere," Besha said firmly.

  "Me neither," Maria said and she crossed her arms.

  Tony smirked.

  Victor Cipriano pursed his lips for a moment, "Very well. Mr. Greenshields will no longer be sending his product to Buffalo. That allows everyone to return to business–"

  "He's not sending product to Buffalo. He's only trying because I have 1200 cases of his whiskey sitting in storage in Hamilton," Rocco said with an edge in his voice. "And I'm looking for more space to put more of his whiskey because I'll be sending men up the St. Lawrence to take or destroy every friggin' case he tries to send across the border."

  Cipriano stood silent.

  Rocco took a step closer to Cipriano, "And I'm about to send men to watch for any product that he tries to send into Ontario as well. Not one drop will get through."

  Cipriano looked into Rocco's eyes for a moment and then said in a low voice, "Starting a war–"

  "It was Greenshields who started a war when he sent men to try and kill me when I was taking a load to Buffalo."

  Cipriano pursed his lips, "What do you want?"

  A passing fan bumped into Rocco as he passed. Rocco half-turned, his eyes blazing–

  "Sorry friend," the man said as he stepped back apologetically and skirted Rocco.

  Rocco turned back to Cipriano, the heat in his eyes just going down a notch, "You tell me. You invited us here. Did you think I'd just roll over and take it up the ass?"

  Cipriano looked Rocco in the eye without blinking.

  "I noticed there were penalties in the game tonight for bad play," Besha said.

  Cipriano and Rocco continued to lock eyes.

  Tony and Maria exchanged glances, wondering where Besha was going with this.

  "As a penalty against you, Mr. Cipriano, you buy all 1200 cases of whiskey at $100 dollars per case," she added firmly. "You can even have your friend Mr. Greenshields...who started it...pay half...or not...."

  Cipriano kept his eyes on Rocco for a moment and then turned his head to Besha, "Your wife drives a hard bargain, Mr. DeLuca." He looked back at Rocco, "Done."

  "Cash," Besha said.

  A smile played on Cipriano's lips, "Cash it is."

  "And Rocco wants the team," Besha added.

  Cipriano blinked and turned his head, his confusion showing, "Pardon?"

  Rocco, Tony, and Maria looked just as confused.

  "The Quebec Voyageurs," Besha said. "Your wife mentioned that Mr. Greenshields worked with the league and financed the front-man to resurrect his beloved Voyageurs franchise and get it away from someone the league didn't like. Tony said a similar situation happened with the Toronto team. I imagine Greenshields has plenty of money to pay his part of the penalty, so let's play with something he dearly loves. He arranges to have the team transferred to Rocco...at no cost...as a token of good faith."

  Cipriano continued to look at Besha for a moment, "Owning a team in Quebec City...."

  "Oh, no. We'll move the team to Hamilton. That way Rocco and Tony don't have to come back here to see a game."

  Cipriano slowly looked back at Rocco.

  Rocco winked.

  Maria giggled at Tony's goofy grin.

  Chapter 38

  "SO...WHERE THE HELL DO WE PUT A HOCKEY TEAM?" Rocco asked as the speeding train rocked him to the left.

  Maria put her hands to her face and giggled, turning her head to look at Besha, "I still can't believe you did that."

  Besha just tilted her head and gave an exaggerated shrug.

  "Or that you walked away with $1,200,000 in your pocket," Tony said.

  "We haven't got
it yet," Rocco pointed out.

  The train rocked them back and forth as the 4-4-0 American-class steam-locomotive followed the long, curving shore of Lake Ontario to the left. The winter storm had increased overnight and Rocco got the directions from the front desk to Union Station. They took the Hamilton Express and left the car behind. Rocco would send someone back for it. They now sat in seats in the first of the six passenger cars, the men facing the women as they headed home. The clack-clack-clack of the steel wheels over the train tracks was almost soothing after a long, sleepless night, wondering if someone was still going to come into their rooms, guns blazing away.

  Tony looked at Rocco with a serious expression on his face, "You think Cipriano would renege on the deal?"

  Rocco shrugged, "I have no idea. I don't know the man."

  "I'm pretty sure he'll make Greenshields pay the whole bill," Besha said. "That's what I would do since he started the whole mess."

  "Yeah, but not everyone has your business sense," Maria said.

  "It's not business sense, it's common sense," Besha pointed out. She looked across at Rocco, her eyes going hard and flinty, "No one tries to kill my Rocco."

  Rocco returned a wink and a warm smile.

  Everyone went quiet for a while, watching the passing scenery between the brutal gusts of snow. The howling wind pushed large pieces of ice onto the shore, each succeeding slab climbing on top of the one before it, a series of angled fingers building and pointing over the tops of the bare trees.

  Besha's head was gently rocking back and forth as she looked out the large side window, "What's that place like out in Cootes Paradise?"

  Rocco had his head back, eyes closed, "What place? You mean Fat Sal's old shack?"

  "No, the other one. The one that Tony had that federal agent raid."

  Rocco opened one eye and looked across at Besha, "You mean the gambling place?"

  "Yeah."

  Tony lifted his head, "It's called the Paradise Club. And it's anything but. It's a two-story claptrap of old boards and not much else."