Wheres Jimmy

"What the hell are you saying?"

"Boss, it was him!"

The man behind the desk blew perfect rings of cigar smoke. "You been drinking? You high again? Don't think I won't make you piss in a cup."

"It's the truth!"

The man glared at his younger associate. "Everyone knows he's fucking dead, Joey! A friend of ours did federal time with a guy who knew a guy who said he was there when they popped him."

"Uncle Frank, they did a shitty job, because he didn't stay dead. That was Jimmy Hoffa."

"Impossible. He'd be ancient."

"Looked like it. He was in one of them motorized wheelchairs propped up with a pillow, kinda like maybe he had a stroke or something. I swear it's him. I seen him clear with my binoculars. Look at that photo on the wall behind you. Add forty years, and it's him."

"You saw him at the drop point?"

"He made the fuckin' drop himself! Morelli's boys was waiting where my guy said. This high-top van drove up with a ramp thing on the back. Hoffa rolled out and went over to Morelli's crew with a briefcase on his lap. His face was lit up pretty good when he drove out of the van and on the whole ride back to it."

"Huh," Frank grunted.

"Yeah. That's why I'm sure it was him. None of Morelli's guys acted surprised, like maybe they expected an old guy. Maybe they even knew who he was."

"That makes no damn sense, Joey. What was in the case?"

"Looked like documents, reports with covers or some such shit. Couldn't see real clear 'cuz Hoffa was facing away from me. All I know is Morellli's one guy opened the case and flipped through it. He showed Hoffa another case that looked like it was stuffed with bundled cash, a shitload of it. That's what he took with him to the van. He rode in the back. Limo tint on the windows. Couldn't see who was with him."

"If that was Hoffa, is he working for the Parnelli brothers?" Frank asked.

"Nah. I hear they're pissed off because their deal got blown. Word on the street is they were supposed to be doin' the sale for someone else."

"So whoever Hoffa works for cut them out and contacted Morelli," Frank mused.

"Assuming Hoffa ain't self-employed, yeah. My source called me and told me the drop would be early. You know where I had to hide, boss. I can find Morelli's boys, so I tried going after Hoffa. By the time I got to my car, the van was gone. It was him, dammit. Sorry I lost him, Frank."

"It was a surveillance mission, so I forgive you this time."

"Boss, I swear on my grandmother's eyes it was Hoffa. I bet if we had one of them face-aging programs like the cops use, we could turn that pic into the guy in the wheelchair."

Frank took the framed image down to study it. "I don't understand. I don't understand how he can be alive, and I sure as hell don't understand why he's here, screwing the Parnellis on a deal. I hate not knowing what the fuck is going on. Ignorance is weakness."

"Whadya want me to do, boss?"

"I know someone who might be able to learn things about the Parnellis, so don't worry about them now. Work the streets. Take a couple guys."

"Uncle Frank, what am I supposed to look for?"

"That's what's fucked up. We know Morelli sold some real estate for cash last week, but that's it. Hell, we don't know what he bought. We don't know what the Parnellis were selling. We don't know why Hoffa's involved. We don't know shit, and that worries me." He opened the safe behind him. "Dig deep with your sources. Spread some cash around or break some ribs if you have to. But be careful. I don't want that fat bastard Morelli knowing I'm curious. For now we're better off if people think we know even less than we do. I don't want trouble."

"Okay."

"I expect you to call with news by morning."

"Got it, boss."

"And pull your fuckin' pants up. Buy some clothes that fit. Try and look respectable for a change. You're a made man now, not some street punk."

*******

Frank studied the old black-and-white photograph of his grandfather shaking Jimmy Hoffa's hand. He remembered being there that day forty or so years ago, a boy almost too old to be playing in the sandbox with his little cousins. That was about a year before Hoffa vanished. Even if he didn't get whacked, even if he pulled off the best disappearing act ever, he should have died of old age by now, shouldn't he?

The problem was the kid was so sure. Joey wasn't the best earner in the family, but he was smart and had an uncanny eye for faces. He loved playing boy detective, and he was never wrong when he was actually serious about something. Frank pushed a button on his desk phone.

"Yes, Frank?"

"Do you have a bag packed?"

"Essentials for three days."

"Good girl, Carlotta. Pull up all you can on Guido Morelli - extended family, old friends, school, whatever you can find that you didn't know before. Tell Angelo to clean and gas up my personal car and bring it to the front in two hours. You and me are going on a road trip. You can read to me while I drive. We'll stop along the way for stuff for me and for whatever you want."

"Where are we going?"

"Detroit. Get us a room for tonight. Tell them we'll stay a few days."

"What are we going to do when we get there?"

"Check on an old acquaintance's health."

*******

When they were on the road, Frank asked, "What did you find out?"

"It looks like Guido Morelli went to school for a while with Russell Buffalino."

"Name's familiar. Who's he?"

"He was on the FBI list of suspects in the Jimmy Hoffa disappearance. Buffalino was a Teamsters boss from Pennsylvania who might have been at the house where Hoffa was supposed to have been killed."

"No shit?"

"Frank, no one ever said Buffalino was there for sure, and he died in 1994."

"Okay, so he's no good to us. You know, even though it's the popular theory, no one said Hoffa was killed there for sure either. Joey saw him last night."

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. "Jimmy Hoffa, the Teamsters boss who's buried under Giants Stadium?"

"That's one rumor. Another is they ran him through a wood chipper. Some say they put him in a junk car they crushed and sent to Japan with a load of scrap metal. But what if he's alive?"

"Frank, it says here Jimmy Hoffa was declared legally dead twenty-five years ago."

"The courts have been wrong before, babe."

"Why are we driving to Detroit?"

"Jimmy Hoffa's last known whereabouts."

She played with her tablet for a minute. "This happened in 1975. There was a man named Chuckie O'Brien. His car was the last place anyone saw Hoffa, sitting in the back seat. Dogs found his scent there and in the trunk, and they matched a hair from the car to Hoffa's hairbrush in 2001."

"All of which proves shit. He could have been in the trunk dead that day, or he could have thrown his jacket in there a month earlier. Hoffa took O'Brien in when the kid's old man got killed. They were family. I'm sure they rode in each other's cars more than once."

"You don't think Hoffa's dead, do you Frank?"

"Joey sure as hell doesn't."

"I know he's your nephew, but are you sure you trust him?"

"He's a made man, Carlotta."

"You talk about how he frustrates you."

"He's my big sister's only kid. When they sent his dad upstate I said I'd watch over the boy, and I do. He's a fuck-off, but he ain't stupid. If he said he saw Hoffa, he saw probably Hoffa."

She played with her screen. "He'll be a hundred and two on Valentine's Day."

"That won't get him in the Guinness book."

"No, but it's remarkable."

"More like impossible, or at least that's what I thought when Joey first said it. That's why I want to try to find out if he's really dead."

"Why does it matter?" she asked.

"Jimmy Hoffa pissed a lot of people off. He had to go. Friends of ours were involved. If he ain't dead, it changes a lot of shit. Some important people lied or were lied to. Depending on what was in the attache case he sold Morelli, some old secrets could get exposed. People could go to jail. People could get whacked. Morelli's boys handed over a lot of money. They didn't react to some old geezer making the drop. If those papers have anything to do with the union or the feds or the family back then, they could do a lot of damage in the wrong hands."

"What if it wasn't Hoffa? What if it was a disguise like in the movies?"

He considered this idea in silence for a mile. "Morelli either thinks it's Hoffa or is in on the whole disguise thing. But why? Who would the guy disguised as Hoffa be hiding from? His guys in the van? And why the fuck would he try to look like a man who's supposed to be dead?"

"How much info did Joey give you on the van, Frank?"

"Not enough. Call him and see if he learned anything new. Friends of ours own a nice mall about an hour ahead. Help me pick out a suit. You can get yourself some pretty things while I buy shit for me. Call the hotel and tell them we're checking in late."

*******

It was almost midnight when they got to the Crowne Plaza desk. "I have a reservation for late arrival. Salvatore."

The older man behind the counter checked his screen. "Yes, sir. I have a suite for you, but there's only a single king-sized bed."

"Fine."

"Your daughter, sir?"

Frank stiffened. "I ain't that damn old, you senile piece of shit! Get on the damn phone. Tell your boss to get his ass here now. Even if she was my daughter, it's none of your fuckin' business, and it sure as hell ain't the motherfuckin' hotel's business."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"So am I, Pops. You look like you need this job, but you just lost it."

"Honey, stop!" Carlotta said. "There's no need to get all worked up. I consider it a compliment that this mature gentleman thinks I look so young."

"A compliment?" Frank snarled.

"Yes, and if you weren't so tired from driving all those hours you'd see it that way too."

Frank's face softened. He pulled his money clip from his pocket and laid a pair of hundred dollar bills on the counter in front of the old man. "No hard feelings, right, Pops? Now, could you call someone to get our bags?"

Settled in their suite, the couple prepared for bed. Carlotta came out of the bathroom in a filmy black negligee to find Frank in pajamas, propped up on pillows in bed, talking on his phone. She made sure he saw her before she snuggled under the covers next to him.

He fondled her breast but continued his call. "So the van was stolen and torched, huh? Big shock. That's a dead end."

Carlotta kissed Frank's neck and stroked him through his pajamas.

"Uh, look, Joey, something just came up. Call me before lunch." He put his phone on the nightstand and grabbed her. "I haven't fucked you in a week."

"My pussy needs attention, Daddy."

"You want to play that game tonight, baby girl?"

"I can put my hair in pigtails, but I didn't bring my schoolgirl clothes."

"Clothes come off anyway." He untied the ribbons holding her top together and removed it to play with her firm, full breasts. "When I want to pull your hair, I don't need pigtails."

"I like it when Daddy pulls my hair," she said. She eased his pajama pants down and inhaled his cock, gagging on it a little until she forced her throat to relax for him. When she came up for air, she broke the slimy strings of spit connecting them with her hand and used the lubrication to stroke him. "You drove all day, Daddy. You bought me pretty things. Let me help you relax first. Then we'll see what happens."

He lay back and let himself enjoy her. Carlotta wasn't young enough to be his daughter, but she looked much younger than her thirty years. She was the perfect legitimate business associate and off-hours mistress, mature enough to dress up for court appearances and important dinners, young-looking enough every man ogled her at the beach, and as Sicilian as any girl he ever met. Her skill levels in the office and bedroom were equally high.

Carlotta's one hand was deep in her translucent panties when she swallowed his sperm. When she finished licking him hard again, he grabbed her hand and sucked her flavor from her fingers.

"Please make me cum, Daddy."

*******

The next morning a knock on the suite door woke them.

"Shit," Frank hissed, moving silently across the room with his weapon in his hand.

Carlotta tossed him his pajama pants and covered the door with her own little gun from her purse. She held his pajama top against herself in a vain attempt to hide her nudity.

The person knocked again. "Room service. Complimentary breakfast. You checked the box for eight o'clock, sir."

Frank put his gun under a shirt in his suitcase when he saw Carlotta conceal hers under the dressing gown she hurriedly put on, the business end of her little pink-gripped .380 pointing toward the voice in the hall. Frank unlocked the door, ready to kick it shut on an attacker. A pimply young man in a hotel uniform walked in pushing a cart with covered dishes and a coffee maker warming on battery power. He bowed slightly, plugged the unit in, and left.

"What a fuckin' way to wake up," Frank said. He locked the door and ran his hands through his sleep-rumpled hair. "I forgot we ordered breakfast." He lifted the covers on the plates. "This stuff will stay warm. Let's grab a quick shower."

The couple behaved in the bathroom and pushed the cart near the window to have breakfast in their towels.

"You got us a nice room, baby," he said. "Top floor. Great view. Good defensive position."

"You're so paranoid."

"Better paranoid than dead."

"Even with some of the shit you do, I feel safe with you, Frank."

"Good." He fed her a piece of bacon and watched her lick the grease from his fingers.

"Work or play after breakfast?" she asked.

"Play, but then we should work. We gotta find a ghost."

*******

Soon after they got in the car, Frank's phone rang. He handed it to Carlotta. "Talk to Joey."

"Joey, this is Carlotta."

"Lemme talk to Frank."

"He's driving."

"I don't care if he's droppin' a deuce. I need to talk to him now."

"I'll put you on speaker." She touched the icon.

"No, bitch, just give Frank the fuckin' phone!" Joey's voice bellowed through the interior of the car.

"Joey, Frank. Show some respect, ya little shit. You're my sister's kid, but that don't mean I can't squash you like a bug. Your old man would do it in a heartbeat if he heard you. You don't talk to a lady like that, you hear me, cocksucker?"

"Sorry, Uncle Frank."

"Not as sorry as you'll be if I hear you say shit like that again. Did you learn anything or not?"

"Cops found a floater and an electric wheelchair."

"What?"

"The head's gone."

"What the fuck are you sayin'?"

"A kid saw an electric wheelchair under some pilings at low tide. Beach patrol found a body a couple miles away. A friend sent me pics. It was an old guy. Looks like they used a saw to cut his head off. So far they haven't found it."

"So is it Hoffa or not?"

"Don't know yet, but there's more. Parnelli's meat packing plant had a fire this morning in the offices. They say it was an explosion. Carmine Parnelli died on the way to the hospital. His brother Sonny didn't make it outside."

"Holy shit!"

"Yeah. You think someone's covering their tracks, boss?"

"What's Morelli doing?"

"Sittin' right here."

"At the club?"

"In the office with me. He wants our help."

"With what?"

Another voice came on the line. "Frank? Guido. Where are you?"

"In the car. Why are you at my club?'

"Bad shit's happening, Frank. Watch your ass, and get back here. We need to talk, face to face, alone."

"Why would I want to talk to you?"

"Come to my house. You have my word you'll be safe, at least from me. When can I expect you?"

Frank veered around a corner to head back to the hotel. "Shit, Morelli, I gotta check out of the hotel and drive back. Probably eleven or twelve hours."

"Call me when you're close. We'll have espresso and cigars. I have something you should read."

"What the fuck is goin' on, Guido?"

"Even if I knew for sure, I wouldn't say it with your little nephew here. He's not as good as he thinks he is, you know. We saw him at the drop. I had a man on him the whole time. Don't bother sending Boy Wonder out of the room now, either. This ain't stuff we talk about on the phone."

"You're makin' me nervous."

"You should be. Now, I'm gonna leave and go about my business. I'd appreciate it if kindergarten cop didn't follow me. I'll answer any questions you have man to man, alone."

"You there, Joey?" Frank asked.

"Yeah boss?"

"Put a case of Johnny Walker Black in Mr. Morelli's car. You still like that stuff, don't you Guido?"

"Just like your old man did, Frank. You don't have to do this."

"A gesture, Guido. Token of good faith."

"We'll drink a toast to peace from the first bottle tonight."

Frank said, "Joey, find out everything you can about the fire and the floater. Guido, you got guys on that?"

"We're following every lead, and we'll work with the kid here. Look, Frank, we don't know if that was really our friend last night or not. Some of my guys agree with Joey. I'll have my man Paulo share the info we have so far. We'll take care of our end. Drive safe." The line went dead.

Frank and Carlotta quickly checked out of the hotel and headed for home.

"Should I be scared now?" she asked.

He pushed the accelerator a little harder. "Probably."

*******

It was long after dark when he had her make a call for him. "Guido? We're making good time. You're on speaker. Carlotta's with me. It's okay if she hears whatever you have to say. You have my word on that. We should be there in about two hours."

"I sent the wife and kids away for a while, but Paulo is here. Frank, I'm sure you have your father's gun with you, probably another piece too. Carlotta has her little purse cannon and God knows what else. Bring everything inside with you. We're armed."

"What, you want us to shoot each other?"

"No. We need the firepower. Everyone here has a weapon. You should too. I don't think the shit that happened so far is that last of it. Make sure you're not followed. Announce yourself at the gate on my driveway."

"What the fuck, Guido?"

"I'll open up so you can drive in, but stay in your car until I flash the porch light. See you soon."

When the call ended, Carlotta put her phone in her bag. "Frank, what's happening?"

"Get on your Nintendo or whatever the fuck that is and find a plane ticket. You're gonna visit your cousin Gina in Palermo. Do you have your passport with you?"

"Yes."

"Book the first plane to anywhere. Make the connections you need. Call your cousin and tell her you're coming."

"What about you?"

"They won't let me on an international flight, baby."

"I'm not going without you."

"It's a precaution, a vacation."

"I'll take a vacation with you any time, Frank, and I'll run from danger with you, but I won't leave you here. I may let you tie me up in bed, but don't dismiss me as a coward!"

He touched her knee. "We could be driving into some real bad shit."

"I know. But if I leave, you won't be able to protect me, and I can't be there for you. I'm in this for the long haul."

They stopped for fuel near Guido's house. "Call Morelli and tell him we'll be there in half an hour. Then call Joey and see if he has anything new," Frank said when he got out to fill the tank.

Carlotta made her calls. When they were back on the road, she said, "The floater had a piece of silicone rubber in his shirt, like from a mask."

"What do you mean?"

"Morelli says it might have been a professional full-head mask like they wear in movies."

"So, someone found some old guy, put a fancy mask on him, used him to make the drop, and then cut his head off, mask and all? That's pretty fucked up."

"Who would do such a thing, Frank? The Cubans?"

"Hell if I know. Did Morelli have any ideas?"