Seamless

A Day at the Races

Conrad Diehl strolls through the main concourse of the Arlington Race Track, located in a suburb just northwest of Chicago. He waves and smiles at familiar faces as he makes his way to the outside grandstand. He surfaces at the grandstand lower level, which is filling up with patrons for the start of the early races. To his left, two year old fillies carry jockies clad in bright colors around the track at a prancing gait. In a few minutes they will be led into the paddocks for the start of the first race. As he strolls along the rail of the lower grandstand, he looks a few rows up to his right, and see's a group of expensively dressed young people, laughing,snuggling and drinking champagne from paper cups. He smiles and waves. One of the snappily dressed young men waves him to come over. He laughs, shakes his head regrettably, and points his finger ahead of him, signalling he is meeting someone. He starts going up the rows, through the crowds spilling down as he continues to move completely across the grandstand. He finally reaches the last section, near the top, where he is met by two husky men wearing sportcoats on this warm summer day.
"Hiya Connie," one of the men smiles.
"Hey Johnny, Wild Bill, how you guys doin'?"
The shorter of the two, wearing a full beard , looks over to the center of the empty section, to a heavyset older man sitting alone. The man nods at the two men. The one called Johnny pats Connie on the back and say's, "go ahead Con, good to see you, the old man always brightens up when your'e around.
" Connie say's, "Thanks John, I love the guy."
He then turns to the one called Wild Bill and say's, "how's your mom Billy, any better?"
The husky, balding man shrugs and says, "some days, some days not, she's at Wiess Memorial, I'm going over after here.
Connie say's, I'll give you my number, you can call me if she needs anything."
He starts to dig for a pen and paper but Wild Bill waves him off saying, "Thanks Con, I love you for that, but Guy's done everything anybody can do, she's inna private room, got nurses around the clock. He been giving me a lotta time off to go see her, but I'll get in touch and let you know if I can think of anything else, thanks man."
"Ok man," Connie says, as he squeezes the big man's arm, I'll do anything I can." The big bearded man tears up and say's "Thanks Con, I know that, and I love you for it." Connie makes his way over to the man in the middle of the section.

"Hey Guy," he says. The big man, wearing a dark blue mexican guayabera shirt, a light brown straw panama hat and chewing on a macanudo cigar, is drinking from a paper cup he refills from a brown paper bag at his feet.
"Connie, you old queer, how the hell are ya?" he growls.
"Stayin' off the radar Guy," Connie say's, as he sits down next to him and hugs the big man around the shoulder with one arm.
"How's with you?" Guy takes the cigar out of his mouth with his right hand and playfully pinches Connie's cheek with his left.
"Another day above ground is another day you owe the light company." he muses as he puts the cigar back in the right side of his mouth.

The second race starts, the horses are out of their shoots and running. Connie points over to the other side of the grandstand,
"I saw the young don and his entourage over there.
" Guy pours a paper cup two thirds full of wine and hands it to Connie, then refills his own, "you mean the young dickhead and his crackhead buddies," Guy growls. "He's put me behind the eight ball with that psycho Vinnie Gennaro."
"Shit," said Connie, "I thought Vinnie calmed down after his brother Dom went for him in the parking lot of that resturant out south."
Guy snorted, "Iv'e known Dominick my whole life, he's never tried to hurt nobody, he's never been on the heavy side a nothin', if he went for that fool its because he left him no choice. The only reason Dom knows any'a these guys is because his father and the old man came up together. The old man helped old man Genarro get started in the bakery business and Dom and Paul built that business into what it is today. Vinnie comes along, he don't wantta be a baker, he wants to be a gangster, the old man, out of respect for his father, lets him make a few moves, now he's turned into this monster. He'd make the Pope load up and come lookin' for him. As for the big shot over there, He's been watchin' too many gangster movies. Thinks I work for Don Corleone or somthin'. I been beggin' him for four years, go back ta school, it ain't too late. He tells me, 'Pop, its good enough for you, it's what I want too.' He just don't know."
"He don't wanna know," says Connie.
"Right," Guy says, "he just don't wanna see the truth, wantsa' believe what he see's inna movies, all that family and godfather shit. I didn't have no chance a' go ta college, workin' since I was ten, then I hadda connect up in order ta stay onna street, thout getting robbed every time I turn around. Every time his mamma looks at me, I see it, like I wanted this for him."
Connie shakes his head and say's, "All he really knows is the people around you, he ain't really been exposed to a lotta these snakes out here."
"He has now," Guy snorts, "I cut him a deal, I give him a little book to run, over on Lake Street there. You know, them deli workers and the guards over the correctional center? Nothing over $20.00. He takes care'a that, we'll talk about somethin' bigger. If not, he goes back ta school. For six months, he's tellin' me everythings ok, cept' he ain't bringing no money in. Keeps tellin' me he's puttin' it back onna street. I been doin' this work for over fifty years and I know that ain't how it works, but I figure, he's fuckin' the money off, that's good, pretty soon I tell him it ain't workin' out, he's gotta go back to school. I send Scooter over to see what's goin' on. He comes back and tells me them deli's and them guards're bettin' with Vinnie's kid, Chris. Scooter tells me Chris gets wind'a him down there, brings a coupl'a his weightlifting buddies down there and run him off. He ain't been down there in months. Now he ain't told me squat. Now I got a problem if Vinnie's kid can take my kid off his book that easy. Next Vinnie'll start thinking about comin' for my business. He thinks I'm too old, protect my interests, he's itchin' for a street fight but he's afraid I'll reach out to Rusty and Mack out in Stone Park."

Guy waves to the two men standing at the outside aisle of the section. The one called Johnny, walks along the row over to where the two men are seated.
Guy takes the cigar from his mouth and growls to him, " keep everybody away for a few minutes, I'll let you know."
"Allright, Guy," the man responds, and walks back along the row, he confers with the other man and they turn, facing away from the pair, preparing to intercept intrusions.
Guy pours more wine into his cup, and say's, I'm gonna ask you, help me out on a few things Con."
Connie takes a sip from his own cup, looks down at the track. The second race finishes in a close win for the four horse who crosses the wire a nose ahead of the seven, The one horse shows about a half length behind the seven. Connie say's, "I'd go to the wall for you Guy, I hope you know that, Just tell me who and where." Guy snorts a small laugh,
"Naw Naw, toughguy, I'd never use you like that. That ain't your lin'a work. Anyway, this ain't about nothin' like that. It just seems like, with the big guy sick and all, not involved in too much these days, Vinnie's gettin' kinda squirrely. Them junkies he's got workin' for him are out, pushin' people around and makin' a lotta noise. That guy with the Chevy dealership over on Grand, they're shakin' him down. The guy's got about two hundred cars on the lot there. Those mooks'er goin' over, coupla' times a week, breakin' out all the windows on about four or five cars, ta get him ta pay em off. They're over ta Cheryl's place there, screwin' the girls and not payin' em, startin' fights, regular customers can't get inna place."
Connie said, "I heard they took that bookie, Sam Rosen for a ride, actin' like they were gonna hurt him, the guy almost had a heart attack."
Guy says, "If the old man was more active in the day to day stuff, he'd just call him in and tell him, knock it off. But he's been sick lately and don't wantta be bothered with this silly shit, thinks everybody should act like grownups."
"Well," Connie Asks, "Whaddaya think can be done?"
Guy takes the cigar from his mouth and spits, he puts it back and says, "Well, I ain't gonna move on him cause that would cause problems for the old man. He ain't that crazy bout Vin, but he loves Dom and Paul. Besides, that ain't the way ta go anyway. You take him out, ya gatta take out them hoodlums and junkies he's got workin' for him. It could get real messy, get people talkin', gettin' ideas. I'm thinkin' he's only got one more big fuck up, fore the old man washes his hands of the guy."
Connie says, "I don't know a whole lot about the guy."
Guy says, "thats the first thing, we gotta find out more about him. what he's up to and who he's up to it with. Get a line on that junkie mick, Mikey Ryan, he runs around with. I wantcha go see a guy, a cop with the the Illinois Crime Commission. They're big fans a him and his pals, been tryin' ta build a case against em. Says he'll share a little background information, long as nothin's planned. Go out to Oak Park, Angelinas's there, this Thursday. Meet him inna bar around eight. He's seen you aroun' me, knows who you are."
Connie nods his head, "sure Guy, I'll be there."


Dinner at Eight


Angelina's is a cozy, dimly lit little eatery, that appears to be part of an Italian landscape transported to stand alongside the one-hour muffler shops, video stores and giant mechandiser's that line the suburbs main streets. Plants and flowers everywhere, waiters and waitresses everywhere. It is said to be one of the few remaining Italian resturants that still import all their cooks and chefs from Italy. The music is soft and subdued, mandolins and violins. The resturant is all nooks and crannies. Wherever you sit you are out of view of the other patrons. The place is full but you can only tell by the parking lot. About ten minutes to eight, Connie pushes through the front door. He makes a right and heads to the bar. The bar is full of people waiting for tables. Before he can find an empty stool at the bar, he is waived over by a middle aged slim guy with thinning hair and two finished drinks in front of him. The man rises from the booth, walks a few steps and extends his hand. "Hiya Mr. Deihl, I'm Bobby Jarrett. We met once at old man Farace's funeral. His daughter is my wife, Eva.
A light goes on in Connie's head. Old man Farace was one of the old goons that fought the newspaper distribution wars back in the twenties and thirties, when the daily newspapers were fighting for turf to hawk their papers, much like drug dealers do today. The story goes that Farace was the main supplier of porn mags for all the other newstands through his contacts with Monk Levy, the guy in charge of vice for the Outfit back then.Connie relaxes with the recognition and shakes the man's hand.

They return to the booth and sit. A waitress comes by and Connie orders a Kettle One on ice. Bobby Jarrett asks for another Cuervo on ice with grapefruit juice on the side.Once the drinks are ordered the men settle into examining the menu. "Iv'e got a package for you", Bobby murmurs while perusing the entrees. He pushes a bulky yellow envelope across the table. "It'll give you the basic information about the guy. Then, we can meet again and I can fill in the gaps". Connie lays down his menu and say's "That's good because right now, I don't know what to ask". Bobby places his menu on top of Connie's and say's. "There's the arrest records of him and his partners but more important is the intel from the Special Investigations Unit. Theyv'e been on these guys for over two years. You'll find it interesting reading".

The two men place their orders. Connie has the veal with spaghetti and Bobby has rotini with two types of sausage. Before the food arrives, Bobby wants assurances that this information will not be used to harm Vinnie Gennaro in a way that will come back to him. he owes Guy a lot but can't afford to lose his career over this favor. Connie assures him there is no plan in the works and that the information is for protection from a dangerous guy that's becoming more and more unstable. He makes sure Bobby understands that he is not in the business of hurting people. That his relationship with Guy is as a friend and a business partner. He is not a part of Guy's crew. The food comes and they work through the meal talking about old man Farace and his rumored underworld ties. They share a bottle of Asti Spumante and select creme filled pastries from the roving pastry cart. Bobby gives Connie a number where he can be reached and and they agree to set up another meeting when Connie calls. Once back in his car Connie call Guy's cell. After the gruff voice answers Connie tells him he's got the package. Guy tells him just to read it, they'll figure out how to use it later.


Making New Friends

Leander Boddie, or "Bo", as he is called, is an old school ex con. He has spent a total of eleven years in various state institutions as a result of misplaced trust, bad calculations and an inability to see changes in the drug business. It's all he knows and given his rap sheet, he doesn't know it well. When he was caught this time it was for delivering a half pound of cocaine to an undercover DEA task force officer. He had another half pound in his car for a later delivery. There was $43,000 hidden at his mother's house on Washington avenue in Lawndale. Since he didn't live there, it was not searched. The case against him was such a slam dunk, he didn't bother about hiring a lawyer. His money remained in an old tacklebox in his mother's basement. He was released from Stateville Prison just two months ago, where he served three and a half years of a five year jolt for possession of sale weight narcotics with intent to deliver. While he was in the joint, he met many cons. It wasn't the periodic lockdown, gang ridden atmoshpere of Pontiac Correctional. These were all older cons, with wifes and families, who wanted their commisary, phone calls and yard privileges. He started doing what he knew best, getting inmates a little somthin' to take into their conjugal visits. A little weed and a little coke, all wrapped up and delivered in your hand before you depart to the guarded inner perimeter that contains the conjugal visit suites. It was the $120.00 fantasy that made every con in the joint think he could escape the madness and enjoy a few hours of normal personal interaction.

He was told by other locked up drug dealers that he needed to get out of Lawndale, the desolate poverty ridden neighborhood where he lived. There was no way to make good money with all those gangbangers and rival drug dealers all stacked up on top of each other. He was advised to move to the northside, where he could develop a wider clientele and better connections. Upon his release, he went straight to Juneway Terrace, the northernmost section of Chicago. A little enclave of high drug activity and section eight housing. Across the street from a public school stands the Jonquil Apts. A single room occupancy hotel inhabited by all races of unwed mothers, ex cons, hustlers and gangsters-in-training. Bo had never lived near white people. In his old neighborhood he was considered "country" (uncultured) and out of touch from doing so much prison time. On his floor, three doors down, was a big healthy white woman with big titties and wild red hair. She always wore very tight blue jeans and when they passed in the building she would smile and say hi. Bo's heart would race when he thought he heard her door open or close.

Her passport lists her name as Iona Mears, birthplace, Dunmurry Ireland, just south of Belfast. Her American driver's license and social security card names her as Colleen Duffy. She is well known as a solid waitress with a sense of humor that puts patrons at ease throughout the wide network of Irish pubs and bars in the city.
She is well connected with all the owners and never lacks for a job. She is also on Interpol's watchlist as well as having been the target of FBI surveillance during the late 80's and early 90's. From 1986 to 1991 she made fourteen trips to Ireland during the IRA's reign of terror. She has noticed the older black guy on her floor and determined from his out-of-date clothes that he is just released from prison. He dresses like a 70's pimp and doesn't seem to know anyone in the neighborhood.He doesn't seem to have a job as he's always either in his room or out in front of the building hanging around. He can't keep his eyes off her titties. That's good, maybe he'll want to get friendly and tell her why he doesn't have to work. Everybody hustles in this neighborhood. An old guy alone, in a checkered bell bottom suit, just killing time, stands out among these predators. She decides to play with him a little.
These old black guys lose their minds when they see her big bouncing melons.
If he's got anything, her cousins Mickey and Danny will get it out of him.

The Book on Vinnie

Connie takes a break from the files on his desk, mixes a drink and stares down at Sheridan Road from his northshore apartment. He carries a lot of juice in this town and that's entirely thanks to Guy. By all rights, after that Rosemont Racetrack fiasco, which he was involved in up to his neck, he should be dead. His then partner, a sleazy lawyer representing the Emerald Casino Corp., the company applying for the operating license, left a paper trail a blind man could follow straight to Waste Management Inc.,one of the mobbed up silent partners to the deal. The Illinois Gaming Board issued a formal notice of denial concluding that Waste Management, among others, provided false and misleading information in their petition. The lawyer was whacked and a lot of people wanted Connie whacked too. Guy stepped in and gave him cover. People grumbled, they still do, but as long as Guy has power, he is rock solid.
It's true Guy is no longer acting boss, but he's still in the top tier of the organization.
Unlike New York with all their families, in Chicago there is only the outfit. The original outfit descended from Big Jim Colosemo to Torrio, to Torrio - Capone. Everybody that wants to play, plays by outfit rules. Anyone who breaks the rules or fails in their commitments is either killed or framed.
The Illinois Crime Commission has Vinnie as a bookmaker and loanshark. They suspect he's been bankrolling a dangerous dope dealer named Mickey Ryan. Ryan runs a hard core crew of killers and robbers with ties to the Irish hard guys and gamblers around town. They also run drugs between Chicago, East St. Louis, Indianapolis and Gary Indiana. The surveillance indicates they don't push drugs in Chicago, but raise hell here. They appear to be making small moves for Vinnie in certain areas but steer clear of the mainstream crews. CPD Intelligence suggests that until recently, Vinne has only used a couple of guys for muscle on his loanshark customers. It now appears he has bought himself a crew.