Gangster's Moll Ch. 02


"Can you?"

He looked her in the eye, the smile never left his face.

"Darling, you of all people should know that I can get anything in and out of the country. All I have to do is make some calls and I can get you those pills every week... but."

She could sense the 'but' coming. It was too easy.

"But what?"

"I want you to earn these. Do a few errands for me. I'll be nice, just one a week."

"So now not only am I your moll, but your henchman too?"

"Don't be silly. Henchmen bust noses and break bones, you have better things to do."

She waited as he thought it over in his mind.

"Let's start with a simple test. There is this mid-level Cuban bookie in Harlem, Pedro Acosta. He has been trying to encroach on my turf by setting up his own protection racket. Take care of him and you will have a week's worth of pills the next time we meet."

"I am not your fucking personal hitman."

He sidled up to her and softly whispered into her ear.

"Make it look like an accident, something I would do. The last thing I want is a rumour of using cops to do my dirty work."

Still fuming, Monica got dressed and left the suite. Brett heard the door slam loudly.


The early morning patrol shift was always the worst, but someone had to do it. An enthusiastic rookie followed on the heels of his more experienced partner as they walked past 110th. The older cop was giving some pointers on how to do a first analysis of a crime scene before the detectives and forensics arrived.

"See kid, if you reach a crime scene first, you have to get a feel for what happened immediately. That is key. You have to let the scene speak to you."

They walked on, carefully observing their surroundings. The sun was just rising. Some early morning joggers ran past them in their tracksuits. Suddenly, the younger guy grabbed his partner and pointed towards the alley. They saw a Hispanic man lying against the dumpster, two neatly formed gunshot wounds on his chest. The younger guy called it in. They began to secure the perimeter of the scene.

"So tell me kid. What does the crime scene say?"

An empty wallet lay beside the body. After observing the scene for a while, he came up with his theory.

"I would say mugging gone wrong. His wallet was empty. The robber panicked and fired two rounds."

The older guy looked at him with a look of mild amusement.

"Under normal circumstances I would have been impressed, but not this time. Did you check his driver's license?"

"Yeah. His name is Pedro Acosta."

"Right. Pedro here ran a medium scale protection racket around these parts. This probably has more to do with that."

"Well, rookie mistake. So what do we do now?"

"This was done by a pro and made to look like a mugging. If you want my opinion, there is no way we could trace it back to anybody. Besides, he probably got what he deserved."

"Who do you think did it?"

"Who pulled the trigger? No idea, but I have a feeling it was ordered from very high up. Rumour is, he was trying to move into someone else's territory."


The older guy lowered his voice. The name he was about to say was the real world equivalent of Voldemort.

"These parts are run by several small to medium scale racketeers who swear by Brett Cameron. I'm guessing one of them asked Brett to get rid of his problem."

"THE Brett Cameron?"

"The one and only. It would be best for all of us if we just let this slide, chalk it up as a mugging. When the detectives get here, tell them that's what you think. They'll buy it, it means less paperwork."

The younger guy nodded.

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