A New York Crime Story

By Kenneth Guthrie

Vinny is sick of being a gofer for his father's crew. There's no money in it and no respect. One day he decides to take matters into his own hands and with the help of his car fanatic friend Tommy and ex-gang member Louis, he attempts to score it big in a world of drugs, robberies and dangerous enemies and allies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lunatic Ink Publishing
• Release date: Jul 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005690250

Kenneth Guthrie

Kenneth Guthrie is a writer of sci-fi, fantasy and crime novels.Profile image credit: Vincent Gerbouin at Pexels.com

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

It was 6pm in Queens near Forest Park and Vinny was getting Pizza at Lou’s Pizzeria & Restaurant when the fight broke out. Usually at an establishment like Lou’s people had more sense, but today the atmosphere was particularly dark in both color and mood in the shop because the Queens College basketball team had just lost to the Manhattan Jaspers and the sentiment was on days like this that someone needed an ass kicking.

Not a single person at the booths around the side was looking towards the three black men in gray and red windbreakers with Queen’s College embossed across the back standing staunch on a shorter man of color wearing overalls with a satchel slung over his shoulder. No, it was only those in line at the counter that were paying the fight-to-be any heed and only because they were likely to find themselves a part of it if the violence spilled out their way.

Vinny leaned over the counter and slid Lou a $20.

Tell Lew-Ann in back that I’ll put that on the short guy.

Lou gave Vinny a shake of his head and hobbled out back to place the bet with the prep chef. The tubby old man might own the store, but he also was Queens most well regarded bookie and was known for his willingness to bet on anything, even if it meant that his own place was going to get ruffed up in the process.

Vinny watched the fight unfold. Copious use of the N-word, lots of close body contact, the short guy playing it smart and trying to talk his way out of what would come next.

They were just about to get into it when a cop strolled by the shop windows. Lou gave the cop a nod as he passed by. He could have given the man a wave and put the fight to rest, but that wasn’t who Lou was. A guy like Lou - a connected guy - didn’t willingly invite the long arm of the law into his place of business. You never quite knew what they might find if the trouble you wanted solved encouraged the cops to go poking around for something they could pin on you. Lou knew that; the cop knew that; Vinny more than anyone else knew exactly that with what he was here for.

New York’s finest passed the door and everyone counted in their head to 10. There was always a special warmth in the air before a fight. He wasn’t violent by nature and only performed acts of violence as it became necessary for business. Being smaller than most of his peer group growing up, he had learned how to scrap and take the offensive, but he was too smart to get himself involved in childish squabbles nowadays. A busted nose or a cut up cheek didn’t look good in front of the law and he did his best to keep up appearances around them these days.

The short black guy in overalls seemed like he was almost going to talk his way out of things when the door opened and another dark skinned gentleman stepped in. This one instantly took stock of the situation and walked up with his skinny chest popped way forward and an angry look in his eyes.

What’s this shit, Louis? Are these guys hassling you?

Of course, it’s often your closest allies that fuck you the most. Vinny hid a smirk and tried hard not to roll his eyes as the pipsqueak, who was in all honesty probably a boy pretending to be a man, came to Louis’ defense.

It was at that moment that the fight truly began.

First up, the biggest guy on the far left tried to grab the pipsqueak over the short black guy’s shoulder. A hard snapping left met his jaw and a look of surprise spread over his face. He stumbled back and his friends filled the void - pushing and shoving as they did - until he got his footing against the booth behind him and came forward to join the hail of fists and feet that had already laid out the pipsqueak and had Louis up against the wall where he was in the process of barely managing to dodge a straight right that would have connected with his head if he had been standing still and promptly resulted in Lou cursing loudly at the fighters as his framed poster of Frank Sinatra nearly bounced straight off the wall that the first had painfully collided with.

Almost immediately, the guy who threw the punch shook his fist and went back on the defensive. Behind him the other two were kicking the living daylights out of the pipsqueak and Vinny could see that Louis wanted to get to him.

A solid punch straight to the gut winded the barrier to saving his friend and a solid right hook to the side of the temple had Vinny wincing as a nasty meaty crunch elicited from the spot that was hit.

Charging forward, the short man swung a knee into the side of the biggest man’s thigh. It was a nice move and definitely must have hurt as the large man’s leg crumpled and left room for a solid hook to the rear side of the head that turned the man’s eyes inward towards each other before he fell to the ground.

The last man turned and wrapped his arms around Louis. Vinny watched on as they spun and the shorter man pivoted to throw the other towards the booth in the corner near the window. The guy went straight on the table and a firm kick between the legs from the rear had him staying there.

Ouch, Vinny muttered. This guy wasn’t playing fair.

Immediately, as the fight was over and all the money bet on it among the chefs and the customers who passed their money over the counter silently like Vinny had done was ripe to be collected, Lou started shouting and pointing to the door. The short black guy in overalls stumbled to it and dragged the pipsqueak up. The skinny kid pushed him away and then made his way out the door with his tail between his legs and left Louis to find his own way out.

Vinny watched the man slide open the door and wipe his bloody knuckles - his or the other three’s Vinny didn’t know - and start down the street.

Hold the pies, Vinny said to Triss behind the register. I’ll be back in 10 minutes.

He didn’t really need to say it. Lou was collecting money and handing it out and that meant that nothing was going to get done for at least 10 minutes. Vinny had enough time.

Walking out into the warm summer heat of the end of the day, Vinny walked up on the short black man and put a hand on his shoulder. The guy was stocky and the muscle under Vinny’s fingers was tense. The look on his flat masculine face was angry and his nose had a little red running from it.

Wait up, Vinny said.

What do you want? If those were your friends, you saw what they got and I’m good to give more if you are looking.

Nah, I don’t want any of that. You fought well. I want to give you my number. I think we could get along.

I’m not gay, thanks.

And I wouldn’t judge you if you were, Vinny said with a grin.

He paused and looked around.

Listen, I might have a thing that I need help with and I see you can handle yourself.

It was just a fight, Louis replied.

And you did everything that you could to detach yourself from it before you did what needed to be done. That’s rare around these parts. Most of your people want to fight as much as they want to fuck or eat.

The short man raised an eyebrow.

You mean black people?

"No, your people."

Vinny reached out and lifted the left cuff of the overall’s sleeve with his index finger and nodded towards the edge of the tattoos exposed there.

Most gang members don’t try to play it as cool as you did.

For a time they stared at each other.

You seem sketchy. I don’t know...

I’m as up and up as they come, Louis. You want to get paid, right?

Everyday.

Vinny pulled out his phone.

Then let’s exchange digits and see where we can go from there.

For a long time the black man thought it over. Vinny waited. He’d been here before and he knew that patience and letting them make their own decisions was the key to success when recruiting useful people.

Alright.

Louis pulled out an aging, very much out-of-date smart phone with a badly busted up screen and asked for a number to input and, with that done, Vinny was back in Lou’s store in the previously promised 10 minutes after having made himself a new friend and hopefully a very useful contact for the future.

CHAPTER 2

Vinny took the 30 minute drive from Forest Hills up through Maspeth and over the Williamsburg Bridge that loomed over the murky East River on his way to East Village, Manhattan, slow and easy. The hot pies sat cooling on the passenger seat of his beat up 1992 Mercedes SL500 and with every breath he could smell the rich scent of good quality Italian sauces and rich creamy cheeses.

The bridge’s traffic was lighter than usual, so he switched radio stations to the traffic news for a bit and found that there had been an accident on the other side and most commuters were sticking it out in Manhattan’s numerous restaurants rather than sit it out on the road as the cleanup crew did their thing.

The news ended and a song by Luke Bryan came on. Vinny would never tell anyone, but he liked country and he bopped his fingers on the steering wheel as he passed along the bridge.

To his front on the other side of the train tracks that separated the two major thoroughfares of the bridge, he could see the cause of the today’s light traffic - a nasty car crash that looked like a popped tire had led to a swerve into the side barrier - on seaward side of the double laned road to his right. A truck from the Brooklyn fire department was parked on the side of the road and some of the guys in yellow and black were people that Vinny knew.

He brought his eyes back to the road and drove on. East Village came into sight and he took a right past the tall square buildings off the side of the road and went up the Orchard Street Pedestrian Mall with its buildings staunchly crowding either side of the thin street before taking the long way up to Tompkins Square Park where he slowed a little to take in a very well made up American-Italian brunette strutting with shopping bags in either hand on the sidewalk by the park’s fence before pressing forward until he was surrounded by tall apartments made of red brick.

He parked his car next to a tree outside and got out. The pies came out second and he balanced them one on top of one another as he strode up to his destination and pushed one of the glass doors open with his foot.

The elevator took him to the fifth floor. The building had 13 floors, but his father never liked to be near the top. At apartment 5B he stopped and knocked on the door. A grunt came from the other side and he waited a few minutes before the door opened to the inquisitive face of a six foot 300 pound Italian man with a nose that had been scrunched right in and never set properly.

Jesus, Nicky, you kept me waiting. What if I was a customer?

Nicky grunted and said nothing. He eyed the pizza hungrily.

I’ll bring them in. Step out of the way so I can slip past.

Apartment 5B was small and felt even more so due to the size of the men who occupied it. Nicky shifted away and Vinny slid through. Willie - a man of equal size and shape - was lounging on the leather couch that acted as one seat at the big table that dominated the center of the main room. He gave Vinny a wink before turning back to his phone and continuing to thumb in whatever message he had been before their pizza delivery had arrived.

Putting the pizzas on the table, Vinny slid open the top box and took in a long whiff of heaven.

This is Lou’s new recipe. He says the sauce is different, Vinny told them.

Nicky grunted in approval and sat down to take a slice. Willie continued his texting, but gave a nod of thanks.

Slipping around the seat at the head of the table, Vinny collected a clean plate from the mini-kitchen near the three large windows that dominated the wall behind the table and put two steaming slices on it before sliding the bottom box out and taking it with him.

Is my father busy?

Nicky shook his head with half a pizza slice stuffed in his mouth.

Thanks.

Vinny walked to the door just next to the main entrance and stepped inside.

His father’s office was even smaller than the main room. Three stools lined one wall near the room’s single window and the graying old man was sitting behind his large wooden desk with a pen in his fingers and the Tuesday newspaper’s crossword sitting open in front of him.

I got pizza from Lou’s, Vinny said.

He put the plate down and placed the pizza box on the edge of the desk next to a scattering of pens.

That other thing too.

Opening the box, he revealed Lou’s payment for the month.

All there? his father murmured as he penned in ‘equinox’ into the crossword’s center.

Yeah, I counted it.

Vinny’s father looked up and leaned back in his chair. He brushed the side of the plate and smiled in a manner that was full with happiness.

Thank you, son.

No problem.

Vinny turned to go, but his father put up a hand.

Hold up. I need to talk to you about something.

Sure.

Firm eye contact was made with the leftmost chair that sat in front of the desk and Vinny grit his teeth and sat. If his father knew about that thing then this wasn’t going to be a pretty conversation.

His old man crossed his fingers in a bridge on the desk and leaned into it. His muddy brown eyes were still sharp as steel for a 53 year old and Vinny had no doubt they had missed nothing of what he had been up to lately.

You’ve been making moves, I hear.

Some. When am I not?

His father sighed and gave him an unreadable look.

You need to be more careful. You know how the boss is lately. Anything that he deems unsafe with our current legal issues has been shut down. Your brothers have told me that you have been hanging around that boy Tommy from New Jersey. I imagine you two are up to no good again.

‘Imagine’ didn’t mean ‘know’ and Vinny was aware the distinction meant a lot in this situation.

We are friends. Friends hang out.

Of course.

There was another long sigh then a pause and a glance at the pizza on the plate.

You need to learn patience, Vinny. One day you will join the ranks of the family like your older brothers have. Then you can come to me or the underboss or even the boss with your ideas.

I’m being patient, Vinny replied calmly.

Not patient enough. Big moves are for big players and you have no back up beyond the Strollo name. I only ask that you don’t risk so much that you can’t come back from it. He paused. That’s an order by the way.

I’ll consider what you have said, was Vinny’s reply.

Always the wise guy, his father chided. I swear if you were the oldest that your motivation would have made you a soldier by now.

But I’m not, Vinny pointed out. "The youngest has to scrap for his seat at the