Mob Treasure

By James Cubby

Sixteen-year-old Joey is on a high-stakes scavenger hunt to find millions of dollars his recently deceased grandfather—an ex-Mob-boss—has hidden in a Miami Beach hotel. Joey hopes to recreate the bonding experience of his childhood visits where his beloved grandfather created a yearly treasure hunt. Finding the treasure was his grandfather's last wish. This time the clues, coded so only Joey can read, are hidden in his favorite book -Treasure Island sent to Joey after his grandfather's death. Joey has brought along his best friend Tyler to aid in the scavenger hunt but the two are no rivals against Mr. Fein - the new Mob boss, and his gun-toting goons. Mr. Fein threatens to kill Joey and his friends if he doesn't hand over the loot that he believes is rightfully his. One catch, Joey must find the money first.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fisher Collins Press
• Release date: Apr 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215315286

Book preview

There’s no such thing as good money or bad money. There’s just money.

~ Lucky Luciano

Money is everything in today’s world. He who has money has everything. And who is more concerned about money? Of course, gangsters! No one else can see the way gangsters look at money and their lives. Money is everything to them.

CHAPTER ONE

The Confrontation

Joey scrunched down in the seat next to his uncle for the drive home from boarding school. The news of his grandfather’s death had hit him like a tsunami of emotions then draining him of any feeling. He sat silent feeling comatose. He could only think of his beloved grandfather and his visits to Miami Beach. Visits he would no longer take. Joey couldn’t believe he was gone. His uncle tried consoling him but his words fell on deaf ears. Joey was a lump of flesh heading home.

Entering his home, Joey scanned the living room. The immaculately decorated living room could have been a set for a TV show like Mad Men – perfect but dated. Every element had been hand-selected by his mother and remained as a shrine to his childhood. The only changes in the room were a few new family photos and assorted throw pillows on the couch.

He peeked into the kitchen looking for his parents. No one.

Hello, anyone here? Joey stood listening. He wasn’t used to the quiet. He tiptoed back into the living room afraid of who or what might be lurking. Joey felt like an extra in a horror movie waiting for the main characters to appear. His home no longer felt like home.

Joey was the spitting image of a young Milton Lasky – his grandfather. However, he didn’t inherit his grandfather’s knack for numbers, but he did share his love for solving puzzles and treasure hunts. Joey knew he wasn’t blessed in the looks department but he was what his Aunt Sadie called cute. He loved spending time with his Pappy who taught his crazy skills like forgery – a skill he used when he needed a note from his parents.

Joey, you’re home. I was just...never mind. Estelle Lasky, Joey’s mom, floated down the steps, the stairs where the family posed for their yearly Hanukkah photo which hung on the wall with the other family memories. Oh, you’re...where’s? She looked around the room searching for her answer.

Usually, she was a vision of studied calm, perfect in appearance. Today her eyes were red. Joey knew she was not upset over his grandfather’s death – just the disorder. His grandfather had been a sore subject with her.

Joey liked to think his mom was a typical mom – she wasn’t.  Serious and uptight, his mom only laughed after she had a glass or two of wine. He had walked into the kitchen so many times and found her sitting at the table drinking alone. When he was younger, she drank her wine in a coffee mug. Now, she didn’t try to hide her love for merlot.

Why are you standing there with your bags? Uh, where’s your... Uncle Dan? She swayed a bit as she spoke, looking at Joey through glassy eyes.

He dropped me off. He’ll call later. Joey looked down almost unaware that he had returned to the spot he had left his bags. He rushed to his mother and put his arms around her.

She hugged him as if she were hugging a stranger and then stepped away.

Joey caught his mother’s stare who stood before him like a corpse. Where’s Dad?

He’s upstairs on the phone with your grandfather’s attorney, making arrangements for the funeral. He’ll be down later. Why don’t you take your things up to your room? Do you want something to eat? I have lasagna. Oh, by the way, there’s a package...delivered for you on your bed. It came this morning. His mom mumbled with a non-stop list of questions and statements, mostly unrelated like she was reading from the news scroll at the bottom of the TV screen. Have you talked to Tyler yet? Does he know? You can invite him to dinner if you want.

Tyler knows. How’s Dad?

Tyler was Joey’s best friend. They were inseparable working on school projects, scavenger hunts, student films, and other adventures.

Joey stared into his mother’s eyes searching for the truth, not the manufactured answers he was used to getting.

She looked past him as if he wasn’t there.

What was she thinking?

Your father is handling this extremely well – considering. He’s taking care of everything. I’m worried about all the attention our family will receive because of ‘you know who’. Did I mention that there’s a package for you on your bed?

Joey’s mom never said his grandfather’s name, it was always ‘you know who’ or ‘my notorious father-in-law.’ She grabbed his hands and her eyes met his. She touched his cheek, like she always did when he was upset – a move that seemed more rehearsed than sincere. He saw fear in his mother’s face, a look he had never seen before.

Joey ran up to his room - his safe place. He zeroed in on the package sitting on his bed. It was a UPS box that made the actual size of the contents questionable. Usually excited to receive a package, he felt nothing.

The box was from Matthew Weinstein, Attorney at Law in Miami Beach – his grandfather’s attorney. Joey trembled. His grandfather was reaching out to him from beyond. Now he understood why his mother was uninterested. He ripped open the package. Inside was a copy of Treasure Island, the book his Pappy had given him on his 8th birthday. Oh, Pappy. He stood shaking as he held the book, imagining his grandfather reading to him. He had never expected anything from his grandfather.

Joey opened the book to the first page where he had written his name when he first received the book. A box with the words THIS BOOK BELONGS TO: appeared with his signature – Joey Lasky. On the next page under the words TREASURE ISLAND, his grandfather had written: Joey, we’ve shared this adventure, now it’s time for a new one. In the margins of this book, I’ve written notes. A few memories of our time together. In the middle, you’ll find enough money for a trip to Miami Beach. If you remember all the puzzles and tips I taught you on searching, you’ll discover a secret hiding place of an extraordinary treasure. Do not tell anyone, even your parents. These clues are about your visits to Miami Beach so in case this book falls into the wrong hands, only you will be able to decipher them. I will be with you in spirit as you embark on this new adventure. Be very careful and trust no one. Much love, Pappy.

Joey sat on his bed for a moment. He felt dizzy after reading his grandfather’s words. When did he write this? Did he know he was dying? Memories of the day he received the book flooded back as he weighed the book in his hands. The faux leather binding and the gold letters on the cover of the book were just as he remembered. The illustration of the main character, Jim Hawkins, climbing up a rope ladder trying to escape a pirate brought the story to life in his mind as he flashed back to that moment in time.

Joey sat across from his grandfather in his favorite café. The two chatted together like best friends. His Pappy made each visit special treating him like an adult. The name of the hotel café slipped his mind; his grandfather had taken him to so many. Before their lunches, his grandfather often conducted a little secret business meeting with men. When the meal was served the man running the hotel, who Pappy treated like a friend, kept all visitors out so they could enjoy their time together in private. A man working for his grandfather always stood outside the door. His driver/bodyguard/business associate, Joey wasn’t sure of his exact purpose but he carried a concealed gun – that wasn’t so concealed. Joey thought it was visible on purpose as a scare tactic. Joey remembered thinking it unusual that they were always the only customers in the café.

Joey, I bought you a very special book called Treasure Island. It’s a book filled with pirates, buccaneers and buried gold. His grandfather beamed when he showed him the book. This was one of my favorite books when I was a young boy and it’s filled with adventure. His grandfather’s smile was a joy to see. He loved getting gifts from his Pappy, they usually came with a story or connected to an adventure.

Thanks, Pappy. I love pirates. Will you read to me? My favorite part is when you give all the characters funny voices. Joey thumbed through the book and paused at each colorful illustration.

The main character is a young boy like you. He’s a cabin boy on a ship filled with pirates who are searching for hidden treasure. Check out the picture on the front of the book. It’s the young lad climbing up the rope ladder on the pirate’s ship. He’s trying to get away from a vicious pirate who’s after him with a knife.

Wow! Read to me now, Joey begged.

Joey was lost in the memory of his grandfather. His Pappy was not like normal grandfathers he had met. Grandfathers who lived in New Jersey never acted like they owned the world. Pappy always sat straight like he was in charge but his smile disappeared when a business associate dropped by. His warm, loving demeanor transformed into that of a stern boss. He always apologized and got rid of the men as quickly as possible, so he could spend more time with his grandson. Most of the men were stuffy old businessmen types—gruff and scary, not warm and friendly like his Pappy. They stared at Joey like he was a waste of time.

The trip when Joey received the illustrated version of Treasure Island marked the beginning of many special visits. Every year his Pappy created a scavenger hunt giving Joey a series of clues that would lead to a hidden treasure. Most of the time the hiding places were in one of the Art Deco hotels they visited. Sometimes the treasure, usually a book or a game that had just come out, would be hidden in the same hotel as the previous year, but the clues were different and more difficult. His grandfather had trained him to look at the world through different eyes, to see things others didn’t see. Find clues hidden in plain sight. His grandfather was training him for the ultimate hunt with a real treasure. If he had only known.

Pappy read him a couple of chapters every visit, with special voices for all the characters. Joey demanded the book remain with his grandfather in Miami Beach. No one else could read a story to him like his beloved Pappy. His favorite character was called Long John Silver, and his grandfather always made Joey laugh when he voiced the gruff one-legged pirate with a parrot on his shoulder.

Even though he loved his grandfather reading to him, the stories he liked best were the tales of Pappy’s life as a Mob boss. He never used those words, it was always head of the family or some other term. He never said the words Mob or Mafia. His grandfather’s life seemed much more interesting than Treasure Island. Joey loved listening to the stories not only because they were exciting, but because it was his grandfather’s life. It was a life his mother frowned upon and his father ignored.

Tears filled his eyes as he thumbed through the pages of Treasure Island reading his grandfather’s words. So many memories invaded his mind. Notes and drawings filled the margins. Clues to his grandfather’s hidden money. Joey closed the book and hugged it. This was his last link to his grandfather – his legacy. His last treasure hunt. No one could know he had this book. Placing it back in the box, he slid it under the mattress.

The doorbell rang. Who would be visiting? Maybe Tyler? He ran downstairs.

His father stopped him before he reached the door.

Go upstairs, I’ll handle it. His father, Harry Lasky, never requested, he commanded. His father wiped his face and stood straight – he was still upset and not ready for visitors. Mr. Lasky took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck.

Did all fathers cap their emotions so often, like an actor getting ready for a big scene?

Walking to the front door, his father stopped and gazed out the peephole.

Shit, I don’t believe it. Harry swiveled away from the door and turned his head when he saw Joey. His father’s face had gone white. His father never swore. He motioned for Joey to go upstairs but he stood frozen in the middle of the floor. His dad took a deep breath, then opened the door. A hulking brute of a man surrounded by two Brickhouse gangster-types filled the doorway. If an expression could shout dangerous mobsters, it would be the faces of these two men but the scariest was the man in the middle. These were people from his grandfather’s world come to visit.

Harry, sorry to intrude at such a sad time. The voice was deep and the stare intense. It’s important that we talk about your father’s affairs.

This man was one of his grandfather’s associates Joey remembered meeting once on his yearly trip to Miami.

The new Mob boss was at their front door. Joey’s grandfather had warned him about this man - calling him the most dangerous powerbroker he had ever met. A strong statement considering the men his grandfather had encountered.

Joey turned on his heels and escaped to his room – where he stayed until hunger won.

Silence filled the downstairs like a morgue after hours. As Joey descended the stairs, he heard faint voices coming from the dining room. His father was still talking to the visitor behind closed doors.

He tiptoed to the kitchen and opened the fridge, searching for something to eat. His shoulders were tight and his body trembling. He never felt so uncomfortable in his own home.

Joey is that you? His father’s voice bellowed from the study.

Yes Dad, it’s me. I’m getting something to eat.

Could you come in the dining room for a minute? The request was firm yet a little hesitant.

Joey heard tension in his father’s voice. What did these men want?

Ok, just a minute, Joey replied. He gulped down a glass of orange juice and grabbed a banana, something he could eat while he listened to whatever his dad had to say.

Joey walked into the study. The visitor sat with his mom and dad. Joey knew exactly who this intruder was. The other two mobsters stood in opposite corners of the dining room like matching floor lamps watching the scene intently.

Joey, this is Mr. Fein, a friend of your grandfather. He stopped by to give his condolences and to ask a few questions.

Hello, Joey. Mr. Fein put out his hand for Joey to shake.

Hello. The firmest handshake Joey had ever felt and it wasn’t a friendly one at that.

Joey, I think we met with your grandfather in Miami Beach. He always spoke very highly of you. Sorry the circumstances aren’t the best.

A red flag went up in Joey’s mind. Danger.

Really? I don’t remember meeting you, Joey said. Can he tell I’m lying? I met so many of Pappy’s friends when I visited. I probably couldn’t pick any of them out in a lineup if questioned. His attempt at humor was overlooked.

Mr. Fein stared at him. His eyes hardened.

Joey, you were much younger when we met. I met with your grandfather many times while you were visiting.

Why is this man here? It was extremely odd this man visited so soon after his grandfather’s death. He was from Miami Beach. How had he gotten here so quickly?

How did you know my grandfather? Joey’s legs were shaking and he could feel sweat beads forming on his forehead. Joey knew very well the relationship between Mr. Fein and his grandfather but wanted to hear his explanation.

Mr. Fein stared right at Joey and his lips squeezed together like he was fighting to keep words from escaping. His expression could scare a smile from any one's face and wasn’t friendly at all - this man was villain personified. He sat in one of the family dining room chairs, however his size almost gave the appearance that he was standing as he dwarfed his parents. His family had hosted many social gatherings—he was the first person who seemed out of place.

Joey, when was the last time you talked to your grandfather? Mr. Fein completely ignored Joey’s question.

Why would Mr. Fein ask him that?

He called me on my birthday. Oh, he also called me on Hanukkah. We always talk by phone when I can’t visit.

Do you remember him telling you anything about money? This wasn’t just a question, but an interrogation.

Red flags! Why was this man asking about money? Not a good sign.

We never talked about money. Why do you ask? It was happening already. Just as his grandfather predicted. No one ever paid any attention to him, even when he was with his grandfather. They pretended to notice him, to please his Pappy. Joey stood squirming, licking his lips. His glass of orange juice sat on the table but he stood like a statue unable to move. He was not used to being in the spotlight.

You must understand there will be many people investigating the old man’s life and asking questions. I worked closely with him for many years. He was a very powerful man who had many friends and probably more enemies. He also controlled immense sums of money. We have come to believe he had accumulated a large amount of money when he died but no one has found it. We are not sure if the funds were placed in some foreign account or just hidden somewhere. Did your grandfather ever mention money or take you anywhere in Miami Beach where he could have hidden money?

Joey’s father stepped in. Angelo, my son knows nothing.

Mr. Fein stared at Joey completely ignoring his father’s voice. His expression never changed as he waited for Joey’s response.

Joey stood shaking. He glanced at his father for help. Mr. Fein’s steady stare bore into him. Joey didn’t want to respond. He remained speechless and shocked to hear his father call this man by his first name as if he knew him.

No. My grandfather never mentioned money. We never went anywhere where something could be hidden. That’s crazy. We went to lunch and walks, restaurants, and hotels. He took a deep breath and continued. "We took rides in his car and he pointed out the sites, mostly telling me what used to be there. He liked to reminisce about the old days. He never talked about money. If he had any