Both men were rather vain when it came to their wardrobes. Yet Tony never quite cut the figure for which he aimed; his suits, no matter how expensive, were always ill-fitting on his disproportionately muscled body. On the other hand Angelo gave even Dapper John Gotti a run for his money where sartorial elegance was concerned. He wasn’t flashy, just meticulous. He wore exclusively Brioni suits, shirts, ties, and shoes. As Tony’s muscle building was in response to his short stature, Angelo’s fastidious attire was in response to his complexion, a subject about which he did not brook any reference.
Tony leaned back in his seat. He glanced in Angelo’s direction. Angelo was one of the few people Tony feared and respected, even envied. Angelo was connected, a made man whose reputation was legendary.
“Paulie told me that Frankie DePasquale would show up at this grocery store,” Angelo said. “So we’re going to spend the next month waiting here if need be.”
“Christ!” Tony muttered. Instead of getting out of the car, he reached into his baggy jacket and extracted his.25 caliber Beretta Bantam. Releasing the spring-loaded catch in the butt, he slid out the magazine and counted the bullets as if one of the eight shells could have disappeared since he last counted them half an hour ago.
When Tony pulled the empty gun’s trigger, Angelo rolled his eyes. “Put the gun away,” he said. “What’s the matter with you?”
“All right, all right!” Tony said, pushing the magazine home and returning the pistol to its shoulder holster. “Take it easy, will you.” He glanced at Angelo, who stared back at him for a moment. Tony held up his hands. He knew Angelo well enough to know he was irritated. “The gun’s away. Relax already.”
Angelo didn’t say anything. He resumed looking toward the entrance of D’Agostino’s, watching the people coming and going.
Tony sighed heavily. “It’s been a freaking month since the mothers threw the acid in Paulie’s face. Maybe the bums have split, skipped town. That’s what I would have done. The next day I would have been outta here. Gone down to Florida or out to the coast. We might be sitting here for nothing. Have you thought of that?”
“Frankie has been seen,” Angelo said. “He’s been seen here at D’Agostino’s.”
“So how did it happen?” Tony asked. “How’d they get close to Cerino in the first place?”
“It wasn’t complicated,” Angelo said. “Vinnie Dominick called the meeting with Cerino. There were to be no weapons. Everybody had to leave his piece in his car. We even used a metal detector that Cerino had taken from Kennedy Airport. When Terry Manso started to serve coffee, he threw a cup of acid in Paul’s face. The reason we know Frankie was involved was because he came with Manso.”
“How’d Frankie get away?” Tony asked.
“The moment Paulie got the acid the lights went out,” Angelo said. “Then the place went crazy with Paulie screaming and everybody diving for cover in the dark. I was by the front window. I threw a chair through it and dove outside. That was when I saw Manso come out the front door. Frankie was already climbing into a car. It all happened so fast, few people could react.”
“How did you manage to get Manso?” Tony asked.
“It was a race,” Angelo said. “Manso lost. My car was directly in front of the restaurant with my piece on the front seat where I could get to it fast if something went wrong. I got off two shots as Manso tried to get into his car. He never made it. Both slugs went into his back.”
“How many people were involved?” Tony asked. He’d been curious about the acid episode since he’d heard about it, but he’d been afraid to bring it up.
“The way I figure it, at least two more besides Manso and DePasquale,” Angelo said. “Knowing for sure is one of the reasons we want to talk with Frankie.”
“God, it blows my mind,” Tony said with a shake of his head. “I can’t imagine how much the Lucia people promised to pay for this kind of hit.”
“Nobody knows for sure,” Angelo said. “In fact, word has it that the punks did it on their own, thinking they’d be rewarded by the Lucia people for their balls. But as far as we can tell the Lucia people haven’t even acknowledged it.”