“I still don’t get it,” Guido protested, gulping down another enormous fork-full of spaghetti. “Everything was goin’ terrific at first. No trouble at all. Then BOOM, it hits the fan, know what I mean?”
“Yeah! It was like someone was deliberately workin’ to put us out of business.”
That last was from cousin Nunzio. For the longest time I thought he was physically unable to talk. Once he got used to having me around, though, he opened up a little. In actuality, Nunzio was shy, a fact which was magnified by his squeaky little voice which seemed out of place coming from a muscleman.
“I warned you that Deveels can be a nasty lot,” I said, eager to get the subject away from the possibility of organized resistance. “And if the shopkeepers are sneaky, it only stands to reason that the local criminal element would have to have a lot on the ball. Right, Guido?”
“That’s right,” the goon nodded vigorously, strands of spaghetti dangling from his mouth. “We criminal types can beat any honest citizen at anything. Say, did I ever tell you about the time Nunzio and me were…”
“Shut up, dummy!” Shai-ster snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re footing the bill for these local amateurs. We’re getting our brains beat out financially, and it’s up to you boys to catch up with the opposition and return the favor. .. physically.”
“They’re scared of us,” Guido insisted. “Wherever we are, they aren’t. If we can’t find ’em, they can’t be doin’ that much damage.”
“You know, brains never were your long suit, Guido,” Shai-ster snarled. “Let me run this past you once real slow. So far, we’ve paid out six times as much as we’ve taken in. Add all our paychecks and expenses to that, and you might have a glimmer as to why the Big Boys are unhappy.”