Evan Hunter - Every Little Crook and Nanny

“What have you heard?” Bozzaris asked.

“Plenty,” Snitch said, figuring all was not lost, despite the fact that Bozzaris was already privy to information about Ganooch’s cable.

“Come into my office and we’ll have some coffee,” Bozzaris said. “Sam!” he yelled to one of his fellows. “Two cups of coffee on the double!”

“We are out of coffee, Skipper!” Sam yelled back.

“Be that as it may,” Bozzaris answered, and led Snitch into his office. “Please sit down,” he said, and beckoned to an easy chair usually reserved for the Police Commissioner, the District Attorney, and various other municipal dignitaries who never visited Bozzaris’ office. Snitch accepted the seat with all the dignity of President Richard Milhous Nixon accepting a hard hat from construction workers.

“How did you know who signed that cable?” Bozzaris asked, getting directly to the point.

“I have ways and means,” Snitch answered.

“For what purpose does Carmine Ganucci need this money?” Bozzaris asked.

“There was a major felony committed on Tuesday night,” Snitch answered.

“Be that as it may,” Bozzaris said, “I don’t see the connection.”

“Are you familiar with the lady who lives at Many Maples?” Snitch asked.

“Are you referring to Stella Ganucci?”

“No,” Snitch said.

“Stella Ganucci has a very spectacular set of jugs,” Bozzaris said wistfully.

“True, but I mean the lady who lives there and takes care of the Ganucci boy.”

“I remember seeing Stella Ganucci perform in Union City when I was a mere boy myself,” Bozzaris said, “and when her name at the time was Stella Stardust. She had a little light on the end of each tit, and it shone in the dark, both of them.”

“Yes, but I mean the lady known as Nanny.”

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Nanny came to me this morning to ask about a major felony committed on Tuesday night.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing. But I’ll bet you all the money in China that Ganooch’s request for fifty grand is linked to that felony.”

“Which felony would that be?” Bozzaris asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Snitch replied. “But it’s something big, I’m sure of that.”

“Mmm,” Bozzaris said, and laced his fingers across his chest. He thought for a moment, cleared his throat, leaned forward in the swivel chair, put both elbows on the desk, fingers still laced, and said, “As I’m sure you know, Snitch, I’m considered a fighter in the department, witness my name. I was a fighter even back when I was a patrolman walking a beat on Staten Island, and I’ve continued to be a fighter over all the years that have brought me to my present fame and position. If there’s one thing I can’t abide, it’s evil. Evil to me is the opposite of good. It’s the death force, as contrary to the life force. Have you ever noticed, Snitch, that ‘evil’ spelled backwards is ‘live’?”

“No, I never noticed that,” Snitch said.

“Try it,” Bozzaris said.

“How do you spell ‘evil’?” Snitch asked.

“E-v-i-l, which is l-i-v-e spelled backwards.”

“Yes, that’s right, now that you mention it,” Snitch said.

“And if there’s one thing I hate worse than evil, it’s organized evil. Carmine Ganucci and his fellows represent organized evil to me. Snitch, I’m going to tell you something in all honesty. I’ve always been a rebel, witness my name. I do not consider it fair that Carmine Ganucci and his fellows, through their organized evil, are reaping huge profits while my salary as a detective lieutenant in charge of a crack squad is a mere $19,781.80 a year. Do you think that’s fair, Snitch?”

“I don’t think it’s fair, Lieutenant,” Snitch said. “On the other hand, there is much on this road of life that is unfair, but we must all carry our share of the goddamn burden.”

“Snitch?” Bozzaris said.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Snitch, I do not like profanity.”

“Forgive me,” Snitch said.

“Profanity and evil go hand in hand.”

“I, myself, rarely swear,” Snitch said.

“Be that as it may,” Bozzaris said. “Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

“I don’t think so,” Snitch said.

“Why do you think that fellow at Western Union called me ?” Bozzaris said.

“To tell you about the cable Ganooch sent.”

“Yes, but why me ? He’s a trusted adviser, Snitch, same as you, though hardly as well known or respected. Now why do you think he called me instead of someone on the D.A.’s Special Squad?”

“Why?” Snitch said.

“Because he knows I have vowed unending warfare against the forces of evil,” Bozzaris said.

“Oh,” Snitch said.

“Carmine Ganucci is evil. So when this fellow at Western Union gets hold of a message from Ganucci to his lawyers, he calls me, knowing full well I’ll do something about it, whereas those fellows on the D.A.’s squad would sit around on their asses all week without making a move, though I dislike profanity.”

“I see,” Snitch said.

“Also, he knew I would pay him twenty-five dollars for the information,” Bozzaris said. “The same way I always pay you twenty-five dollars for any information you come up with.”

“Well, could I have the twenty-five now?” Snitch asked. “I’m a little short of cash these days.”

“I’d be happy to give you twenty-five dollars this very minute,” Bozzaris said. “The trouble is you haven’t come up with any information I didn’t already possess.”

“I have so,” Snitch said.

“As for example?”

“Well, you didn’t know about the big felony committed on Tuesday night, for example, did you?” Snitch said.

“I know about four hundred and ten felonies committed in this very precinct alone,” Bozzaris said.

“But you didn’t know this particular felony might be connected to...”

“ Which felony?” Bozzaris said, and smiled. “Do you see what I mean, Snitch? So far, no new information.”

“Well, what is it you’d like to know?” Snitch asked. “ Which felony it was?”

“I’m not interested in felonies,” Bozzaris said. “Felonies are a dime a dozen around here. I think I can say with some measure of pride that there are more felonies committed in this precinct than in any other precinct in the entire city. So don’t tell me about felonies. I’m not interested in felonies.”

“Well,” Snitch said, “what are you interested in?”

“The fruits of organized evil,” Bozzaris said. “Money. I am primarily interested in intercepting that fifty thousand dollars before it gets to Naples.”

“If I may say so, Lieutenant,” Snitch said, “I don’t know very much about organized evil, of course, but I’m willing to bet those fellows send a check to Naples.”

“I beg to differ with you,” Bozzaris said, “and I’ll make allowances for your ignorance since I’ve made a lifelong study of organized evil, whereas you have not. But it’s been my experience that these fellows never write checks. Never. You can mark that down as a cardinal rule.”

“Well, maybe so,” Snitch said, “in which case it would be a simple matter to arrange a transfer of funds from a New York bank to a Naples bank. If there’s one thing I know about organized evil, and I admit I don’t know very much, it’s that these fellows are very well organized.”

“Be that as it may,” Bozzaris said, “not too many of them are willing to risk keeping records that show large amounts of money being transferred from one country to another, nor even from one city block to another. That’s one sure way of getting the Internal Revenue Service down on their asses, Snitch, witness what happened to Al Capone, and pardon the French.”