Gary Ponzo - A Touch of Greed

Frank DeRosa didn’t lift his hand to return the gesture; he simply sat down across from Tommy and stared vacantly.

Tommy sat as well. “Mr. DeRosa, my name is Tommy Bracco. I used to work for Mr. Capelli back in Baltimore.” Tommy looked up and made the sign of the cross over his torso. “May he rest in peace.”

DeRosa didn’t move a muscle.

Tommy felt like he was being timed, so he quickened his pitch before he’d lost the guy’s attention altogether.

“Mr. DeRosa,” Tommy said, “my cousin is with the FBI. He chases terrorists. It’s the only thing he does. Anyway, he’s trying to get to a particular terrorist down in Mexico who’s about to transport a nuclear device into the United States.”

So far the only thing DeRosa found interesting was a fly which flew around his head.

“Anyway, I was hoping you could help us out. I told my cousin you might be able to inspect a phony bill and tell us where we might find the printer of such a thing. In return, he would have you released within forty-eight hours.” Tommy showed the palms of his hands. “Mr. DeRosa, if this phony bill was created by a friend of ours, then I wouldn’t expect you to ever roll over on such a person. But if he were just an independent contractor, someone we’re not close with, well, you might be interested in the offer.”

DeRosa remained still. He stared at Tommy as if waiting for the punch line of a joke. After a moment he found the fly again and watched it land on the table between them.

Tommy waited for a full minute before he’d realized he was wasting his time. He stood up and nodded. “I appreciate you taking the time to listen to me, Mr. DeRosa. I won’t be bothering you anymore. And I’ll be sure to tell my cousin to leave you alone as well.”

Tommy was two steps from the door when he heard something which made the hair stand up on the back of his head.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

Tommy turned to face his accuser and held up his hands. “Mr. DeRosa, I can assure you, if we had met before I would certainly have remembered that meeting.” Now he was feeling the temperature rise in the room. He may have stepped over some line which he shouldn’t have crossed.

DeRosa pointed to the chair across from him. “Sit,” he ordered.

Tommy wasted no time taking his seat.

DeRosa raised his head and looked down at Tommy as if examining him. “It was a long time ago, Christmas Eve,” DeRosa said. “You came to my daughter’s home back in Baltimore. She lived in the same neighborhood as you.”

Tommy’s mouth became dry. He didn’t like stories which he couldn’t remember the ending.

“You came over dressed as Santa, carrying a gigantic stuffed lion for my granddaughter.”

Tommy waited for the knockout.

“Anyway, my daughter says you were a nice guy and brought the local kids gifts every year.”

Tommy shrugged, hoping for a reprieve. “She’s not lying about that.”

“Maybe not,” DeRosa said. “But me, I’m a suspicious guy. Some casual acquaintance happens over the house while I’m staying there, and I’m not comfortable. Especially someone who works for another family.” DeRosa raised his eyebrows. “Right?”

“I agree. There’s no other way to look at that.”

“Of course not,” DeRosa said. “So, once my granddaughter went to bed that night, I had that stuffed animal torn apart. Every inch of that thing was inspected for bugs. Know what I found?”

“A bunch of cotton?”

DeRosa broke out into an all out laugh. He slapped his hands together, the memory seeming to keep his demeanor light and Tommy was all for that.

“I spent the entire night having that thing stitched back together. Piece by piece. Boy, what a long Christmas Eve.”

“So I met you?” Tommy asked.

“Naw, I watched your visit from the back of the room.” DeRosa cocked his head. “Do you remember who my daughter is now?”

“I apologize, Mr. DeRosa. I don’t have any children of my own, so I’ve been delivering toys to kids in the neighborhood for probably fifteen years. I simply don’t recall which one was your daughter. I am so sorr-”

“Stop,” DeRosa held up his hand. “You don’t owe me any apologies.” He looked around the room, then grabbed the microphone in front of him. “This thing on?”

“I doubt it,” Tommy said. “I haven’t touched a thing.”

DeRosa flicked a switch at the base of the microphone a couple of times to assure it was off, then he rested his elbows on the table and gave Tommy a reflective look. “I hear you’re coming to see me and I’m wondering what’s this guy up to. So I had you checked out. Everyone I talk to says the same thing. This guy plays it straight. He don’t talk out of both sides of his mouth.” DeRosa nodded to himself. “So what’s the first thing you tell me? Your cousin is with the feds. You don’t bullshit me with some cockamamie story about helping our country or being with my family. No, you tell me straight out, your cousin needs help. See, I understand wanting to help out family.”

“Mr. DeRosa-”

“Frank,” DeRosa corrected. “Please call me Frank.”

“Sure, Frank. I wouldn’t dream of disrespecting you by playing games.”

“I know,” DeRosa said. He appraised Tommy with a paternal smile. “You like kids, huh?”

“I do.”

DeRosa nodded. “Me too.” Then his expression changed. His face became sullen. “So, tell me about this guy your cousin is after.”

“His name is Antonio Garza,” Tommy said. “He’s a Mexican assassin who transports drugs over the border for the cartels.”

“And now he’s expanding his business to include nuclear devices?”

“Something like that. He also killed a friend of mine. She was also an FBI agent who helped catch terrorists as well.”

DeRosa nodded.

“Plus, he’s kidnapped a Border Patrol agent’s teenage daughter. Heaven knows what he’s done with her.”

DeRosa cringed at the notion. “I’ve heard enough,” he said. “Tell me how I can help.”

Tommy pulled the one hundred dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to DeRosa. At first, the man seemed to examine the paper with his fingertips more than his eyes; then he held it up to the overhead light and squinted. After a few seconds a grin spread across his face. He handed the bill back to Tommy and placed his hands on the table in front of him.

“Okay, so let me understand,” DeRosa said. “If I tell you who made this, I get out of here in forty-eight hours?”

“Exactly.”

“We’re not talking about needing a conviction or anything, right?”

“No. You give us the name and that’s it, you’ve held up your end of the bargain.”

“And what happens if the guy denies it, or you can’t find him?”

“Let’s put it this way,” Tommy said, spreading his hands over the table like he was smoothing sand at the beach. “Forty-eight hours from the minute we locate the guy, you’re out of here.”

That put a gleam into DeRosa’s eyes. He held out a perfectly manicured hand and Tommy shook it. “I trust you.”

“I’m glad.”

DeRosa leaned back in his chair and said, “I can tell you his name and where you can find him almost every day of the week.”

“Fantastic. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

Then DeRosa folded his arms across his chest. “I can even do you one better.”

“How’s that?”

“I can round up a crew to help you tackle this creep. One phone call and I could have an entire army of friends ready to follow your instructions.”

Tommy sat up straight and placed a hand over his heart. “Oh, Frank. I think you’re gonna make me blush.”