Philip Carlo - The Ice Man

“Big Guy,” DeMeo said, “we owe you! I’m going to make sure you earn seriously!”

Now another Gambino captain walked in: Sammy Gravano out of Bensonhurst, known as Sammy the Bull. He was with an attractive blonde and another couple. DeMeo and he nodded to each other. Gravano took a table in the back of the small place. Richard knew who Gravano was and wondered if his being there was only coincidence. In fact, Gravano was there just to eat and have a good time. He would, however, play a large part in Richard’s life in years to come. He too would play a large part in the murder of a capo di tutti.

DeMeo discreetly slid a sealed envelope filled with money over to Richard. “For a job well done,” DeMeo said.

“Roy,” Richard said, “I don’t want anything. This one is a favor. Tell the big guy [Castellano] and the others that… Truth is, it was my pleasure,” Richard said, quite the diplomat—a very smart move, this.

“You’re the best! you’re the fuckin’ best,” DeMeo said in little more than a whisper.

After a delicious feast—this place served excellent homemade Neapolitan Italian food—coffee, and after-dinner drinks, DeMeo offered to take Richard to a special cathouse and have four women do him at one time.

“All beautiful babes—like model beautiful, I swear!” DeMeo swore.

Richard declined. “The only woman I sleep with is my wife,” he said. And soon he was on his way back home. Richard felt at the top of his game, as if he had the world by the balls. He knew he should be earning big now.

As usual, Richard did not drive straight home; he doubled back, took turns, pulled off the parkway and waited, making sure he wasn’t being followed. He still wasn’t certain how all this would play out in the end. He figured he was still in danger if there was some kind of Italian double-cross in the wind. He still suspected DeMeo might have him killed; he didn’t trust DeMeo, didn’t consider him a friend. The only friends he had, Richard figured, were Barbara and his weapons. They never lied. They never cheated. They were always there when he wanted them, ready to do his bidding.

Little did Richard know how much Barbara had grown to resent him. She did her best to act as though it was all over when a tirade stopped, but it wasn’t. When Richard arrived home, he took Barbara in his powerful arms and made love to her.

The next day the Kuklinski family left for Florida. As always they stopped for a nice lunch on the drive down. The man who had just blown away Carmine Galante was in the car with his family on the way to Florida singing a Beatles song—“I Want to Hold Your Hand”—with his children, not a care in the world.

They stopped in a good hotel, the kids played in the pool, they had a nice leisurely dinner, and in the morning they drove straight on to Florida. On the way they bought fireworks at a shack along the way, some Roman candles, rockets, and ash cans to amuse the children. Richard seemed to be in a good mood, and Barbara was pleased, as were Chris and Merrick.

Neither Richard nor Barbara had found out anything about what Chris had done with the man in the van. For a while after it happened, Chris had felt bad… dirty, was troubled by it. But all that had changed. Now she felt stronger because of it; she had asserted her own individuality in the strongest way she could and was glad she’d done it.

When the family arrived in Florida they went straight to Al Pedrici’s home. As always Al was very pleased to see Barbara and his grandchildren.

The kids, of course, wanted to go out fishing on Al’s boat, and he was happy to accommodate them. He had the boat all gassed up already and bait and soda on board. As usual Barbara declined to go, and Richard and the kids hopped on board and off they went. Al commented to Richard about the picture of Galante on the front page of all the Florida papers. Richard acted as though he were as surprised by it as everyone else.

As per Barbara’s instructions, Richard made sure he put sunblock on himself, Chris, and Merrick. Dwayne didn’t need any sunblock. He had the dark skin of a Mediterranean boy and didn’t sunburn like his dad and sisters. They started catching snappers and blowfish right away. They also hooked a small sand shark, which Al let go. Seeing the shark fleetingly reminded Richard of the rapist he had tortured and killed in Miami. Richard rarely thought of the people he murdered. It was almost as if someone else had done those things. In a very real sense there were two Richards. Even now, so many years later, when Richard talks about things he did he often says “we,” refers to himself in the plural. Rarely does he say “I.”

After staying at Al’s home a few days, going out to the best restaurants each evening, Richard dropping hundred-dollar bills as if they were used tissues, the family went on to Disney World, and the kids had a ball. Funny how Richard so enjoyed Disney World. When he was there he was more like a big kid. It seemed he was making up for the childhood he’d never had. He’d go on all the fun rides and had a bigger smile than the children. The family stayed at Disney World six days, then headed back up to New Jersey, stopping in hotels as they went. It was a good vacation. Richard didn’t lose his temper once. Everyone had a great time. Still, it was good to be back home. Home sweet home.

The following day was a Sunday and the family went to church. Barbara made sure of that. Richard was an usher at the church, dutifully helped with the collections. He didn’t at all believe in the Catholic Church or its teachings. He came and was an usher to please Barbara. He recently explained, The church was all full of shit. A bunch of lying, money-hungry, hypocritical bastards. I used to see priests I knew in peep shows over on Eighth Avenue, in the shops I sold porn to.

As the summer was coming to a close and autumn was approaching, Richard spent more and more time with Robert Pronge. He was fascinated with the unique methods Pronge had invented, developed, and perfected to kill people. But the more Richard grew to know Pronge, the more he began to think that Pronge was a sick motherfucker, as he put it—certainly an interesting characterization coming from him.

Pronge had a piece of work to do in Queens. He used his Mister Softee truck to scope out the mark’s house. Intrigued, Richard went along with him to observe. Pronge pulled up right in front of the mark’s house and actually sold ice cream to the mark’s children. Later that night Pronge—with Richard still tagging along—went back to the mark’s home, opened the mark’s car with a master key he had, and planted a fragmentation grenade right under the front seat.

In the morning, now in Pronge’s car, Pronge and Richard watched the mark get into his car and pull away. They followed him. Pronge had the triggering device in his hand. He had many good opportunities to set it off, but he waited, clearly enjoying toying with the mark’s life, which troubled Richard. He seemed to enjoy too much having control over when and where he died. Richard kept asking him to do it; he wanted to see how the grenade worked and to get this over with, but Pronge kept drawing it out, as if it were good sex he didn’t want to end. Richard began to wonder about Pronge’s sanity.

Finally, after two hours of following the mark around, Pronge set off the grenade, and boy did it work well. It not only killed the mark, but blew the lower half of his body apart. Richard was impressed. He bought four of the radio-activated grenades from Pronge.

The police had no idea who had blown up the man, or why. There was, of course, no connection between Pronge and the victim.

Richard, in turn, took Pronge on a job. Together they abducted the mark from a parking lot using Richard’s animal-tranquilizer dart. This was a situation where the order was for the mark to suffer, to be tortured, and Richard took him to the caves in Bucks County, and Pronge watched Richard prepare the mark for the rats, set up the camera, the lights, the motion detector.