Everybody Loves Raymond Ventry (895 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: The_Malleys
Rating: 2 on 13 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Axolotl .77 (View user info) at 2006-06-21 11:26:59 EDT
"Message for John Malley," Virgil said, walking into Raymond Ventry's living room where Malley, Brecher and Don McMichael had convened. It was the morning of All Saint's Day, and Raymond Ventry's tortured body still lay downstairs in the basement.
Virgil walked into the middle of the living room followed by Marcus Toussaint, a Haitian associate of the Dimiglio family. "Hey, Marcus..." Don McMichael said nostalgically, remembering Marcus' assassination attempt on him months before. "What's the good news?"
"Michael Sullivan and Antonio Delgado tried to kill Carmine Galantro late last night, before they went to you, John," Marcus said quickly. "Paul Ciceri was there too, but he told Galantro and Sylvie Augusto. They were waiting..."
"What happened? Are they safe?" John Malley asked, worried.
"There was a gunfight outside Carmine's place in Kearny," Marcus said somberly. "Sylvie got winged, but Sullivan and Delgado ran away when they saw that Carmine wasn't alone. They're in hiding...Delgado's in his brothel in Jersey City, but I don't know where Sullivan went."
"Oh, we know where Sullivan is," Don McMichael said, standing up. "Paul Ciceri's taking care of Delgado this morning, and I want to be the one to pull the trigger on that traitorous son of a bitch Dan McCourt."
"Guys!" groaned Raymond Ventry from the basement. "Are you still there, guys?"
"We'll figure out what to do with him later," John Malley said. "Michael, call John Broadus and track down Michael Sullivan. Keep me posted on what's going on, and be careful. Virgil, I'll need your help later."
"Let's roll," Virgil muttered, rising to his feet.
* * *
Dan McCourt drove down University Avenue in Newark in his new red convertible, his hand hanging out the window. He happily sped down the wide urban streets in the car he had bought with his illicit blood money.
Inside Malley's Irish Restaurant and Pub, Peter and John Malley awaited Dan McCourt's arrival in the lobby. "I knew our business suffered after the guy was murdered last April," Peter said in concern. "Be careful how this is done."
Don McMichael stepped into the lobby with a navy duffelbag in his hands. "Don't worry," the broad McMichael said. "I'll take him cleanly."
Dan McCourt pulled up outside the doors on the relatively empty Newark street. "Hey, guys!" he called out. "You got the dough?"
Don McMichael walked out of the entrance toward McCourt's car as John Malley watched from the doorway. Peter turned his head away from the scene, his heart beating fast. McMichael raised the duffelbag with a triumphant grin.
"Let me see the money, man!" McCourt said in anticipation. He slid across to the passenger seat to get a batter look, stretching across the front of the car.
McMichael smiled knowingly at John Malley, and fumbled around inside the bag, his fingers grasping the butt of a suppressed handgun. He drew it out and dropped the tote bag to the ground, calmly aiming the pistol. McCourt's jaw dropped, and he raised his hands in surprise.
Don McMichael fired and shot McCourt under the armpit, piercing through his chest. McCourt reeled back as McMichael shot him rapidly, bullets hitting his chest and shoulders, popping little red holes over his shirt. McCourt fell back into the car, his head resting on the steering wheel. McMichael leaned into the convertible and pumped two last bullets into McCourt's head.
"Good," McMichael breathed. "That's for Paddy Kelly, you scumbag."
John Malley held his cell phone to his ear as McMichael got in the driver's seat and drove into the parking lot of the restaurant to hide the body. Carmine Galantro answered on the other end. "Carmine, Dan McCourt's taken care of," John said.
"Good," Carmine replied. "Are we going through with the plan then?"
"Yes."
"Meet me at noon in Dimiglio's building in Jersey City, you know where it is. I'll be happy to take Raymond Ventry off your hands if you can't think of what to do with the kid."
"I'll consider it," John Malley mused. "I'll see you then, Carmine."
* * *
The door to Delgado's private room in his Jersey City brothel opened with a bang, and Paul Ciceri proudly walked in. Delgado startled, pushing the semi-nude hooker away from him and backing up against the headboard.
"Yo, Tracy, get out of here," Delgado said quickly, pushing the prostitute off his bed. She drunkenly walked away toward the kitchen. Paul Ciceri stood before Delgado's bed, hands clasped.
"Oh...does the good-looking guy want us back? Second try?" Antonio Delgado asked with a wide smile. "All these deals with bosses, makes me sad I'll never be made."
"Yeah...a boss wants you," Paul Ciceri said after a short pause.
"Cool," Delgado said, trying out his wide, toothy smile on Paul Ciceri. Paul stared at Delgado for a moment, and drew the silenced .45 out of his winter jacket. He aimed and fired, shooting out the back of Delgado's big mouth, sending a spray of blood up against the headboard.
Paul looked at Delgado, blood running out between his clenched teeth, and turned away back out the door, hoping Tracy hadn't seen his face.
* * *
John Malley walked into the ground floor of the Hudson Avenue office building, flanked by a leather-jacketed Virgil O'Duinen, and Don McMichael in a red polo. A white-haired mobster that John recognized as Dane Ciceri, Paul's father, stepped out of the way of the elevators, allowing the three to enter.
"Going to see the good-looking guy?" Dane asked.
"We are," McMichael replied curtly, entering the elevator.
"Good," Dane said with a look of triumph. The doors closed, and the elevator rocketed up toward the higher floors. O'Duinen, Malley and McMichael stood silently, their heads bowed, confidently approaching Carlo Dimiglio's floor.
John Malley stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby of Dimiglio's office. Sylvester Augusto and Carmine Galantro were waiting by the empty receptionist's desk, flanking the door to Dimiglio's suite.
"You got it from here, boss," Sylvester said, pushing open the door.
Carmine gave Malley a stiff handshake and asked, "Michael Sullivan?"
"Will not live more than two hours," John Malley whispered into Carmine's ear. Carmine nodded and they walked into Dimiglio's chamber.
Dimiglio looked surprised as the four men entered his office. He quickly pushed his documents out of the way, and picked up the rabbit that was contentedly stretched out across the desk. "Carmine, Malley..." he said, leaning back. "What brings you here with armed men?"
"We were attacked last night," John Malley said, stepping up to Dimiglio's desk. McMichael and O'Duinen encircled the desk, while Carmine stood side-by-side with John. "Both of us."
"Why, that's terrible," Dimiglio said in concern. "Who was it?"
Carmine listed off the names precisely, anger in every syllable. "Dan McCourt, Antonio Delgado, Michael Sullivan."
"We know it was you," John said coolly. "Paul Ciceri and Michael Brecher betrayed you and told us the plan. Do you want to know what we did to Raymond Ventry?"
"Please, spare me," Dimiglio said. "Are you going to kill me here? Is that what you plan to do? I'm not afraid. Do you see the cameras all over the room? My hand is on a button that calls the police here, and turns on the cameras for the security to see."
"We don't need to kill you," John Malley said, placing his hands on the desk. "We've already gotten rid of your helpers."
* * *
"No! I'm innocent!" Michael Sullivan bellowed as he stumbled down the rocky, steep slope leading down to the Passaic River. Paterson Falls roared just fifty yards away, and few spectators looked down from the long bridge spanning the falls. A gunshot echoed throughout the gorge.
"Aim for his feet and buttocks," John Broadus said coldly, shooting a quick glance at Michael Brecher. Both men with guns drawn followed Sullivan through the treacherous tree-lined hill.
"Stay away!" Sullivan said, working his way down the cliff side, grasping at the trees and bushes. A fusillade of gunfire bounced off the rocks and branches. Michael Brecher took careful aim and fired his pistol, hitting Sullivan in the back.
Sullivan fell, cradled by the trees and jutting rocks, turning over to face his two attackers. Brecher and Broadus stepped down onto an outcrop, guns aimed down at Sullivan.
"You murdered Paddy Kelly in his car," Brecher said softly. "And you nearly killed John Malley and his innocent family. There's no way to run, Sully."
"Michael," Sullivan begged. "I'll leave, I'll move to California, anywhere—"
"It's over," John Broadus barked, raising his gun. Michael Brecher and John Broadus opened fire at Sullivan's crippled body, striking him in the chest and arms. Michael Sullivan moaned and twitched as the bullets pounded his body, but by the time their guns were out of bullets, Sullivan was dead.
* * *
"Dan McCourt?" John Malley said to Dimiglio. "Dead. Donald shot him in his car in Newark, he will be buried in the Meadowlands. Antonio Delgado? Paul Ciceri killed him this morning. Raymond Ventry? He's alive, barely. We're still deciding what to do with him."
"Michael Sullivan?" Dimiglio asked, his voice failing with his confidence.
"We learned his hiding spot," John said. "He is dead."
Carmine walked slowly toward Dimiglio's chair. "There is no button," he said, looking up at the nonexistent cameras on the walls. "You are alone here. I wouldn't think you'd dare to call the police here of all places, where they can find your illegal documents."
"You've caused a lot of trouble," Virgil O'Duinen said, closing in on Dimiglio. "You should have stayed in jail if you knew what was good for you."
"We're all gentlemen here," Dimiglio said sweetly, feverishly stroking his rabbit. "We can talk about this..."
"Could we talk about it when you tried to have me killed in Paterson?" Don McMichael asked, reaching inside his jacket.
Dimiglio slammed his feet down, knocking his chair back and standing quickly to his feet, dropping the rabbit. He reached into his jacket, and whipped out a small pistol, but McMichael elbowed the old man in the chest, knocking the gun out of his hands.
"Oh, my heart..." Dimiglio groaned, dropping weightily to the ground.
* * *
John Broadus climbed down the slope and pausing a moment, kicked Sullivan off the nest of tree branches and rocks, down toward the swirling pool under the waterfall. Sullivan plummeted like a rag doll, smashing into the rocks below. "They won't find him for a few days," Broadus said. "Let's go, we can dispose of the guns."
* * *
"What did you do to him?" Carmine muttered as Dimiglio shook on the ground, grasping his chest and arm.
"Heart...heart..." Dimiglio coughed, his face bright red.
"Call the ambulance, for God's sake!" Virgil said, lowering himself to Dimiglio's side. "He's having a heart attack! Call the receptionist or something!"
Don McMichael stepped back from the scene, his murderous rage dissipating. John Malley leaned over the desk to look at Dimiglio, and pulled out his cell phone, against all his instincts. He typed 911 into the keypad and held the phone to his ear.
"Hello, I'd like to report a heart attack. Send immediate medical help to the 18th floor of the Liberty Building, 22 Hudson Avenue, Jersey City..."
* * *
The innocent woman's face as she died played on an endless loop in Willy Malley's mind. In his head, Willy pulled the trigger over and over, the bullet missing Pat Coyle and striking the young woman.
A note lay on the attic table describing the incident, and Willy's interminable regret. He had finally gotten the chance to complete a mission in the family, and he had damned himself instead. His thoughts turned to heaven, as he tearfully prayed that he might find God's forgiveness.
With a final sigh of remorse and depression, Willy kicked the chair out from under him, and the rope caught tightly against his neck. His windpipe crumpled and he felt blinded by the blood pulsing behind his eyes.
He kicked out, but nobody was there. His feet knocked the tools off the table as he squirmed in his noose. His heavy body flailed and shook, bouncing the rope like a guitar string. At the rafter where the rope was tied, the poorly-made knot came apart, and Willy Malley fell to the ground with a quake.
Pain flooded his body as he took a deep breath of air, freed from the rope. He looked up from his pounding head at the rafter where the rope had been tied, and didn't know whether to curse or rejoice.
Willy sat up, his coccyx aching and back in agony. Lying on the floor, the rope still around his neck, Willy began to cry. He heaved and wept for a long time, pulling the rope off his neck and covering his face.
-----
And that ends season 3. Read the rest of The Malleys episodes on:
http://www.ubersite.com/u/Axolotl/l/the_malleys
User Reviews
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-06-22 23:07:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-06-22 21:54:12 (#)
Ranking: 2
Uh...this was okay, but what I got out of it was 'blah blah blah, Jimmy McGangster shoots Johnny the Rat, blah blah blah, shooting, blah blah, Timmy McWop takes hot lead from Joey the Bull, blah blah, etc.'
Too many names, too sparse a description of the goings-on. Though because this appears to be a series I'm going to give you a +2 on faith that it's all laid out in previous instllments.
Interestingly, I totally pictured this story taking place in the 1940's, until the one dude pulled out his cell phone. And "Michael Sullivan" is the name of Tom Hanks' gangster character in Road to Perdition.
---
If this is the first one you read, it was bad timing...this was the end of the 3rd season, and the climax of the last six episodes. All the characters were set up in the previous, but the three who died in this chapter were three of the major villains/henchmen of the series. The first three episodes aren't as good, but from the 4th on it gets better.
I tried to give it a feel of Goodfellas, Perdition etc Didn't know that about Michael Sullivan...I named him after Michael Corleone, actually.
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2006-06-22 22:11:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-06-22 21:54:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Uh...this was okay, but what I got out of it was 'blah blah blah, Jimmy McGangster shoots Johnny the Rat, blah blah blah, shooting, blah blah, Timmy McWop takes hot lead from Joey the Bull, blah blah, etc.'
Too many names, too sparse a description of the goings-on. Though because this appears to be a series I'm going to give you a +2 on faith that it's all laid out in previous instllments.
Interestingly, I totally pictured this story taking place in the 1940's, until the one dude pulled out his cell phone. And "Michael Sullivan" is the name of Tom Hanks' gangster character in Road to Perdition.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-06-22 16:59:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
There shall be more soon...
But I'm leaving Sunday for San Diego for 13 days. No more for a while...
Submitted by BobLobla (user info) at 2006-06-22 16:48:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
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Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-06-22 01:41:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Weeps
Submitted by TigerLilly (user info) at 2006-06-21 12:56:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-06-21 11:57:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
!?Everyone is out of the loop!?
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-06-21 11:53:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2006-06-21 11:46:51 (#)
Ranking: 2
very nice.
they called the hospital because the guy they were about to kill had a heart attack?
sketchy.
------
They weren't tryin got kill Dimiglio necessarily, they wanted to let him know his plan failed. Killing a boss just causes too much trouble, it was an intimidation attempt.
Submitted by Coleslaw_Murphy (user info) at 2006-06-21 11:49:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Linkwhore on a series post? Series posts don't get hits, newb_face.
BTW, Axolotl, I'm out of the loop on the whole ".97", ".96", ... ".77" thing after your name. What's that about?
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2006-06-21 11:46:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
very nice.
they called the hospital because the guy they were about to kill had a heart attack?
sketchy.
Submitted by awesome_face (user info) at 2006-06-21 11:32:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Yeah that happened to me a few times too.
Oh yeah...the post.
be right back.
http://www.ubersite.com/m/89434
LINKWHORE!!!
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-06-21 11:27:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Not this again...Uber's not letting me attach a picture.