Authors: Myles (Mickey) Golde
“Okay, get back to me by noon tomorrow. And one more thing, what do you know about Rabin’s wife? She decided to contact me here and I’m curious about why.”
“Was that her a little while ago?”
“Yeah, and I’m not happy about that. I wouldn’t have talked to her if I knew why she busted in here the way she did.”
Freed laughed, shaking his head. “Is that what Sandra was so fired up about?”
Brown smiled. “She was ready to tackle her when I came out of my office and I told her it was okay. But Rabin’s wife surprised the hell out of me when she explained what she’d come for,” he said. “And you know how much I like surprises,” he added sarcastically.
“What did she want from you?””
Brown shrugged, frowning.
Freed put his hands in his pockets and cocked his head. “Why didn’t you have her thrown out?”
“Ordinarily I wouldn’t have let her in, but I did remember seeing her before. It turned out it was at Jai Alai a few years ago when I met with her husband and Sal Farina. I think you were there too.”
“I think I remember the meeting but not her.”
“Got to hand it to her, she has a lotta guts, showing up here,” Brown smiled tightly. “She is certainly some kind of woman. Did you see her?”
“No, what about her?”
“She’s a sexy looking blonde, about five three, who looks taller in spike heels, and when she turned to leave, I couldn’t believe that ass,” Brown chuckled. “You gotta wonder what she looks like under that tight slack outfit.”
Paul’s eyebrows shot up, then he just smiled. Backing toward the door, he said, “It’s funny you should mention it. I’ve heard that before from a few guys who’ve met her, that she’s a real knockout. I also heard she threw her husband out a few times. I’ll see what else I can find out and get back to you tomorrow around noon.”
Paul’s report wasn’t good. “Rabin’s been stalling Sal for weeks and missed several payments. He’s also disappeared once or twice for a few days and Sal heard he was nosing around in Miami for some kind of deal. The other thing is that the Colombian who set him up is bad a bad actor who is being investigated for the murder of another drug dealer.
Brown nodded without saying anything when Freed finished. He did, however, show more than a little interest when he got to the part about Shirley and told him that he thought both Howie and his lawyer had advised her against coming to see him. The speculation that her marriage to Howie was somewhat rocky and that the police had been to the house on more than one occasion when he had knocked her around; also interested him as did the information that their only son was away at a fancy college. Brown merely nodded, thinking she had a lot of nerve showing up at his office in person after being warned not to. He liked that. ,
By the time Shirley arrived later the next day, he found that he could think of little else than seeing her. Once again, she came in looking like she had just stepped out of a fashion magazine in a light gray business suit with a tight skirt ending mid-knee and high heels, which immediately caught his attention. He liked that. Most women in Florida were more casual, wearing slacks and neat looking tops. Nothing about her was flashy, everything, including her simple jewelry and makeup, were high class. This time she sat across from him at his desk and when she talked, she looked directly at him, speaking with a confidence that he seldom had seen in women.
He couldn’t believe that she could be married to someone like Rabin. Even though Brown didn’t really know him, he knew the type of guys that ran operations for Sal Farina. They did not have wives as sharp as Shirley Rabin.
Before he could say anything, she swallowed deeply, clutching her purse tightly in front of her and said “Mr. Brown, I know I barged in here yesterday. And I apologize.”
He held up his hand, smiling. “Forget it, I know you were upset.”
“Thank you,” she said, and sighed. With a sheepish grin, she tilted her head. “There’s something I need to confess. I told the old sergeant at the lock-up in Miami that you said I should go there to talk to Howie.”
His grin widened. “You did what? Who was it, a thin bald guy by the name of Ogilvey?”
“Yeah, he was very nice,” she said with a small giggle as she felt herself relax.
“You’re pretty determined, aren’t you?” he laughed.
“Let’s say I’m desperate and don’t believe my husband is involved in something this stupid. He’s no angel, but he’s always made a living and managed to stay out of serious trouble,” she said; a hint of a smile starting as she watched the way he listened quietly while looking directly at her.
Leaning forward, Brown suddenly became serious. “I think he’s in more trouble this time,” he replied. “It seems he went off on his own and got mixed up with the wrong people which led to an arrest when he got caught red handed in a drug deal.”
Shirley looked away and then turned to face him, starting to respond.
Jack held up his hand. “I told you we have nothing to do with drugs and have cautioned everyone associated with our organization that we will not help them if they do not respect our wishes.”
Taking a deep breath, Shirley responded quietly, “I’m sure it’s a mistake. I understand about the loans and the gambling, even the prostitution, but Howie would never mess with drugs.”
“Look Mrs. Rabin, I’d like to help you.”
“There’s a but coming right now, isn’t there?” she interrupted.
“Yeah,” he said with a small nod. “We can’t be involved, but I know Sam Petrillo. He’s a good lawyer and if anyone can help him, I’m sure he can.”
Shirley lowered her eyes and looked away.
He leaned back, “You know I was upset with you yesterday, for barging in here. I can’t allow you to contact me about your husband’s arrest anymore, or at least until the dust settles in his case and we know more, but and yes, this is another but, I like you and admire your guts.”
Holding back a smile, Shirley looked at him again. “I apologized for that. I know it was wrong, but somehow I have to help him. I’ve also got find some way to pay off ninety thousand dollars.”
He nodded in agreement.
“Hey you’re a big business guy, maybe you can help me in the real estate business. I’m good and work hard. I know I can make money
for you
.”
He grinned. “I don’t think so, my people handle that. Let me think though, maybe I can figure something out.”
With her hands knotted into tight fists in her lap, she looked down. “Talking about real estate, I’m worried people will steer clear of me because of my husband’s problems.”
They sat quietly for a few moments, she tensely searching her purse for car keys, wondering what happens now.
He leaned back seeing how distraught she was and wanting to
sooth her
.
Standing she reached for his hand, “I have to go now. Thank you for listening. This is very hard for me. I’ve got a lot to think about.
“How about joining me for dinner, “he asked impulsively with a small smile.
“Mr Brown….uh, I don’t know,” she said, her mouth remaining slightly open as she hesitated..
“Come on, it will take your mind off your troubles. I know a great place not far from here.”
When they arrived, Luigi, the owner of the small Italian restaurant bearing his name, greeted Jack Brown warmly. The waiters, the busboys and the bartender all knew him by name too, and Shirley watched as he addressed them each with a personal greeting, making inquiries about their families. When he politely introduced her, it made her feel special in a way that she hadn’t experienced since her early days with Howie in Fort Lauderdale.
Luigi escorted them to a table and helped Shirley with her chair, asking, “the usual Mr. B.? And how about you Mrs. Rabin, what can I get for you to drink?”
After acknowledging his normal vodka martini and ordering a cabernet at Shirley’s request, he asked her if he could order for both of them because he knew the menu well and wanted to surprise her. Relaxing and looking around the restaurant, she agreed with a smile.
The lights were low and the walls were a deep shade of green with pictures of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and other Italian celebrities. The fragrance of fresh garlic wafting from the kitchen made her mouth water. Sipping her wine, she took in the old world atmosphere and listened to the staff speaking to each other in Italian but switching to heavily accented English as they stopped by the table to laugh and chat with Jack Brown, who made sure to include her in each conversation.
The large portions of food were outstanding. Luigi hovered over them and they were delighted as each course was delivered with a flourish and an explanation of the preparation. A small tomato and onion salad was followed, by a platter of thin slices of veal and eggplant in a parmesan sauce and another of yellowtail Snapper prepared with a lemon wine sauce. All were delicately seasoned, and very tasty. The Chianti he ordered had a rich taste as well.
“Are we expecting company,” she laughed.
“Just enjoy, I don’t want to hurt Luigi’s feelings. Do what I do, move the food around on your plate so it looks like you’re eating more and don’t worry your mother isn’t around to insist you clean your plate because the people in Europe are starving.”
“Your mother said that too?”
“Didn’t all Jewish mothers say that?”
By the time they got to the coffee, Shirley had eaten so much that she felt like she would burst. But she was laughing. “I hope you don’t eat this way all the time,” she said, leaning back in her chair.
“Are you kidding?” he replied. “No, I don’t, but I haven’t the heart to stop Luigi from showing off. Normally I just have a salad and a small dish of pasta. But I figured you would enjoy having some good food and a few laughs after the last couple of days.”
“That’s true,” Shirley said, and felt suddenly sad.
Sensing her change of mood, Jack said, “I understand that you’re from Chicago. You know, I’m from there originally. Of course, I’m older than you and I left right after the war to come here.”
“Really?” said Shirley, setting down her coffee spoon and smiling. “What a small world. Did you come down here to work?”
“I went to the University of Florida on the GI Bill,” he said.
“Do you ever make it back to Chicago?”
“No, I changed my name and never went back.”
“Oh” she said, “and what was your name then, Mr. Brown?”
“Well, at Marshall High School I was Jacob Brownstein. Graduated in 1943 and was drafted into the army two months later. By the way, call me Jack.”
“You know what? I like Jacob. Do you mind?”
“That’s funny; my Ma and Pa always called me that. To my sisters, I was always Jake, the baby brother to three older girls.” Taking a sip of his espresso, he nodded once. “No I don’t mind. I like it.”
The conversation went on, mostly about growing up in Chicago and some Jewish geography, but between the age difference and the fact that he had left the city so many years before, they didn’t make any connections. But by the time he drove back to her car, shook her hand and said goodnight, they both laughed, acknowledging that it was like they were old friends. .
On the way home, Jack couldn’t get her out of his mind. What the hell was this woman doing to him? It had been years since he thought this way about someone other than his wife. He loved Wendy and his daughters. It wasn’t like it was when they first married, but he still loved her and she still shared his bed even though he had slept with many women over the years. Shirley Rabin, however was different and exciting.
As she was preparing for bed, Shirley was surprised to find herself humming and feeling happier than she had for a long time. Sure, she had a lot of troubles, but she would bet her last dollar that Jack Brown was going to help her forget them.
Shirley hadn’t talked to Jack Brown for a week. In the meantime, the only news she’d had from Howie was bad. He was being held at the Dade County Jail and because he was considered a flight risk, bail had been denied. Sam Petrillo was trying to plead out the case, but the District Attorney was getting so much publicity about the big drug bust, he wasn’t about to let Howie off easy.
Thursday shortly after noon; Shirley had just put some laundered bed sheets in the linen closet and was going into the kitchen when she saw a four door black Cadillac pull up in her driveway. Hoping it was Sam Petrillo, she ran to the door but stopped short when she saw Sal Farina, exit the car. A narrow brimmed straw hat was pushed back on his head and looked comical with his striped short sleeved golf shirt and baggy pants. His stocky brute sidekick was with him.
She wanted to run for the phone but couldn’t do so without walking past the window, so she hid behind the door, hoping that her neighbors wouldn’t spot this pair of thugs arriving at her house.
He pounded on the door. “Open up Shirley, it’s Sal!”
He turned back to his bull necked partner shaking his head when she didn’t respond.
Softening his voice, he tried again. “How ya doin’ Shirley? Calmed down yet?”
She held her breath, debating how to handle him.
“C’mon, I know you’re in there, I can see your car. Open up, I won’t bite.”
She shuddered, hearing how close he was, with only the door separating them.
“Go away, Sal. I don’t wanta talk to you.”
“Look Baby, I ain’t goin’ away and if you don’t open up, I’ll have Joey kick the door in.”
Peeking through a gap in the drapes she could see his car blocking hers in the driveway. Joey, in a black T-shirt, was standing alongside it, his arms crossed over his bulging belly.
Slowly, she fastened the short chain lock and opened the door. Sal, with his hand on the door knob, laughed while looking through the three-inch opening.
“Open the door, Shirley. You don’t want the neighbors wondering what we’re doing here, do you?”
He stepped back while she undid the chain. Then waved for Joey to follow him and they shuffled in as she closed the door.
“First time I ever seen you without high heels,” Sal sneered, nodding with approval at Shirley’s blue jeans, pale blue halter top and loafers. “You look good in jeans. Like a real broad.”