Final Confession (19 page)

McAleney was represented by Attorney Julius Sobil. After agreeing to waive the readings of the two indictments, McAleney was given a suspended sentence by Judge Brogna and he walked out of the court a free man. Ten hours later he walked into McGrail's. “Look who's here,” Angelo said as he spotted McAleney. McAleney went to where Phil and Angelo were sitting and extended his hand to Phil. “What's this?” Phil asked. “I just want to say thanks and to apologize for everything. I guess I screwed up,” McAleney said slowly. Phil looked at Angelo, who just shrugged, and then extended his hand to McAleney. “No hard feelings,” Phil said. “Let's just put the whole thing behind us, all right?” “Thanks, Phil. You're a square guy, like I always heard. Can I buy you a drink?” he asked. Phil nodded, and McAleney went off to get Phil and Angelo a couple of beers.

“Whadda ya doing? I thought you couldn't stand the guy,” Angelo said to Phil.

“I just want to plant a seed.” Phil smiled.

When McAleney returned, the conversation got back to Tilley. “What kind of car does Tilley drive?” Phil asked. McAleney asked Phil why he wanted to know. “I just thought I saw him riding by Fenway, but I wasn't sure it was him.” Phil smiled again. “A green Cadillac,” McAleney told him. “Naw, I guess it wasn't him,” Phil said, and laughed.

Phil asked McAleney how everything went in court, as if he didn't know. “Unbelievable,” McAleney said. “My lawyer was great, he got me off with a suspended sentence. I was sure Brogna was going to send me away, but my lawyer worked miracles.” Phil just shook his head. “How much did he charge you?” Angelo asked. “Ten grand, but it was worth it to get off with a suspended.” McAleney smiled.

When McAleney went to the bathroom, Phil said to Angelo, “That poor prick is really stupid. He could've had Harpo Marx
for his lawyer and he would've gotten the same sentence, but he'll never know it. What a fool.” Phil and Angelo left before McAleney returned.

“I never saw him again after that night at McGrail's. It's a shame what booze can do to people. He was a squared-away guy in the joint, but the booze soaked his brain, and he let people like Tilley and that lawyer take advantage of him. It's too bad.”

Doing business with McAleney, who shot off his mouth to Tilley, was a costly mistake for Phil as well. He'd had to pay “the bagman” $50,000 of his own money and he lost $25,000 worth of valuable equipment in the basement. And even more of a loss, partly due to Bowman's letting off the Kay Jewelers robbers, came five years later. In 1971 there was a major investigation of superior court judges and bail bondsmen. Bowman and Baker were both investigated and consequently these men who had helped Phil over the years became useless to him. Phil, still in hiding at the time, said of his payees, “I read all about Baker and Bowman and I actually felt bad for them. They were in business for a long time. Shit, they were a better team than the Red Sox. I always wondered what Sergeant Doherty felt like when he watched the hearings.”

Phil never found out. He neither saw nor heard from Doherty again, which was fine with him.

A
MONTH AFTER THE LAST
of the Kay Jewelers thieves was given his suspended sentence, Phil Cresta began thinking about a bigger heist. When, in June 1968, the Cresta team got news of this potential new job, they decided they needed help from one of the best setup and escape men in the business. Tony and Angelo suggested Red Kelley.

Six years earlier, in mid-August 1962, Jack “Red” Kelley had pulled off the largest mail robbery in Massachusetts history. Known as the Great Plymouth Mail Robbery, it made headlines from coast to coast. The banks on Cape Cod were, at the time, transporting their excess cash to the Federal Reserve Bank in Boston—by way of an ordinary mail truck. When they started, they used state police to escort the money, but by July someone decided they weren't needed. Instead, two postal employees would ride the truck: one a driver, the other a guard. Both would carry .38s. Thanks to that poor decision, the Plymouth mail robbers netted $1,551,277 in a daylight holdup. They were never prosecuted, and none of the money was recovered. Kelley's indictment didn't come up until 1967, the year before Cresta paid off “the bagman” for the Kay Jewelers job. And,
along with that of other Plymouth mail robbery suspects, including Patricia Diaferio's, Kelley's indictment was filed away without ever going to trial, owing to “insufficient evidence.” These events were still fresh in Cresta's mind in June 1968.

“Just be careful what you tell him,” Phil told Angelo before that first meeting with Kelley, which was set up by an intermediary. “Anyone who's dealt with Kelley in the past has wound up either in the can or dead—and not from old age.”

Phil was not stretching the truth. Within two and a half years of the Plymouth caper, five men with direct knowledge of the Plymouth robbery were found murdered around Boston.

Robert Rasmussen, of Dedham, a well-known wise guy, was found in Wilmington on January 21, 1965, with a single .38 bullet in the back of his head. Rasmussen's body was dressed only in underwear, black socks, and a necktie. Several days earlier, another local wise guy fresh out of Walpole, a Jackie Murray, of the South End, was found dead on Tinnean Beach. On May 4, 1964, Francis “Frankie” Benjamin, of Dorchester, was found fully clothed, but without a head, by Boston Police. His head was never found. Leo Lowry, of South Boston, also an ex-con recently released from Walpole, was shot to death and his throat slit in Pembroke on September 3, 1964. And on December 28, 1964, George E. Ash, of Brookline, was shot and stabbed to death in the South End of Boston. None of these murders were prosecuted.

Phil had known the five victims from his own Walpole days, and he was leery of working with a thief who didn't stop at paying people off to stay out of prison. On the other hand, risk was part of Phil's business. And except for McAleney, Phil had always come out on top when using accomplices for crimes.

So, though uneasy, Phil agreed to Tony's and Angelo's meeting with Red Kelley on a June afternoon at McGrail's. Kelley, Angelo was told, couldn't wait to brag to the Cresta guys about his big score in Plymouth. Though none of the Cresta team wanted to hear the story again, they were willing to let Kelley
talk in order to get his help on this new potential job of theirs. Kelley was still considered one of the best at what he did—when he wasn't talking.

True to form, Kelley came in and had a few drinks with Tony and Angelo. He wouldn't listen to what Angelo and Tony were proposing until he'd told his tale about Plymouth.

“We clocked the job for at least six months. We even knew what time those guys took a shit,” Kelley bragged. “We had the whole job timed for under four minutes if everything went all right—and it went better than all right.”

Angelo and Tony listened politely.

After a long swig of beer Kelley told Tony and Angelo, “We were parked across the street from Clark Road in Plymouth. We saw the mail truck approach and everything went into motion. As soon as the truck turned onto Clark Road, one of our guys, who was dressed as a Plymouth police officer, ran over and put a detour sign on the road right behind the truck. We wanted that vehicle to be the last on Clark Road until the real cops arrived.

“The driver had no clue. He drove for two and a quarter miles from where the detour sign was. There we'd staged a two-car accident, making it impossible to get by. In case the mail-truck guys got suspicious and tried to bolt when they saw the accident, we had a woman standing in the middle of the road, acting as if she'd been hurt.” Kelley grinned and drank some more beer. “Now who's going to suspect an injured woman, who's pretty cute as well, to pose any kind of threat? Ha! They almost fell over each other trying to get out of the truck to help.

“The minute they got out of that truck, they knew they'd made a mistake—a one-and-a-half-million-dollar mistake.” Kelley was grinning from ear to ear by this time. He was also oblivious to who was around to hear him, which made both Angelo and Tony nervous.

“He kept getting louder and louder, and he wasn't telling us about his kid's First Holy Communion either,” Tony said later. “We should've walked away right there, and never looked back.”

But they didn't, and Kelley went on. “Once those two guards' shoes hit the pavement they were surrounded with heavy fire-power. They were smart, though, and did what we told them. We handcuffed them to one of the two stolen cars we'd used to stage the accident. Two of our guys, who were already dressed as armored car drivers, got in and drove the truck to a spot in Randolph, which we had designated as the drop-off spot. It took us about ten minutes to unload the bags.” Kelley laughed so hard he almost choked. Then he excused himself to go to the bathroom.

Angelo said to Tony, “I think Phil's right. This guy's a loose cannon. Let's clam up and tell him we just wanted to hear the Plymouth story firsthand. He's so caught up in himself he won't care. And then we'll be outta this.”

But to Tony and Angelo's consternation, Kelley wasn't through. He brought three more beers back with him, and continued. “Those postal assholes and the feds spent more money than we robbed trying to pinch us,” he said, laughing. “They charged us with armed robbery of mail, putting the lives of postal employees in jeopardy, and possession of firearms. I said to my lawyer, F. Lee Bailey, ‘No shit. When ya rob someone, you better put their lives in jeopardy or your own'll be over.' … You guys should call Bailey, just in case you need him someday.”

Angelo looked at Tony and shook his head, meaning, “
We
both know how much Phil hates Bailey, but don't tell Kelley.”

After what seemed like forever, Kelley said, “But here I am: safe, sound, and rich. The indictments have been dropped. The feds never recovered a cent of that money and they never will.”

“Speaking of money,” Angelo said, deciding to say what they'd come to say and seizing an opening, “we have a proposition for you.”

Kelley leaned back confidently. “It better be six figures or I'm walking outta here.”

“It's six figures, don't worry, Mr. Big-time,” Tony said disgustedly.

Angelo got to the point. “We have reason to believe that a guard who works for Brink's is looking to make a deal.”

The word
Brink's
made Kelley sit up. Like Phil, he thought of hitting Brink's as the ultimate crime, if they could pull it off. Brink's rolled with heavy money, and having an inside guy meant everything. And besides, the Brink's robbery of 1950 was still being talked about. He was all ears.

They outlined the job and asked if he was interested. “I have to eyeball your inside man first and have a sit-down with him,” Kelley responded.

“Fair enough,” both Tony and Angelo replied.

They shook hands and parted.

That night Tony and Angelo met Phil in the South End and told him that Kelley was in. Then Tony said, “But, geez, what a flake. When he was giving the details of the hit, it looked like he was gonna have an orgasm.”

“We have to be very careful of him,” Phil said. “He scares the shit out of me. No face-to-face meetings with that Brink's guard, okay? That's why we're bringing Kelley in. If this goes down bad, that guard only knows Kelley. And if Kelley goes down, fuck him; he won't be missed.”

Angelo set up the first meeting between Kelley and the guard through a third party. Kelley met the guard, Andrew DeLeary, one evening in the Mede's Log Cabin Bar in Revere. DeLeary was told to wear a Red Sox hat and a blue jacket because all the transactions had so far been carried out by phone and nobody knew what he looked like.

Angelo picked up Kelley at his house in Watertown and drove him to Revere. He waited in his car as Kelley went in and sat in a booth facing the door. About five minutes later Angelo saw a station wagon enter the Log Cabin parking lot. Out of it climbed a man wearing a Red Sox hat and a blue jacket. Andrew DeLeary looked around a couple of times before he climbed the stairs that led into the bar.

Angelo sat there for about forty minutes, praying that Kelley didn't screw this thing up. It seemed like the longest forty minutes
of his life. At one point Angelo was tempted to go in and watch what was going on, but he knew Phil would be angry if he let himself be seen.

DeLeary finally came out, went to his car without looking around, and drove off. A couple of minutes later Kelley walked out and got into Angelo's car. Angelo asked him what he thought.

Kelley wasn't sure the man could be trusted. “He seems … scared,” Kelley told Angelo.

“The guy is a legit guy! Of course he's fucking scared,” Angelo angrily replied. “He's gonna rob the joint he works for. Wouldn't you be nervous?”

“I guess,” Kelley said, unconvinced. Then he added, “Oh yeah, he wants to meet again next week.”

On the next two Wednesday nights, Kelley and DeLeary met at the Log Cabin. At the third meeting they finalized a deal. By then Kelley felt comfortable enough with DeLeary to give the go-ahead to Angelo.

The next piece of the puzzle would be to determine what Brink's truck to hit, and when. Phil cased a bank in Burlington that was on DeLeary's Brink's route. But it was too close to a police station. DeLeary then gave Kelley information about a stop in the Natick Shopping Mall. He told Kelley that the truck would have in excess of $150,000 when it got to the mall. Kelley cased the place for a couple of weeks, but didn't like the setup of the location.

Phil, Tony, and Angelo were getting frustrated. They had a meeting with Kelley in which they voiced their displeasure. A couple of days later Kelley called, excited. “I think I got it,” he said. On his own, Kelley had clocked an armored truck run that included pickups at major restaurants and hospitals, then finished by picking up at all three major department stores in downtown Boston.

Phil also became enthusiastic when he heard about this particular truck. It was mid-October by this time, and he looked at Tony and uttered but one word, “Christmas.” From that point
on, only that job occupied their minds. They decided that Saturday, the heaviest shopping day of the week, as dusk was falling, was the time to hit.

Kelly asked DeLeary about the run. “Yeah, that's a lucrative route. The best of the Saturday trucks,” the guard replied. “We call it the Saturday-three run because it picks up from all three big department stores. I don't know who drives it, though.”

Kelley said he'd seen one of the three guards carrying a white pearl-handled revolver.

“Oh yeah?” DeLeary said. “I know him. That's Smokey—Richard Haines. I'll find out who the other guards are.”

Kelley then asked DeLeary how much money this particular truck would be carrying after its downtown department store pickups.

DeLeary estimated anywhere from half a mil to a million dollars, given the season, but of course the figure would go down after Christmas. Kelley made notes and promised to call DeLeary in a few days.

The team clocked Brink's truck 6280 every Saturday for a month. It started in the morning at Joseph's, a posh restaurant. Then it went to Children's Hospital, the Harvard Coop, and out to Brigham Circle, where there were several hospitals and a supermarket. One of but a handful of trucks that picked up on Saturday, on this particular route it had three guards, as Kelley had observed. Phil studied their mannerisms, their reactions, when and where they ate, how long they took, and how long they spent at each stop on their route. The three guards on 6280 seemed a little more lax than many, making Phil more and more sure this was the truck to hit. They almost always took a break at the same tavern in South Station, then at a diner on State Street, and their last stop of the day was always the same: Downey & Judge's, a bar on Canal Street, near the Union Oyster House. The team thought that might be the best place to hit the truck.

On two consecutive Saturdays Kelley and the team watched two of the guards leave the truck and go into Downey & Judge's,
near the Boston Garden. The third guard, alone, stayed in the back of the truck, which was locked, but the team saw no sign that he ever bolted either of the front doors. Kelley, as careful as his reputation, clocked the scene from every conceivable angle, including from the elevated North Station MBTA platform. He wanted to see what kind of view any waiting riders might have of the robbery they planned.

Despite the temptation of the big score and Kelley's apparent care, Phil continued to have mixed feelings about Kelley. He just didn't trust the guy, especially with such a big haul. So Phil told Tony and Angelo that one of them had to sit in on all further meetings between Kelley and DeLeary. “I know it puts one of us in jeopardy, but we have to know Kelley's being square with us. If we have to, we'll kill Kelley and DeLeary after this is over.”

Tony and Angelo were silent. Then Angelo said, “I'll go. I think Kelley trusts me.”