The cinema of my dreams – It all started in Venice – Episode 22

A very interesting dinner party

…

Larry saw them first, and from his stance, and expression, it looked to me like he had seen a ghost.

It was not a ghost, but two women, one easily identified as Cecilia in a khaki soldier uniform, with the sniper rifle over her shoulder, and another, and perhaps the more interesting of the two, Jaime.

I heard Larry mutter under his breath, “What the fuck is she doing here.”

Whilst I would not have used the same words, I did wonder why she was here.

They both stopped at the threshold of the patio. Curiously, the only two people not fazed by either presence seemed to be Brenda and Larry’s mother.

“I see the gang’s all here.” Jaime had a smile on her face like it was a party and she was late. She looked at me. “You can still surprise me. It was a good thing I turned up late otherwise you’re friend here might have had a problem.”

“I had them covered,” Cecilia said, a little defiant.

A close inspection showed Cecilia was rather disheveled and sporting a few abrasions. The question was who she had been scrapping with.

As I swiveled towards Larry, Jaime said, “the rest of your crew are feeling somewhat sorry for themselves, and, last I saw, are being taken away by the local police.”

Cecilia came over to stand next to me.

Larry asked, “What were you going to do with that weapon?”

“Shoot you if all else failed. I had the shot.”

“Let me guess. Jaime convinced you not to.”

“Only because she wants to do it herself. Fine with me, because I hate shooting people. Even scum like you.”

I was not sure if Larry was upset over being labeled scum, or if she had been prepared to shoot him. I was still trying to understand what was happening.

Brenda looked in the mother’s direction, “Can you take the children into the other room. We need some grownup time.”

Whilst none of them wanted to leave the room, curious at the turn of events, especially the son, they reluctantly joined the mother and went out of the room.

It took a minute, maybe a little longer to finally figure out the dynamic in the room. There had been several, I wouldn’t call them furtive but knowing, looks between Brenda and Jaime, not as if they were foes, but friends. The same could be said for Larry’s mother, and putting the pieces together I realized I had been used as a pawn in a plan to isolate Larry.

Although I didn’t think it was likely, it seemed to me that Jaime had made overtures to Larry rather than the other way around, gained his trust, got him to put his stuff in her warehouse, informed on him, and gotten herself raided so she had a degree of plausible deniability. That would give her the opportunity to shift the blame to Larry, earning him a place on the most wanted list, and being out of the country at the time was a bonus. Before all this, either Brenda or his mother had arranged for him to come and see her, thus effectively isolating him from his organization, and coincidentally more guilty.

So, what was the reason for me attending the interview, other than to reinforce Larry’s criminality, and use Rodby to fire up the local police? How could she know about Rodby … unless, of course, she had been speaking to Larry’s mother to whom I let slip was interested in her son.

Then the timing of all this happening was of interest because they could all have moved on this ten years ago right after Trevor’s untimely death, but, I guess, they had to wait until the inheritance came due. The death of Larry’s brother, and the upcoming distribution of his father’s assets, seemed to be the catalyst for what now appeared to be a bloodless coup.

And with Larry out of the way, it would all go the Brenda, or perhaps the mother. The terms of the will would make very interesting reading.

The next question was whether Jaime was taking over, with the consent of both the mother and daughter-in-law? Or was the daughter-in-law taking over from the incompetent son? Or would they all be running the operation together?

The questions were piling up.

“I can see this situation is somewhat perplexing for both you and Larry,” Brenda said to me.

“I’ve just been reading between the lines, and if it is what I think it is, then it’s well played.”

“You have nothing to fear from us,” Jaime said. “You, too, had a problem, and Christina wanted to do something for you after you helped her out of a tricky situation. Things will be different from now on, and you might be interested to know I made arrangements with the Detective Inspector as you suggested.”

I was watching Larry the whole time and he was definitely at a loss, not quite comprehending what was happening simply because to him it would be incomprehensible that women were capable of doing anything.

Brenda added, “Larry has been staggering from disaster to disaster, but there is only so much one can put up with before something had to be done. Jaime came to see me about a year ago and proposed a mutually advantageous merger, and that she would take care of Larry. We let him think he was running things but really, he hasn’t had a say in the business for about six months now. The old ways are no longer useful, violence only brings attention to our business, the attention we don’t need or want. Sorry Larry, but you are surplus to requirements.”

Larry had, over the course of the last few minutes looked both astonished, angry, about to unleash a torrent of abuse, and appearing to think twice about it. To be honest, I could not imagine what he was thinking.

But it did make his obsession of wanting to wreak vengeance on me a rather sorry footnote to a long and useless career in crime. I could almost want to believe his wife had sidelined him out of pity, but a practical person would say it was out of self-preservation. How he managed to keep out of jail was a minor miracle.

But it was true, he had been leading them down a very dangerous path, bringing unwanted attention to his own organization, and now, in the case of Jaime Meyers, others too. What I saw now was a new brand of criminality, and it was going to be a lot harder to deal with.

“This is a joke, of course,” he finally said. “Who put you up to it, tell me who it is, and I make him regret the day he was born.”

It was still inconceivable to him that Brenda could be smarter than him.

“And that, Larry, is exactly the reason you have to go.” It was a statement delivered by Jaime in a manner that sent shivers down my spine.

To me, she said, “as much as I would like you to stay and get to know you better, I think it’s time you and your friend left. The less you know about what happens next, the better for you. Just be happy in the knowledge that your problem will be dealt with, swiftly and permanently.”

“Then I can go back to retirement?”

“Definitely. I am sorry to hear about your recent loss. You can tell Juliet when you see her that her brother has been released, and she is no longer obligated to Larry. Tell her very few people get a second chance.”

“Indeed.” I looked at Cecilia.

“Let’s go. I’ve got an audition for that mercenary role tomorrow, and I think I know exactly how I’m going to play it.”

“Then until we meet again,” I said to Jaime.

“That is not very likely.”

“In my experience, never say never.”

Searching for locations: New York from a different perspective

It is an amazing coincidence that both times we have flown into New York, it is the day after the worst snow storms.

The first time, we were delayed out of Los Angeles and waited for hours before the plane left. We had a free lunch and our first introduction to American hamburgers and chips. Wow!

I had thought we had left enough time with connections to make it in time for New Year’s Eve, like four to five hours before. As it turned out, we arrived in New York at 10:30, and thanks to continual updating with our limousine service, he was there to take us to the hotel.

The landing was rough, the plane swaying all over the place and many of the passengers were sick. Blankets were in short supply!

We made it to the hotel, despite snow, traffic, and the inevitable problems associated with NYE in New York, with enough time to throw our baggage in the room, put on our anti cold clothes, and get out onto the streets.

We could not go to Times Square but finished up at Central Park with thousands of others, in time to see the ball drop on a big screen, exchange new year’s greetings, and see the fireworks.

Then, as luck would have it, we were able to get an authentic New York hotdog, just before the police moved the vendor on, and our night was complete.

The second time we were the last plane out of Los Angeles to New York. After waiting and waiting, we boarded, and then started circling the airport waiting for takeoff permission. We stopped once to refuel, and then the pilot decided we were leaving.

This time we took our eldest granddaughter, who was 9 at the time, and she thought it was an adventure. It was.

When we landed, we were directed to an older part of the airport, a disused terminal. We were not the only plane to land, at about one in the morning, but one of about four. The terminal building filled very quickly, and we were all waiting for baggage. The baggage belts broke so there were a lot of porters bring the baggage in by hand.

One part of the terminal was just a sea of bags. To find ours our granddaughter, who, while waiting, sat on top of the cabin baggage playing her DSI until the announcement our bags were available, walked across the top of the bags till she found them. Thankfully no one was really looking in her direction.

Once again we kept our limousine service updated, and, once we knew what terminal we were at, he came to pick us up. This time we arrived some days before NYE, so there was not so much of a rush. We got to the hotel about 3:30 in the morning, checked in, and then went over the road to an all-night diner where we ordered hamburgers and chips.

And a Dr. Pepper.

Searching for locations: New York, USA

After arriving latish from Toronto, and perhaps marginally disappointed that while in Toronto, the ice hockey didn’t go our way, we slept in.

Of course, the arrival was not without its own problems. The room we were allocated was on the 22nd floor and was quite smallish. Not a surprise, but we needed space for three, and with the fold-out bed, it was tight but livable.

Except…

We needed the internet to watch the Maple Leafs ice hockey game. We’d arrive just in time to stream it to the tv.

But…

There was no internet. It was everywhere else in the hotel except our floor.

First, I went to the front desk and they directed me to call tech support.

Second, we called tech support and they told us that the 22nd-floor router had failed and would get someone to look at it.

When?

It turns out it didn’t seem to be a priority. Maybe no one else on the floor had complained

Third, I went downstairs and discussed the lack of progress with the night duty manager, expressing disappointment with the lack of progress.

I also asked if they could not provide the full service that I would like a room rate reduction or a privilege in its place as compensation.

He said he would check it himself.

Fourth, after no further progress, we called the front desk to advise there was still no internet. This time we were asked if we wanted a room on another floor, where the internet is working. We accepted the offer.

The end result, a slightly larger, less cramped room, and the ability to watch the last third of the Maple Leaf’s game. I can’t remember if we won.

We all went to bed reasonably happy.

After all, we didn’t have to get up early to go up or down to breakfast because it was not included in the room rate, a bone of contention considering the cost.

I’ll be booking with them directly next time, at a somewhat cheaper rate, a thing I find after using a travel wholesaler to book it for me.

As always every morning while Rosemary gets ready, I go out for a walk and check out where we are.

It seems we are practically in the heart of theaterland New York. Walk one way or the other you arrive at 7th Avenue or Broadway.

Walk uptown and you reach 42nd Street and Times Square, little more than a 10-minute leisurely stroll. On the way down Broadway, you pass a number of theatres, some recognizable, some not.

Times Square is still a huge collection of giant television screens advertising everything from confectionary to TV shows on the cable networks.

A short walk along 42nd street takes you to the Avenue of the Americas and tucked away, The Rockefeller center and its winter ice rink.

A few more steps take you to 5th Avenue and the shops like Saks of Fifth Avenue, shops you could one day hope to afford to buy something.

In the opposite direction, over Broadway and crossing 8th Avenue is an entrance to Central Park. The approach is not far from what is called the Upper West Side, home to the rich and powerful.

Walk one way in the park, which we did in the afternoon, takes you towards the gift shop and back along a labyrinth of laneways to 5th Avenue. It was a cold, but pleasant, stroll looking for the rich and famous, but, discovering, they were not foolish enough to venture out into the cold.

Before going back to the room, we looked for somewhere to have dinner and ended up in Cassidy’s Irish pub. There was a dining room down the back and we were one of the first to arrive for dinner service.

The first surprise, our waitress was from New Zealand.

The second, the quality of the food.

I had a dish called Steak Lyonnaise which was, in plain words, a form of mince steak in an elongated patty. It was cooked rare as I like my steak and was perfect. It came with a baked potato.

As an entree, we had shrimp, which in our part of the world are prawns, and hot chicken wings, the sauce is hot and served on the side.

The beer wasn’t bad either. Overall given atmosphere, service, and food, it’s a nine out of ten.

It was an excellent way to end the day.

The cinema of my dreams – It all started in Venice – Episode 21

An Invitation to Dinner

…

I did not go back to the hotel, but instead went home from the airport, half expecting to find Cecilia still there.

She wasn’t, but the lingering scent of her perfume hung in the air as a reminder. I entered if it might stir up Violetta’s ghost because more than once I thought I heard her moving about the house.

It was, of course, my imagination, but just the same it was a slim possibility. I guess talking to her even though she was not there didn’t help.

I had no intention of seeing or talking to Juliet lest she alerted Larry to my visit. It needed to stay anonymous for it to be effective.

A shower, a change of clothes and into the anonymous car that looked like a million others on the road.

Oh, and a little deft driving to lose the car that followed me away from the garage. The Frenchman was persistent, I’ll give him that.

Larry’s mother lived in a mansion overlooking the Mediterranean, and I’d spent a few afternoons on the patio sampling the energy and cheese of a country that knew how to excel in both.

When Violetta first got sick, we had been invited to stay for a few months and she had loved it. It had made her feel better, but in the end, there was no beating cancer that was very aggressively attacking her.

Perhaps it was fitting she took her last breath in the place she loved so much.

I hadn’t been back since, and passing through the gates brought back a flood of sad memories and a tear or two.

Not enough to blur my sight, and take down the two guards Larry had lurking near the gate, supposedly in hiding, with a tranquilizer gun.

I dragged the bodies deeper into the hedgerow. They wouldn’t be waking up for at least 12 hours, time enough to do what I had to.

It was a pleasant but invigoration walk up the hill keeping to the cover the garden provided until I stepped out just in front of the patio, and beyond the open doors the dining room where five people were seated.

“What, not waiting for the guest of honor?” I said, stepping out into full view of the diners.

Two men on the door turned swiftly and both were tranquilized before they could take a step. I turned and looked over my shoulder at the site I thought Cecilia would take, then turned back to see both Larry and his mother out of their seats.

First observation, I didn’t know Larry had three children only two. The son was a replica of him, the girls, both more than ten, were identical twins and like their mother. Once again, I had to wonder why a woman like Brenda would be interested in a man like him.

“What are you doing here?” Larry growled, stopping short of approaching me, eyes on the tranquilizing gun.

The thought crossed my mind that I should just put him to sleep, taken away, to have a less civilized conversation, something he would understand.

“I invited him to dinner. He is an old friend, and you know him as well as I do.”

Her eyes were on the bodyguards on the ground, and Larry, waiting for his reaction. She came over and hugged me. “So nice to see you again.”

“You were in London,” he said tonelessly. It was a statement, not a question.

“Marvels of modern transport. You should stop using leaking rowboats to come and go and embrace the jet age. Sit down Larry, you’re making a scene in front of your family.”

“Who is he dear,” his wife asked as he threw himself back in the chair next to her. The three children looked me over like they would a new toy, the son in particular, with a trademark scowl on his face.

“A policeman of sorts.”

“I didn’t know you were working with the police.”

It was an interesting statement, and if I didn’t know better, it seemed to me she was pushing a button. The look she gave him was priceless.

“Perhaps you and the children should leave the table and let me sort this small problem out.”

“No dear. I want to hear what he has to say.”

He turned to glare at her, a particularly dark expression, whether it was the result of my unexpected arrival or her defiance which I thought was brave under the circumstances, whatever the reason, it showed her to be vastly different from the description of her in the department’s files.

“I told you…”

“You do not raise your voice at me, or anyone, at the dinner table. You also apparently have some explaining to do because when I asked you what happened to your brother, Trevor, you told me the police killed him. I’m assuming that by police you mean in the form of our dining companion who just arrived.”

He looked surprised, no I would say that he was shocked. “You seem remarkably well-informed about something you really know nothing about.” He was showing remarkable restraint because I knew if it was anyone else, they’d be all but dead.

“I know that Trevor told you several times he wanted nothing to do with the business. We used to spend time talking about what he wanted to do with his life and lament the fact you wouldn’t let him. I know you coerced him into running that errand for you because he rang and told me, no asked me, to intervene on his behalf. It seems he knew that there was a traitor in your organization, that he told you his suspicions, but you said it couldn’t possibly be that person. Then when it all went, as he said, to hell in a handbasket, he called me to tell me what happened, and then called your mother, at the behest of your so-called police assassin, and she was talking to her when you arrived. So, Larry, the key question here is, what did you do that took a brother who was alive when you arrived, to dead on arrival at the hospital? You were there, so only you know what happened.”

“I did nothing. He was alive when I put him in the ambulance.”

“Who went with him to the hospital?”

“Jimmy.”

“The person he told you was the traitor. The person you said couldn’t possibly be one. He didn’t go with Trevor to the drop-off, so how did he get there?”

I’ll be honest, I was fascinated, if not hanging on every word. One nuance I did pick up on, was the way she spoke about Trevor told me they had more than just conversations. Had Larry known that also?

“He was not a traitor.”

“And yet you have no explanation as to why he disappeared shortly after Trevor died. Convenient, don’t you think?”

She sat there, face to face, with the man she had married twenty years before, then a relatively naive young woman who knew who he was, but not what he was to become. She didn’t rate highly in the files simply because she purposely stayed out of the limelight, and distanced herself from the business, and Larry’s business associates. I suspected it was to shield her children from the uglier side of the criminal world. Now, I got the impression Larry was trying to induct his son into the business, although only 16, and she was not happy with it or with him.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Less bluster, it was odd to see Larry in a situation where he wasn’t in charge.

“You mean, for once in your life, you don’t have the lies at your fingertips. Let’s leave that for the moment and move on to Jaime Meyers.”

Now he was truly shocked, like a man who just received an umpteen-volt jolt.

“How do you know…” He turned and glared at me.

“Don’t look at me, Larry. I haven’t told anyone about our conversation in London, as per the agreement I made with her. I think you might want to consider the possibility that your wife is not the dumb blonde you tell your friends she is.”

A cat among the pigeons’ statement drew a very dark look from her. “Trevor told me you called me a dumb blonde and I didn’t want to think that was true, but when Elaine told me she overheard Lorenzo talking to his friends using those exact words, I was disappointed.”

That was when Cecilia crashed the party.