Crime and Management, and Other Tall Tales
A Novel
by
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It was a cold evening in February, several years later that Carmine found out what he had to do. He was on a snow-covered fire escape, climbing up the steel ladders to just outside the living room of “Bulova” Johnny’s apartment. He was shivering and sweating at the same time, partly from the cold, and partly at the thought of having to kill Johnny. Carmine didn’t know what Johnny had done to merit the hit and he didn’t ask. The fact that he had never killed anyone was hurting his career and that was what Papa Joe had meant when he said there was one more thing that he needed to do to get accepted and trusted in the “Family.” Under his instructions, Uncle Tony made this Carmine’s hit as a kind of rite of passage. “Carmine, you can’t get nowhere in this business without you kill somebody. You think good. People like you but you ain’t in ‘til after you spill some brains on the floor. So that’s why I’m asking you to do this.” The fire escape was in the alley, facing the brick wall of the next building. The window of Johnny’s apartment was partly covered by a shade that was pulled half way down. Carmine crouched and peered through the lower half of the window exposing as little of his head as possible. The walls of the room were covered with clocks, old and new, tall clocks that stood on the floor, small hanging clocks, and all sizes in between. A wooden worktable was littered with clock and watch mechanisms, some assembled, and some not. Carmine could see Johnny’s hands over the table, prying the face off a turn-of-the century mechanism but he didn’t have a good view of the rest of Johnny. Carmine waited. In five minutes, as his friend Andy and he had planned, the doorbell rang. Johnny picked up a pistol from the table and walked to the hallway, just out of sight. Carmine reached into his coat pocket and fumbled for his handgun. His hand had the peculiar sensation of weakness that he used to get in high school Biology class when the subject was blood and he tried to take notes. He managed clumsily to get the gun out of his pocket. When he looked up, Johnny, followed by Andy, had entered the living room. A surprised and angry Johnny was staring out the window at Carmine. Johnny raised his pistol and pointed it at Carmine’s head. Carmine was holding his gun but his hand was completely weak and he couldn’t pull the trigger. He heard a shot and wondered why nothing hurt. Johnny fell forward, blood gushing from the back of his head. Andy’s gun was smoking. Andy opened the window for Carmine, who climbed in. They both left by the stairs. Don’t worry Carmine,” he said, “as far as the rest the family is concerned, you killed him. What really happened here is our secret.” And he never revealed the truth about this episode. Carmine was on his way upwards in the “family.”A few years later Papa Joe died and, as he had instructed, Carmine inherited the leadership of his Bensonhurst organization. ------------------------------------------------------ Carmine, dressed in his finest Zegna black pinstripe suit, pale blue Versace shirt, and striped Bugatti necktie, steered the Volt west on 56th Street, and then north on 10th Avenue. The top was down, it was sunny and in the 60s, and there were no birds visible overhead. A beautiful, exciting day on which to begin the expansion of the Network. He heard a little clicking sound from behind the dash that he hadn’t heard before and decided he’d get it looked at if it didn’t go away. He parked illegally on Broadway, at 80th Street, across the street from Zabar’s. It was Good Friday, there was very little traffic, and he could afford the ticket if he should get one. Besides, he would only be inside for a few moments. From the bakery/deli counter came the mingled odors of breads and rolls of all sorts. There was only one customer at the counter ahead of him, a short, stout, elderly woman with a babushka and just a trace of mustache and a slightly balding scalp. “From the middle, you should give me. The end of that lox is dried out. Also, only the pink, give me. The brown is feh!” The clerk, with a white apron, knife poised over the lox and a smirk on his face, had endured similar requests dozens of times. “Only pink from the middle, I’ll give you. Don’t worry!” He cut off the end, tossed it into the trash, and began slicing the lox. Adjusting her babushka, “And a small whitefish, not too dried out.” “It’s a smoked fish, lady, they all look dried out on the outside. The inside is deeelishious!” “OK, and you got some salt bagels, but not too salty. My doctor says I shouldn’t eat too much salt.” “Here lady, these are the salt bagels. Lots of salt.” “Look at all that salt. I’m such a good customer and with salt, he wants to kill me! You got some with less salt maybe?” “Lady, I got bagels with salt or I got bagels without salt. I don’t got partly salted bagels.” “Bagels with no salt! Who would eat bagels, no salt? Feh! Give me four, with salt. The extra, I’ll pick off.” “Lady, these are healthy bagels. Your doctor probably eats these by the dozen. God on high should strike me down if these are dangerous bagels.” Before she could reply, they were deafened by a huge explosion and blinded by the glare of a ball of flame just outside, centered on the burning hulk of the Volt. “See?” said the babushka. Author Biography/ About the Author
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About the Book
In Crime and Management, and Other Tall Tales, Carmine Cacciaguida gets a toy car for his fifth birthday. He checks his father’s car to see if it works the same way and discovers a dead body in the trunk. Years later, he becomes boss of his father’s gang but hates the violence. He and his daughter Claire devise a way to manage violent crime, similar to the way HMOs manage health care. Constituents pay insurance, the proceeds of which go to the criminals to ensure that they don’t commit crimes. Victims of crime are reimbursed from this collected money reducing what the criminals get. So the criminals have no incentive to commit crimes. The story traces Carmine’s idea from its birth to implementation through deals with politicians and the contentious but humorous heads of the twelve major crime families in New York City. After one year, crime is down thirty-four percent in the city and Carmine makes plans to extend the network outside of the city. The six other tall tales reflect the quests for emotional intimacy of a dying Nobel laureate, a reluctant Don Juan, and the point of view of a surprised frog, an icon and a teapot, an artist who takes liberties with a statue, and a politician’s wife. “Exciting, readable, humorous, full of multicultural flavors…but beneath all that is the ingenious comparison of ways of dealing with medical needs and a potential way of dealing with crime.” —Robert Kahn, Director, Institute for Social Research
About the Author
Eugene M. Silverman, MD grew up in Brooklyn, where he learned the importance of Italian and Jewish family ties. At the University of Michigan, he worked with pathologists from competing hospitals to form a network to deliver laboratory services to HMOs in Michigan. He lives with his wife, Alida, in Ann Arbor, Michigan.