Greetings everyone,
Here is another excerpt from Chicago Down. This a very rough first draft and is mostly dialogue – for a purpose, of course. I gave this a once over, so I’m sure that you’ll find something goofy in there. LOL. Thanks for reading…And please keep all Tommy Guns under your coats. đ
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SAL & NESS October 1931
A car skidded to a halt in front of Eliot Nessâs home. Salbatora Guerrera shoved the door open before the driver could make it around to her side.
âI can do it, David! Iâm not helpless you know.â
âI know, Sal, I justâŚâ
Sal stormed across the front lawn, fuming like a challenged rhino, leaves rustling and crackling as she treaded.
âNess! You come out here!â She screamed. Ness!
âSal,â David started toward her. âSomeoneâs going to call the cops.â
âEliot! Eliot Ness!â
âSal, please,â David pleaded.
âDavid,â her arm jutted outward, pointer finger aimed toward the car. âGetâŚyourâŚassâŚin the car!â Her teeth clenched together, and her cheeks were cherry red.
âYes, maâam,â David complied. He hurried to the driverâs side of the vehicle, but he kept vigil by the door.
âEliot!â She screamed.
âSalbatora,â Ness was on the stairs.
âEliot, what did you do?â Salâs face was red and wet, her chest heaved from anger and Eliot thought she might hyperventilate. âI knew it would come to this. You!â She pointed an accusing finger. âYou betrayed us.â
He came cautiously toward her, arms outstretched in surrender, palms facing her. âTake it easy, Salbatora.â
âWhat happened? Why did you go to the court?â Salâs eyes welled with water. âWhy did you let them destroy Al like that? Why?â
âYou knew I was going, Salbatora. You knew I went. Why are you here, four months later?â
âIâm so disappointed.â
âNow, Salbatora. You know why I went. I need you to understand. Al does,â Eliot put his hands down and approached her. âBesidesâŚhe isnât going down for bootlegging or prohibition violations is he? No. Some tax wise ass got the jump on me⌠Oh, never mind.â
âThey gave him eleven years, Eliot. This is not a time for jokes.â she cried. âPlease. If you have one shred of decency you will do something. Help Al.â
âI canât, Salbatora. I wish I could. My hands are tied. I wish I was that guyâŚthe one who could help you. But I donât have that kind of power.â
âThatâs okay,â Sal straightened herself up, smoothed out her coat. âUh-huh.â
âSalbatora,â Eliot breathed a sigh. Something so simple, but Sal believed he couldnât help. He looked so defeated.
âThese asses running Chicago,â Sal said. âRunning Illinois. They can try to cover it all up. Run it into the groundâŚwhat we did. You, me, Al, Bugs, and the Commissioner â God rest him. But, they canât. And if they think for one minute that putting Al Capone in jail is going to change it, it wonât. Heâs Al Capone. Heâll live foreverâŚâ
âSalbatora,â Eliot said, âthereâs a big chance Al wonât even serve the full eleven years. Maybe half. But things are about to change. Chicagoâs going to change. And, you knowâŚâ
âEliot. Chicago will never change. Itâll always be home to barbarians who need tending to. This is Al Caponeâs city. He canât trust too many. But Iâll be hereâŚin ChicagoâŚto make sure it stays Alâs territory,â she trembled again, maybe from grief, or anger, but it was making Eliot Ness question the last couple of years of his own life. Question his own sanity. âThey have no right to put Al in prison after all heâs done for themâŚthis no good town! He doesnât deserve to be in prison, Eliot. He doesnât. He was good to everyone. Vultures!â
âYes, Salbatora. He does. He belongs in prison. And he knows it, and you know it too,â Eliot took her gently by the arms, his voice low and soothing. âThereâs nothing I can do, or you can do, to change events that were set in motion long before you came to Chicago. We canât undoâŚâ
âOh, Iâll make them pay⌠Iâll kill them, every single one,â Sal said, hell bent on vengeance.
âWho?â
âThose bastard jurorsâŚone by one, Iâll kill them. Thatâs right. And theyâll be scared, each of them, waiting and wondering which of them will be next. Holding their breathsâŚscared to death. HidingâŚâ
Eliot shook Sal a little. âSalbatora, listen to yourself. Those are innocent peopleâŚâ
âOh, Chicago needs a leader. They need a bossâŚand Iâll give them one. Me. Iâll be the father of this town until Al can return and take back whatâs his. Iâll do that. Iâll kill them. And that judge. Iâll kill his whole family. Iâll blow that whole courtroom to hellâŚIâll killâŚâ
âSalbatora!â Eliot yelled. âNonsense. Stop it.
âHeâs not bad. He did everything for me and Leandro, and he never asked to be paid back. Never. Nothing.â
âYou are not a killer, Salbatora.â
âOh, no?â Sal stepped back out of Eliotâs reach and opened her arms wide. âI am not?â She opened her coat to reveal her holstered weapon.â
âYou have to wear that because you are in the Capone Family mess,â Eliot said. âYou have to protect yourself from people that hate Al Capone.â
âYes. Not just that. They look at me all nasty like I am some damned no good moll,â she raved.
Eliot shook his head. âNo, Salbatora, youâre noâŚmâ
âNot a moll?âŚunless you consider a trouser-wearing-tommy-gun-toting woman a moll. I killed many people, Eliot. You know it.â
âMost of them were already dead. I mean, who else is there? Who? Roger McClennan? He was an idiot with half a brain. So whatâŚand he left your best pal to die,â he ran his fingers through his hair. “Killer told us that the bastard didnât want to wait.â He laughed, nervously. âSo, you killed some people. But you are not THAT kind of killer.â He laughed.
âThat kind of killer? Whatâs that? Funny, huh, Eliot? YouâreâŚa killer too.â
âYeah. Yeah. Yeah. Iâm a killer too,â he threw his hands up. He gave up. âOkay, Salbatora. Youâre a killer. Is that what you want to hear? That youâre a murderer? Fine, then, be a fucking killer!â
âI will, then!â
âGood. Go ahead. See if I give one damn!â
Sal turned and slowly started toward the waiting car.
âSalbatora,â Eliot followed her to the car. âPlease. We can argue all day. The only sense there is, is in you letting this go.â
âI cannot. I have everything because of Al. He gave me work. He taught me business. Made his ruffians treat me like a ladyâŚlike theyâd treat Mae,â her memories were fine ones. âMae. She taught me that I can still be strong willed when wearing a skirt,â she laughed, tickled by memories of her and Mae that Eliot didnât share. âShe hates trousers, you know,â she smiled at times past. âShe taught me how to bake a turkey.â
Eliot felt her distress and uncertainty. He saw that despite her young age, just 20 years old, her youth had long gone. In fact, it was history before she ever met Al and him. And as for Al Capone, as she saw it, he may as well be dead.
âBut you can still have that, Sal,â Eliot said. He was looking for any way to make her see what was right. To make her see that killing innocent people was not the answer. âMae. Sheâs not going to jail. Sheâll still be here for you. My God, Sal, can you imagine Mae running between prisons trying to keep up with you and Al?…The two idiots that drive her the most nuts? And what about Rudy? Huh? Whatâs going to happen to good olâ sweet Rudy if you end up in the clink? Or dead?â He looked around, lost for words to describe the outcome. âThat guyâŚbrave as he isâŚis not too good at caring for himself, Sal. He canât even boil an egg. Even Al said that himselfâŚRudy canât boil water. He was always afraid to let Rudy have weapons,â he laughed. âBut, that boyâs handy dandy with explosives and grenades. Iâll tell ya.â
There was silence for a few seconds. Nothing to be heard but the wind rustling the trees.
âI canât let it go,â Sal said. âThis is Alâs town. And Iâll keep it warm for him until he comes home, Eliot. And you can help me, or try hinder me, but itâs going to happen. Chicago needs a babysitter. Just so happens Iâm free. And besides thatâŚthey already know me. And if those police and the rest of them law-wielding hypocrites donât like it⌠Iâll burn this mother fucking town to the ground. Besides, thereâs bigger fish to fry in this world.â
Gently, Eliot took Salâs face in his hands. Just a last-ditch effort to talk sense into her. He couldnât save Al, or himself, or Roger McClennan, but maybe, just maybe⌠âSal, Al Capone is not your father. Heâs not your father.â
Shattered. That was the outcome. Sal was crushed. Troubled, she stared at Eliot. He couldnât move, couldnât take his hands from her face. No thoughts came to him. His own words stunned him as much as they did Sal.
She stared at Eliot for a few seconds, tears streaming. âYouâre right, Eliot,â she choked. âAl is not my father. I killed my father. Heâs just another victim of mine.â
âYou didnât kill your father, Salbatora. You know that. He wasâŚalready⌠He was one them,â Eliot stepped back, nodding his head, shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. âAnd you met Al Capone, and through him you gained another family. Your mother and father. Your sister, Nancy. Big brother, Pedro. You and LeandroâŚyou lost them for good. And Al Capone and his people. His wife and his mother. They gave that back to you. Trust me, Salbatora â Savior, you were worthy of every minute of their time. Every dime you earned. Everything. Not to mention, you earned your short-lived place in history. But. Like me. Like Al. Youâll never be notorious again. Our time is ending, Sal.â
They stared at each other quietly. The sight of Eliotâs wife, Edna, caught her eye. She was standing on the porch. How much had she witnessed? Sal then looked the other way to find the driver, David, staring at her slack jawed, speechless.
âNot yet, Eliot. The bookâs not done.â
âStop,â he started toward her. âCome on now.â
She turned her back to Eliot and as she slid into the backseat, âDavid. Drive,â She slammed the door shut.
David looked at Eliot Ness and drove off as ordered.
Edna came down the stairs and met Eliot on his way to the house.
âEliot, youâve got to do something. Iâm afraid Salâs going to get killed.â She hugged Eliot tight. âWhat happened to our sweet-n-sour Sal?â
âI know,â he said. âI know what to do.â
Copyright 2018 Wanda S. Paryla
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