The Third Rescue Read online

  “Back when your grandfather and mine were, like, our age,” said Penny, ignoring the year separating them, “this was about all there was. The Strip was just getting started, and the casinos down here were big deals. Of course, it was a lot nicer back then.”

  They strolled the mall, and Oval got excited by the big neon cowboy sign, which Penny said wasn’t the original. “That one was much bigger,” she said, “and it was outside, before they had the mall and stuff.”

  Then Penny had what she said was a surprise for CJ. “Mom and Dad wouldn’t probably like this since they’re so hung up on the whole gangster thing, but I think we should go to the Mob Museum, for kicks. And there’s something there that’s really cool. It might even help you with your project.”

  The Mob Museum, just a couple blocks from the mall, was in a restored federal courthouse building. It had exhibits about organized crime and the Mafia, with a special focus on those gangsters who were prominent in the days when Las Vegas was becoming the gambling capitol of the United States.

  Penny paid for their admissions, and could scarcely contain her excitement as they toured the exhibits. Initially, CJ found the museum interesting, especially since he knew that he’d had family members, including Noga, who might have been involved in some of the activities depicted.

  Oval seemed enthusiastic, but CJ could tell he wasn’t really into it. CJ’s interest waned too, when the museum seemed to bog down with stuff about the mob in other cities, like Chicago, that he had no interest in. Penny, though, still seemed excited when she finally urged them past a series of exhibits on the government’s actions against the mob and to another room, where there were a number of framed newspaper articles. Penny ignored all but one of the last, and proudly pointed to a yellowed clipping, with a headline that said, “Mob Shootout In North Las Vegas.”

  CJ frowned, and looked at Penny. There are dozens of clippings like this throughout the museum; what makes this one special?

  Penny said, “Check it out.”

  Just below the headline was a black and white photo showing two men standing over what looked like two bodies on the floor of someone’s living room. The caption said, “Pictured are Captain Jake O’Fallon, USAF, right, with Marcio (Little Bull) Matzelini, Jr., left, at the scene of a mob shootout in which two men were killed. See full article on page A4.” CJ snapped his head around to look at Penny as soon as he read that, his eyes wide.

  “Yeah. Cool, huh?” she said, smiling. “My grandfather, the subject of your project, was in a mob shootout.”

  “Okay. Wow!”

  “That was your grandfather?” Oval asked. “That mean-looking dude there, standing over the body? Man, awesome. Wait ’til we get back to Newport.”

  “Oval,” CJ said. “Seriously. Do not do that. Noga will go nuts if you start spreading stuff around about his brother.”

  “No, I wouldn’t do that,” said Oval, backing off. “But it’s still awesome.”

  He wasn’t going to tell Oval, but there were two things about the clipping that really struck CJ. One was the fact that his grandfather’s brother Marcio was involved in a mob shootout. The other was the date of the newspaper: May 21, 1982. That was the same year that Nini and Noga had moved from Las Vegas to Newport. Noga had said things happened and that’s why they moved. He wondered if this was one of those things.

  “Do you know where the full article is? Is it here someplace in the museum?” He wanted to read more about what had happened.

  “No, I don’t think so. But this is really cool, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Really.”

  CJ could tell that Penny was thrilled that he liked the clipping. Maybe too thrilled. She gave him a full hug.

  CJ, distracted and thinking about the possible implications the clipping revealed—and a little fed up with her physical teasing—didn’t respond to her. In fact, he pushed her away and said, “Hey, we’re cousins, after all.”

  Penny stepped back, gave him a look that he instantly read as trouble, and stuttered, “Second cousins.”

  CJ, still not grasping the situation, said, “Still . . .” He had no other cousins but Penny and her brother. He’d thought of them as cousins, never considering that second cousin was any different than a first cousin. That was, in part, a consequence of being raised by his grandparents—he was missing a whole generation. His great-uncle was Uncle Mario. His second cousin was Cousin Penny.

  But Penny looked hurt. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head. Then she turned her back. Standing there, not facing him, she said, “It’s time to go,” and walked toward the exit.

  Too late, CJ realized he’d made a mistake.

  Oval saw it too. Behind Penny’s back, he raised his hands and mouthed the word Boom.

  Yes, thought CJ, that had been an explosion all right. He seldom missed reading people in such a big way. He ran after her, but she continued shaking her head, never looking directly at him on the walk to the parking lot. Once they were in the car, with her driving this time, he said, “We don’t really know each other very well.”

  Oval stayed quiet in the back seat.

  She responded, still not looking at him. “We talk all the time.”

  “Well, yeah, on Instagram and stuff.”

  “So?”

  “What I mean is, I’ve been so focused on this family tree thing, and I see your name over there all the time in the “cousin” position . . .” He actually used air quotes when he said “cousin.” “. . . So I just always thought of you as a cousin, you know? I mean, before I got here and everything.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “So I was so blown away by the stuff you showed me in the museum back there, I just wasn’t thinking.” That was true.

  She continued to drive without comment, so he continued. “Really, I do like you.” That drew a slight glance from her, and a pronounced shake of the head from Oval.

  CJ thought he’d better regroup. “Look, last time I saw you in person, you were about twelve or something, and I just wasn’t ready for the real you, the girl who met me at the airport. Okay?”

  Another uncomfortable silence hung there, until she pulled into her driveway, turned the car off, and turned to him. “Why did you come here?” she asked.

  He didn’t know what to say. He’d probably have done better to say nothing, but instead said, “To do my research for my project. And to see you, of course.”

  She grimaced and said, “You’re so full of shit.” Looking away, she continued, “You’re always like, ‘Oh Mrs. Hancock, your dress is so pretty,’ and ‘Oh Mr. Hancock, you’re so big and strong and handsome—’”

  “I don’t,” he interrupted, his face turning red, from embarrassment or rage, or both.

  She quickly turned to him, pointing a finger and snarling. “You do. You say whatever you think someone wants to hear.” She lowered her voice and growled, “Oh Penny, you’re so hot, I just love you.”

  He wanted to say she was wrong, he never did that, but he just looked at her with his mouth open. Shocked.

  She stopped wagging her finger in his face and leaned toward him. “Well, I see through all that. You want everybody to love you, but you don’t care about anybody but yourself. Let me tell you something: nobody likes a phony.”

  An uncomfortable silence floated between them. CJ had never been called out like that. He didn’t know how to react. He knew Penny was totally wrong, wasn’t she? He wasn’t a phony. He was just trying to be nice to people. If he sensed what people were feeling, wasn’t it good to respond to it? That was different than being phony, wasn’t it? He cared about other people. He was sure of it. Pretty sure. But how could he prove it? After what seemed like a very long time, he said, “I’m sorry. I’d just like another chance.”

  “Whatever,” she said, got out of the car and went into the house.

  Oval reappeared in the back seat. “Wow, dude,” he said. “I don’t think that could have gone any worse.”

  13

 
Las Vegas, April 2018

  Aunt Donna climbed into the back of the Hancocks’ SUV, next to Penny. CJ and Oval were tucked back into the third row. Penny had almost refused to come, relenting only after her mother took her into the kitchen, out of earshot from where CJ stood guiltily in the entryway.

  Aunt Donna looked even better than CJ remembered her. The last time he’d seen her had been at her birthday, three years ago. He remembered thinking that anyone turning seventy-five must be near death. But the woman who got into the car at the retirement home (where she lived in independent living, Mrs. Hancock stated loudly) was pretty spry, considering she was nearing eighty and somewhat overweight. She was wearing a flowery dress with a white cardigan, which CJ thought was total overkill given that it was still about eighty degrees out. She gave Penny a kiss and reached back to grasp CJ’s hand and give it a squeeze. “Oh, it’s so nice to see you, Christopher.”

  “YOU TOO, AUNT DONNA,” he said, leaning toward her.

  “You don’t have to yell, dear,” she said, still smiling. “I can hear.”

  He looked up at Mrs. Hancock in the front seat, who met his eye and shook her head. Mrs. Hancock had told him that Aunt Donna didn’t like to talk on the phone because she couldn’t hear. That was probably why she hadn’t answered his phone calls.

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Donna,” he said, confused. “I thought you didn’t like talking on the phone, and . . .” He realized he’d stuck his foot in it there.

  “I don’t,” she said. “I just hate those little phones they have nowadays.”

  Maybe that explained it. He introduced Oval, who said, “Nice to meet you,” without raising his voice, and Aunt Donna seemed to hear him fine. She sat back and participated in chitchat during the ride to the restaurant, mostly about CJ’s arrival and the trip out to the dam the day before. CJ noticed that everyone looked directly at her when they spoke to her, and raised their voice a bit.

  The restaurant, a small Italian café in a strip mall near Aunt Donna’s place, was half empty when they arrived, so the noise level was such that conversation was not too difficult. Everyone with the exception of Penny seemed interested to hear what CJ was going to ask about his project, so soon after they sat down, CJ began his interview. He placed his notebook on the table and started quizzing Aunt Donna. He knew this interview was one of the major justifications for his trip to Las Vegas, and so he’d better make it good.

  He started with general background—how did she meet Uncle Marcio, where did she live, how long were they married—and tried to get Aunt Donna to tell stories. He asked what Marcio was like, and what their life was like in the early days. He moved on to things related to his Italian heritage, because he’d told the Hancocks that was what he was after.

  None of this information was really of great interest to CJ, but he maintained a good front, or at least he thought he did.

  Perhaps sensing that CJ’s heart wasn’t really into this line of questions, Oval interrupted. “So tell me, Mrs. M., was your husband Marcio really in the Mafia, like?” he asked, maintaining his lopsided grin.

  “Why, of course he was, dear,” Donna said before anyone could stop her.

  “No, no, we don’t need to talk about those old rumors, Mother,” said Mrs. Hancock quickly, clearly uncomfortable.

  It was obvious that everybody at the table had come to attention, especially with Donna’s unexpected answer. But Donna pressed on.

  She said, “There’s no harm in just talking, especially now that Marcio is no longer with us.”

  Oval, seeing the opportunity to keep things going, asked, “So was he like the godfather?”

  “Oh, no.” Donna waved her hand. “You watch too many movies, young man. There was no godfather. He was more like a capo, a captain. But in those days, all the casinos were run by some group or family. It was just the way it was.”

  “Epic,” replied Oval.

  Mrs. Hancock again jumped in. “That’s enough, Mother.”

  “I’m just trying to be helpful, dear,” Donna said with a sly grin. “Christopher said he wanted to know all about Marcio, after all.”

  Mr. Hancock asked her to tell some of the stories about Mrs. Hancock as a baby, growing up in the old house. He clearly had some stories in mind, stories that would get them off the Mafia business.

  Donna nodded, thought for a minute, and said, “My, yes. Those were surely interesting times. Yes, they were.” But she went in a different direction than Mr. Hancock probably expected when she said, “Somewhere I have a picture of the three of us girls, and you were just the—”

  “Wait,” said Mrs. Hancock. “What three girls?”

  “Why, you and me and Venus, of course.”

  “Venus?” asked Penny, sounding confused.

  “Oh—Violet, I mean,” Donna said quickly, shaking her head. “We sometimes called her Venus when she was younger.”

  CJ saw the opportunity to learn more about Nini, so he interjected, “So you knew my grandmother a long time?”

  “Yes, yes,” replied Donna. “Such a pretty girl. She was just a child herself when we met her, it seemed. But so pretty. I was jealous, I mean to tell you.”

  “How did you meet?” asked CJ, anxiously.

  “Oh, well, she’s the reason I moved in with Marcio, don’t you know? Yes. It’s true.” She had a way of pursing her lips every once in a while, and she did so now as she lifted her eyes to gaze off into the past. “When Gus and Marcio brought her in, I was so jealous, well . . . I guess I made a scene. My. I guess I did.” She looked back at CJ. “But what was I going to do, I ask you? Let her take over?” She looked over at Mrs. Hancock for agreement.

  “What do you mean, Aunt Donna?” CJ drew her attention back to him. “When you say Gus and Marcio brought her in?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she waved off CJ’s question with a flippant gesture. “You’d have to ask Gus. I just knew that she wasn’t going to be the only female living in that little house with those boys, I’ll tell you that.” And she nodded, to put extra emphasis on it.

  CJ wasn’t sure where to go with his next question, but Donna continued on without further prompting. “My, but I needn’t have worried. Violet was just a girl herself, a child, really. So innocent, she wouldn’t have known how to hurt a fly.” She looked wistfully off again, pursing her lips twice before focusing back on her daughter, Mrs. Hancock. “You weren’t even a year old, then. And I’d known Marcio for just a few months. But Violet was a such a godsend, watching you so I could go off to work in that filthy casino.”

  Mrs. Hancock smiled at CJ then, sending a message that he interpreted as Your grandmother was a good person, see. You were lucky to be raised by her.

  Donna wasn’t quite done yet, though. “I cried, really, when she and Gus ran off. That was much later, of course. Right after that nasty business.”

  CJ really wanted to know more, but before he could think of the right question to ask, Mrs. Hancock spoke up.

  “Okay, that’s enough on that, Mother,” she said. “What CJ really wants to know about is Marcio. Tell him more about his Italian side.”

  “Italian side?” Donna replied. “Well, he never talked about his job, but I don’t know if that’s because he was Italian or because he was a man. He did like Italian food, I must say.” As if to add emphasis, she picked up her fork and ate another bite of her ravioli.

  She talked a little more about Marcio, particularly about his parents, but she had to admit that she never knew them well. His mother had been wonderful, but had died when Mrs. Hancock was young, and his father was seldom around. CJ made some notes, but didn’t find much that was of interest.

  Before they dropped Donna off at her home, CJ schemed for a way to get back to see her privately. He couldn’t think of anything better than simply to ask, “If I think of any more questions, you know, about Marcio and everything, can I come by to see you?”

  “Of course, Christopher. Any time. Just not too early, because I have to make myself look
presentable in the mornings, and that takes a bit longer these days.” She laughed, and everyone else in the car laughed with her. “Or not too late, because I don’t stay up like I used to.”

  CJ told her he’d really enjoy it if they could talk some more, so they made an appointment for two p.m. the next day.

  “Thanks a lot, Aunt Donna,” said CJ, waving as she went in the door to her building. “You’ve been great.”

  CJ was left knowing more than he ever wanted to know about his Uncle Marcio, and a few new things about his grandmother, Nini. CJ figured that the nasty business Donna referred to was probably the incident he’d seen in the article in the museum, and that could very well be what caused her and Noga to move to Newport. And this was the first time he’d heard anyone refer to her as “Venus.”

  He was thinking hard about how he was going to try to get more from Aunt Donna when one more confusing thing happened. When they got back to the Hancock’s house, he and Oval followed Penny in through the kitchen. He wasn’t even thinking about the big fight they’d had earlier until she turned around and gave him a big smile. “See you in the morning, Sherlock,” she said, and then skipped—yes, skipped—over to the stairs and ran up to her room.

  What was that about? Sherlock?

  She hadn’t said a word to him all night, and now she seemed like everything was cool. She hated him just a few hours before, but now things were good? And she often called him and Oval little names, like hotshot and sport, or stud and show-off. But Sherlock was a new one. He had no idea what was going on.

  Oval wasn’t any help. His only comment was, “Damn. Just when I thought I was going to get a shot at her, she turns around and is all kissy-kissy. How do you figure girls, anyway?”

  CJ had no clue.

  14

  Near Las Vegas, July 1964

  As the battle continued nearby, Gus and the frightened girl huddled behind the car. He periodically peeked over the fender at what was happening across the road, and kept his gun ready in case someone else came after them. Just a few minutes after the girl arrived, Little Bull slid in next to them.