Prizzi's Honor Read Online Free PDF Page B

so they could see how it happened when it was real. This guy was a sensational photographer, Charley thought. Christ, he makes me look tremendous! The color was brilliant. The necktie he had on was worth the eleven dollars he had given the booster for it. The sound was a lot of crowd noises but Paulie said they could put a filter on that and bring it down. There was one confusing shot in the batch on Irene, which Charley didn’t have them include in the cassette. It was just a flash, almost. Maerose brought Irene to his father, then it was over.
    ***
    Charley took the cassette back with him to New York. A studio car picked him up at the hotel on Tuesday morning. They were passing through Watts when the car’s telephone rang. It was his father in New York.
    “Hey, Cholly!” Pop said. “How they hangin’?”
    “Terrific, Pop. You sound like you’re in the next room.”
    “They got rooms in them Hollywood cars?” Pop said, and he broke himself up, yelling har-har-har into the phone for about half a mile. “Listen, Charley, we got a little problem here so come straight to the office when you get in.”

Chapter Four
    Charley went from La Guardia to the St. Gabbione Hotel Laundry where Vincent Prizzi ran his end of the family business. Pop was waiting for him.
    “Before I forget,” Charley said, “I got a gimmick maybe you or Ed can use.” He told his father about the tax dodge on kidnap insurance that Irene had told him.
    “That’s a good wrinkle,” Pop said, “where’d you get it?”
    “Some tax expert. So—what’s the problem?”
    “Marty Gilroy is shorting payoffs again.”
    “What?”
    “So break his legs.”
    “No, Pop. This proves it. Marty has to be stupid. If I talk to him that will make the second time and that ain’t right. He don’t give a shit. We only break his legs and the other bankers are going to think he is getting away on us.”
    “You want to hide him in the garbage?”
    “I want to shove a bruciatóre in his mouth and keep it there until he signs a check for every dime he has. Then I want to take him out on the Island until his checks clear, then I want to break his legs and let him hitchhike home.”
    “Why is that different?”
    “Because we will flash his certified checks to every banker and runner in Brooklyn and Queens and they will know Marty isn’t getting away with only broken legs.”
    “That’s very good. It’ll keep Marty straight. I like Marty, he’s a real hitter.”
    “Pop?”
    “What?”
    “Who was the girl you were talking to at the wedding?”
    “What girl? Half was girls.”
    “A great looker in a green-and-yellow dress.”
    “A great looker ?”
    “Yeah—sure.”
    “Hey! I’m an old guy. I don’t remember those kind of things like you do.”
    “Maybe if I showed you pictures?”
    “Why not? But how come this is such a big deal?”
    “She’s a very special woman and I need to know all I can find out about her. Paulie has a movie shot of you and her.”
    “From where?”
    “From Teresa’s wedding. From after—at the hotel.”
    “Yeah? I’d like to see it.”
    “Can you come over to my place tonight? I’ll cook you a meal. It’s video, the picture. It takes a machine.”
    “I got a meet tonight.”
    “Well—as soon as you can.”
    “Sure, Charley.”
    “I’ll go talk to Marty Gilroy.”
    Charley went to a phone and called Al Melvini, who was called “the Plumber” because he always threatened to flush people down toilets when he was on a job. Charley told him to be at The Corner in half an hour and to bring tools.
    It was too early to call Irene in California. He wentout the back door of the laundry and got into his anonymous, black Chevy van and drove the four blocks to The Corner. He went into the luncheonette to see who was around. Phil Vittimizzare was eating a Danish while he played the pinball machine and two dealers were counting out decks of heroin at a table in the back.
    “Hey, Cholly!” Mrs. Latucci yelled at him