Buckshot Mafia

By Buck Starr

BUCK'S MISSION: eliminate an organized crime figure.

It requires stealth and investigation. But after a non-sanctioned assassination within the Mob, the New York Families are going to war. This complicates everything, begging the questions: Who's bad, and who's worse? Buck must successfully maneuver through the culture of the syndicate unde

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing
• Release date: Apr 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781638370253

Book preview

1

SECCHIO SICILIANO

I

t looked like a hit. Seldom do suicides include decapitation with a sawzall. He had been a capo for so long that it was his nickname. The first capo most of the Family ever knew. And now he was just dead.

None of this made sense. He was no threat to any Boss. He was a career underboss—didn’t want to go any higher. When he ran a crew, it made good money. The other capos respected him—even liked him. He never skimmed, never came up short. And he dealt with his guys the right way. Sure, he had enemies, but not like most of us. It was always business with him. Capo never let personal issues get in the way. So, who clipped him? And why?

Don Gio wouldn’t be happy. Capo was the official underboss for Gio, and Gio relied on him heavily. Capo was the one who told the other capos what Gio was thinking, when Gio wanted it known. When Gio was seen, Capo was often with him—kind of like a bodyguard, but more like a paisan. If one of Gio's men was getting sloppy, it was Capo who took him aside and gave him the word. He’d given me a word or two over the years.

I had to tell Gio the news. He wouldn’t want to hear it from an outsider. So, I motioned Manny to get the car. I was ready to leave here anyway. The crime scene was the back room of a local Chinese restaurant. We would play cards and drink here often. But we never conducted business here. Capo wouldn’t have been here alone, although sometimes he stayed around until everyone was gone. It was his way. After everyone left, he would go to the kitchen and eat with the owner, and then tip the servers a few hundred. A little grease keeps things running smooth. It's a good way to do business. So how and why Capo ended up on a table—well, most of him was anyway—with no head, didn’t figure. I put Ernie T on it and took off. Manny was as puzzled as I was.

Boss, this ain’t no coincidence. This is a message. Who do you think it's from?

I’d been thinking about that since I saw Capo. No one we know works this way anymore. They would’ve shot him and walked away. And Capo was clean. Closest guy to the Don, except maybe for me, right? Why would anyone want Gio after them? They have to know he’ll be looking for revenge. Can’t let your senior capo get beheaded and do nothing, right? So, who would that work for? Mazzeo? Caprice? I can’t think of anyone it makes sense for.

Me neither. Maybe the Don will know something.

Right. He usually does.

2

O

n the ride to Don Gio's estate, I tried to think of everything I knew about Capo David Agresto that I could. He was older than me; in his late sixties, if I had to guess. Came up hard on the streets of Little Italy, rescued by the Outfit when he was but twenty-two years old. He had just got back from Vietnam—a decorated hero, although I never heard him talk about it. The story was that, while waiting for a medivac with a wounded soldier, he had apparently held off a platoon of VC, taking some lead to his left shoulder and a scalp wound. He played possum from the head wound and covered his buddy with his body, opening fire on the two sacrificial lambs the VC sent in to make sure he was dead. Either out of ammo or out of nerve, the VC backed off, and the medivac was able to get Capo and his wounded comrade out of there.

He rose steadily inside the Family. He was loyal, always the first and most important thing the bosses looked for. He was never considered the smartest guy in the room, but he learned the lessons well, and they stuck with him. So, everyone knew what to expect from Agresto. He had his own crew, working under a young capo named Giovanni Regio—now known as Don Gio. He earned well for Gio, and by proxy, the Family. After the New York Families fought it out in the late seventies over drugs and territories, Don Bianchi found himself short of lieutenants and underbosses, so Agresto was made a capo at the ripe old age of twenty-nine; almost unheard of, but the fact that he wore his loyalty like a scarlet letter and kept his mouth shut made him an acceptable choice. By the time Don Gio took over, Agresto had been a capo for some twenty years, making him The Capo, and thus the nickname. I never heard him called anything but Capo during my time as Consigliere.

We pulled into Don Gio's mansion ten minutes later. It was close to ten a.m. now. The owner of Lee's Palace—Lee, as you might imagine—had come in at around nine and found Capo's body. Called me right away and I called Ernie T and Red Rosso, and they brought a couple of guys each. They would find out what they could and then call the cops. Meanwhile, I would be breaking the news to Don Gio.

I’d been the Don's advisor for twenty years. I came to the job when he took over for Don Bianchi. It was a peaceful transition—Bianchi fled to some isolated island when the Feds leaked about his indictment. Hasn’t been seen or heard from since. Gio was clean—hadn’t been busted since he was nineteen—and was in line when Bianchi took off. Bianchi was losing support—and thereby control—so I had arranged for the FBI leak, knowing that he would never face up to prison time again. He always said that he’d disappear before he would risk dying in prison. He was in his late seventies, so I figured the news of an indictment would send him packing. And it did. Gio was grateful, although I never confirmed to him that I had anything to do with it. But he just knows things sometimes. I was hoping that this was one of those times.

The housekeeper answered the door and led us through the mansion. We were waiting in the den when Gio came down from his room. His den was themed with rich dark wood, and his desk was the centerpiece. To my knowledge, there was no big story to the desk; he had it made to mimic one that his grandfather used when Gio was young. He entered the room.

Don Gio, sorry to disturb. But I have news.

Secchio, Manny, good to see you. He walked to us and gave the old southern Italian greeting, the two fake kisses on each cheek. He did this when he greeted his people here. Espresso?

No thank you, Don. Not to rush, but there's something you need to know. Capo is dead. Someone killed him at Lee's last night. Never beat around the bush with bad news.

Capo? Dead? He was obviously upset by this revelation. How can this be? No one wants Capo dead. He is the most loved of all.

I agree, Gio. I agree. But nonetheless, someone has killed him. And decapitated him. I fear it is a message.

Decapitated him?

Manny and I nodded.

Gio began pacing, and thinking. The death of Capo was an emotional blow, but Gio knew this is what the business often gave us. So, he needed to figure things out as quickly as possible to avoid war, or to make sure he went to war against the right people. He understood that Capo was too close to him to let his killing go by as just business. This dictated action, and the action must be directed at the correct source. Manny and I sat quietly, almost motionless, for fear that any movement might distract Gio from his thoughts. After a minute, Gio turned to me. Secchio, this is from the Old Country—an old tradition my father has told me of.

I hadn’t heard of this before. What would that be, Gio?

"The beheading of your best dog. In Sicily, when land or property disputes took a dark turn, one barone would cut off the head of the best hunting dog of the other to express their distaste. Hardly a twenty-first century custom. But someone from Sicily, either here or over there, has sent me a message that they are displeased with some arrangement I am involved in. Probably not in our Familia; who would be that stupid? But from another."

New York was hardly Sicily—even in Little Italy, where we spent most of our time. Don, I can think of no one who would challenge you as such.

I can think of one possibility. He looked grim. And angry. The one who lost the Newark waste management contract to us. The one who had his Jersey property torn down to make way for the widening of Grant Avenue—a project we were behind. The one who believes that he is untouchable. The one who has the protection of the mayor and governor.

Don Caprice?

Maybe so. He cavorts with the mayor, acting as if so many social functions make him look legitimate. Yet the mayor isn’t legit, so that's all for naught. All he cares about is how to stop his obese kids from buying Big Gulps. And the governor? Caprice strings him along, making donations, giving his family jobs for doing nothing, making him look like a puppet.

He is a puppet, Don Gio. Everyone knows as much.

Yes, but he is still the governor. And with his brother-in-law in charge of the largest news outlets in the state, the media paints his every move as genius, when in fact he is bowing to those who give him money. The governor is no more than a pimp, taking money to send favors out to his donors.

We can still make a move, Gio. Say the word.

Is that your advice to me?

I can’t say as much at this time. But I do agree that some action has to be taken.

I agree. There must be some visible response for Capo. We put him to rest first, though. That is the way of things. Then we meet with the other capos and hear from them on this matter.

I’ll arrange it, Godfather.

3

W

ith Capo's wake over, Don Gio and I met at his estate with the other capos and lieutenants the next day. The Don gave a brief introduction, but he had not given away his suspicions to anyone but me. Manny was like the furniture—he heard nothing unless I told him that he heard it. And I assured him that he had heard no conversation about Caprice.

Ernie T spoke first. He had started as an enforcer for the Family and had grown into the role of the Family problem-solver. Sometimes with violence, but, despite his background, that was not his favored path. He learned from old-school gangsters that low-key was always the better approach when you could use it. He found out who had been with Capo the night of his murder, and even figured out where the sawzall came from that was left at the scene. It was from a machine shop on the same block that had been broken into earlier in the evening. His contact in the police force had said there were no leads, which meant one of two things: either there were no actual leads or someone had paid someone off. Ernie thought the job, while sloppy, was clean in terms of evidence. The room would be chock full of DNA and fingerprints from many unknown and known people. There of course would be nothing but Capo's blood on the sawzall. And Lee—even if he had seen something—would never divulge that to the cops, although he would be expected to tell Ernie anything he knew. He claimed he knew nothing, and Ernie T believed him. Red Russo, Ernie T's sidekick and a lieutenant, cosigned everything Ernie reported. Red was good muscle, but Ernie was the brains of that twosome.

The other capos were miffed. A couple mentioned Caprice and Mazzeo, but could make no convincing claim as to where their suspicions came from. And then Goofy Gus Lastra, a capo who perpetually wore a grin, indicated that he might be able to find out more. He knew some of Caprice's crew from the streets when he was growing up. Frankly, most of us who grew up around the area knew some of everybody's crew, but Gus had some relatives married into the Caprice Family—not people related to Caprice, but under his protection. He thought that he could have some discussions, but wanted Don Gio's permission to talk with them. He couldn’t risk being seen with Caprice goons without Gio's knowledge.

Don Gio, Goofy Gus started, I can talk with my cousin and maybe my uncle about what they hear over with Caprice, should you want.

Gio whispered into my ear Talk to him, and walked to his mantle, acting interested in some artifact adorning the shelf.

Gustavo, you think they would be forthcoming, especially knowing that Capo's been murdered? I asked.

I don’t know, Sessie. But I’ll know if they’re holding something back. They’re family, ya know. And my aunt, she gets mad at Uncle Nunzio and talks too much. Kind of in anger, ya know? So, if I talk to him around her, who knows what I might hear?

I didn’t like it. A fishing trip like this could end up bad for Gus. If they sniffed him out, they’d be expected to report it to Caprice. If that happened, Goofy Gus wouldn’t live ‘til the next family reunion. Can’t have you dead, Gus. You sure you could keep this casual? I know they’re family, but they can’t risk Caprice thinking they’re talking out of school.

For the Don, it's no problem.

"Well then, go ahead. But if it feels like they’re suspicious, break it off. Talk about your Grandma's pie or something. Capisce?"

Got it, Sessie.

What else do we have, fellas? I had taken over the meeting for the Don. He paced the room, acting disinterested, but I knew what he was up to. He felt the presence of a traitor.

Cristoforo Taranto, a capo from the southern borders of our Jersey territory, spoke up, We’ve had some problems down near New Brunswick with the Santos’ Family. Been interfering with collections. Nothing serious yet; a couple of heads busted to get ‘em out of there, but they’re punks. Just trying to get a little extra outside of their own. Don’t see them as this kind of threat, or I woulda told the Don.

No bosses involved, Christie?

Not that I know of. Just the vermin that slid across the river trying to make a buck off our tit. He pulled out some loose pieces of paper from his pocket. My guy Reggie—you know, Wet Reg—he got their names. He looked down at one of the slips of paper. Some Bruno dude, says he's with Santos, and a Bobby character who was hanging with him. Both of ‘em got headaches that night, if ya know what I mean. Reg tossed ‘em out on the other side of the Ben Franklin Bridge. Don’t expect to see ‘em again.

Why don’t you bring Reg to see me tonight or tomorrow? I’d like to talk more about these guys.

Sure thing, Sessie. He put the scraps of paper back in his pocket. Modern data entry at its best.

Anybody else have anything? The room stayed silent. Don Gio, you have anything else for the men?

He waved his hand, signaling that the meeting was over and they could leave.

I gave one last plea. Keep your eyes and ears open. You don’t kill a guy as important as Capo in a vacuum. Somebody knows something. Let me know what you get. And they filed out.

4

"S

it with me, Sessie. The Don had a worried look on his face. Manny, would you mind going to the cellar and grabbing us a port?" That was his signal for Manny to leave us to talk. Manny understood that he would be looking for a good bottle of port for several minutes. I waited in silence. He’d talk when he was ready.

Secchio, this thing may not be just some squabble with a jealous competitor. I fear that there could be a movement afoot, within the Family, for change. Helped along by Caprice. Someone working with him to unseat us; take control of the business.

But the Sicilian message—the decapitated hunting dog and all. If that is true, how does it figure into this?

Perfectly. It's a warning. We’re coming after what is yours. And they already think they have won.

Why do you say that?

Why else warn us? They don’t think they can be stopped. That's why I fear they have someone on the inside of the Family. Someone who has pledged their loyalty to Caprice in return for promises of greater responsibility when he takes over. Someone who is either unhappy with the Family or who is scared of Caprice. Or both.

Who fits that profile?

That's where you come in. I need you to find out. The capos trust you. I can’t be involved with asking them to speak against each other—word of that could cause insurrection. I feel the jealousy just by meeting with a capo alone. Only David had that privilege with any regularity. You must be my instrument in this.

As you wish, Don Gio. Is there someone specific you are worried about?

Gustavo worries me. But he is almost too obvious, and he would know that.

I considered that, but still had my reservations about him. I’ll make the inquiries.

As Manny and I were driving away, I called Red. Red, it's Sessie.

Yeah, Boss. What can I do for you?

I need you to beef up the security around Don Gio. Really beef it up. Use only your crew. We’ll pay for the losses of your business, don’t worry.

You got it, Sessie, and I don’t need payment. We’re fine with money for now. We started two new games and they’re paying off big. High rollers. Gio's getting a nice cut from there. I got plenty of young guys on the street looking to make more money, so I’ll leave a couple of lieutenants in control of the business and get these new guys broke in. The rest of my guys will work security for the Don. And I’m sending a couple to hang out with you and Manny, too. No argument, Sessie. The Don needs his Consigliere. It's what Capo would do. He was right about that. Capo always thought about security above all else.

Okay, Red. You need anything from me?

We’re good here. I’ll get my guys over to Gio's within the next thirty minutes. Don’t worry.

Stay in touch. They see anything suspicious, they let you know, capisce?

Got it, Sessie. Talk soon.

5

T

he Regio Family controlled Staten Island, Lower Manhattan, and West Brooklyn, and almost all of Jersey. Unlike the old days, we now had only three families controlling all of the city. Caprice had the rest of Manhattan, most of Brooklyn, the Bronx, and the western half of Queens. Mazzeo controlled Long Beach, Long Island, and the entire southern waterfront, which was where he got his power. Most of the New York longshoremen's union was his, or at least partly his. Much of our imports came in through Mazzeo's territory. Took the heat off of our Jersey ports, so it was a valuable commodity to us. Little Italy was actually under our control, but no Don had ever been possessive about the businesses there. Everyone was welcome, as long as there was no violence; helped keep the mothers and grandmothers content.

I started with Ernie since he had been checking around for me. And I was certain that he had information that he wasn’t comfortable sharing with the entire group. Like who all was with Capo the night before we found him. Ernie asked me to come to his home, a gesture of respect. So, we met there. Before I could get seated, his wife Maggie was there with espresso. Espresso, Secchio?

Please, Maggie.

She held up a bottle. Brandy? Why the hell not.

Thank you. I offered my cup and she topped it off with the strong liquor. I tasted it and nodded my approval to her. She scurried out of the room.

Ernie Travante was the captain for most of Jersey. It was our stronghold, and Gio knew that putting Ernie in charge there sent the right message—you fuck with Jersey, you answer to Ernie T—and no one wanted to do that.

Sessie, this is bad business, Ernie started.

Yeah. We need to figure out where to strike. This cannot go unanswered. He nodded. So, who was with Capo the night he was killed?

I been verifyin’ everything, and from what I can find out, two of his lieutenants, Carducci and D’Agostino, were with him at Lee's. They had a card game goin’ on. A couple of his soldiers were playin’ too. Milo Milano and Freddie Pinto—goes by Freddie Beans. Lee only had his family workin’. Him and Suzie and the boy, Bo. They close up and the boys all leave. Lee says Capo comes into the kitchen, gives Suzie a C-note and the boy a twenty, has an espresso, and leaves. Says they left within minutes after that.

"Capo still have a key to Lee's?’

Lee says yeah.

So, we know how everyone got to where they were. Just don’t know who.

Right. I wonder if Capo would have taken someone back there knowing they were going to kill him?

Wouldn’t think so. He wouldn’t do that to Lee if he could help it.

"Yeah, so I’m guessin’ he didn’t know what was going on