Who is Lou Sciortino? by Ottavio Cappellani Page A

ain’t all that solid, Lou, better not rock.”
    Lou opens a drawer in the desk and takes out a bottle of gin. “A drink?” he says.
    â€œA drop, Lou, just a drop…” Uncle Sal says, looking at the glass with a disgusted expression. “You know the respect I got for your grandfather. It’s a point of honor with me that you feel fine here, Lou!”
    â€œI’m fine, Don Scali, don’t worry.”
    â€œGood!” Uncle Sal says. “Good!” Then he looks around. “But now there are some new eventualities…”
    Lou makes a face, like he’s saying, Eventualities, what the fuck is that?
    â€œI mean, something’s happened…” Uncle Sal says, stroking the crease in his pants. “While you were unconscious in the hospital, it was like fucking Afghanistan here, flashing lights, sirens, TV news … What the fuck’s going on? I asked Tuccio. Tuccio goes off to find out and when he comes back he’s looking really grim like he’s been to a funeral. You know what happened? A robbery at Uncle Mimmo’s! They killed a sergeant!”
    â€œShit,” Lou says.
    â€œIt’s worse than if somebody had slashed my face,” Uncle Sal says, “much worse! Because I know the boys in this neighborhood, every single one of them, and I know for sure that if they do a robbery they don’t kill me any cops. So I asked around, made inquiries, and found out that right after the robbery some half-drugged bozo came out of Uncle Mimmo’s store covered in blood.”
    Lou sips his gin and says nothing.
    â€œIf it was down to me,” Uncle Sal says, “ first I’d kill the son of a bitch with my own hands, then I’d ask him if it was him. But I gotta handle things differently here. Because you know who this junkie is? It’s that guitarist who lives next door to Tony: Nick Palumbo! Capito? The one Tony’s so crazy about. He treats him like one of the family! Sure, you think about it, you know sometimes it happens, a good kid goes off the rails. Like they give you a couple fixes in San Berillo, and you become an addict and then they don’t give you a fucking thing. So whaddaya do? To get another fix, you go do a robbery and kill some asshole with a badge.
    â€œAnyway, Lou, sometimes a man can’t just do what he oughta do. Sometimes it’s better to use your head. Right now I gotta straighten things out here, I can’t just let it end badly. And there’s something else I gotta tell you, Lou! I need to fix things up for Mindy! Which is why I say: Are we sure it was him? Tell me, are you sure? No, you can’t be, Lou! Which is why I gotta tell you this, too. I saw this Nick at my nephew’s barbecue at the time of the robbery. Minchia, everybody there saw him talking to Mindy. So then I ask myself: If Nick Palumbo was at my nephew’s barbecue at the time of the robbery, what was he doing at Uncle Mimmo’s store?”
    â€œWhat was he doing, Don Scali?” Lou asks.
    â€œHe wasn’t doing nothing! Nothing whatsoever! The son of a bitch wasn’t there! Have I made myself clear?”
    â€œTotally, Don Scali.”
    â€œGood. And now we gotta make it clear to Uncle Mimmo, too,” Uncle Sal says.
    â€œExcuse me, Don Scali,” Lou says, refilling his glass to the brim. “I don’t want to be impolite, but I don’t understand … What do you mean, ‘We gotta make it clear’?”
    â€œLou, Lou, I’m under pressure right now to straighten things out … This is a very delicate matter. I can’t send one of my picciotti to see Uncle Mimmo. I got my connections at police headquarters, but so does that son of a bitch Sonnino. Uncle Mimmo’s an innocent. Let’s say the police or Sonnino put the scare into him and he squeals that one of my picciotti threatened him … I gotta cover my back then … That’s why