Hawaiian shirt look, and shorts. He was carrying on an animated conversation with one of the teachers, an attractive Hispanic woman.
The gal was trying to split her attention between Casanova and the kids. At the moment Casanova was winning.
“Guy knows everybody,” Freddie said.
“More people than you?”
“By far. Plus, the son of a bitch could talk a dog off a meat truck,” he said. “I’d bet you a paycheck he gets her number, except I ain’t getting paid.”
“That still bugging you?”
“Damn straight it is,” he said.
A minute later the big guy peeled off as the preschoolers toddled past screeching and laughing. He said something in Spanish to the woman, and she laughed and said something back in Spanish. It seemed like they had known each other for years.
A second later he walked to us. Freddie got up and they hugged, and then he introduced him. We shook hands, and Victor took a seat on the bench.
“You guys are cousins?” I asked.
Victor threw his head back and let loose a big laugh like there was some inside joke going on that I wasn’t a part of. “Hah,” he said, “we all cousins.”
“Vic is cousins with everybody, especially the ladies,” Freddie said.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Victor said.
Victor pulled a slip of paper out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Freddie. “Here’s your man,” he said.
“Charles T. Bulger,” Freddie said, looking at the paper then passing it to me.
I looked at it like there was some other secret information on it that Freddie had missed. There wasn’t.
“This is great, Vic,” I said. “But you got anything else? Like, who this guy is.”
“Pushy TV type,” Freddie said.
“Always take, take, take with those guys,” Vic said.
“So Charles Bulger is the guy following me?” I asked.
“You got it. Age fifty-three,” Victor said. “Was in the military out of high school. Regular army. Got out and promptly got himself arrested for assault in a bar fight—twice. Second time he served two years. He got out and got himself into the security game. Did the bodyguard thing for celebrities in L.A. for a while, then came home to Jersey and started his own security contracting firm.”
“Another American success story,” I said.
“And seventeen years later he’s driving a black Mercedes CL550,” Victor said. “That’s what’s been tailing you all over the place. Not everywhere, but a lot of places. Not sure how he’s picking and choosing,” Vic said.
“And you know all of this how?” I asked.
“Because I’m that good,” he said.
“Yes, I’ve gathered as much. But I mean, how do you know he’s been following me?”
“Because I’ve been following you.”
I looked at Freddie. “You authorize this?”
He nodded.
“And last night you and a very pretty young lady, brunette, went out for a cocktail over at a little place on Twenty-third, corner of Third Avenue,” Victor said.
“That would be Liz,” Freddie said, “although we’ve never been introduced.”
“What’d I have?” I asked.
“A draft of something, couldn’t see which one. Looked like an ale of some sort.”
“Wow,” I said.
“I asked Victor to watch you after seeing Fedora tailing you at Ron Marshall’s office,” Freddie said. “Victor specializes in surveillance.”
“Among other things,” Vic said.
“Of course,” I said. “And was this a favor?”
“Oh no, no,” Victor said.
“I didn’t think so,” I said.
“Gets expensive to keep yourself alive,” Freddie said.
“Speaking of money,” Victor said, “Bulger’s car, the Mercedes, you know how much that puppy runs?”
“Maybe ninety Gs?” I asked.
“Try more than one ten,” he said.
“Geez, how does that thing not get ripped off when he’s following TV Boy over here?” Freddie asked.
“TV Man,” I said. “I prefer TV Man.”
“Chucky has a copilot,” Victor said. “Couldn’t get a good look at him, though. Just some big dude.”
Freddie
The gal was trying to split her attention between Casanova and the kids. At the moment Casanova was winning.
“Guy knows everybody,” Freddie said.
“More people than you?”
“By far. Plus, the son of a bitch could talk a dog off a meat truck,” he said. “I’d bet you a paycheck he gets her number, except I ain’t getting paid.”
“That still bugging you?”
“Damn straight it is,” he said.
A minute later the big guy peeled off as the preschoolers toddled past screeching and laughing. He said something in Spanish to the woman, and she laughed and said something back in Spanish. It seemed like they had known each other for years.
A second later he walked to us. Freddie got up and they hugged, and then he introduced him. We shook hands, and Victor took a seat on the bench.
“You guys are cousins?” I asked.
Victor threw his head back and let loose a big laugh like there was some inside joke going on that I wasn’t a part of. “Hah,” he said, “we all cousins.”
“Vic is cousins with everybody, especially the ladies,” Freddie said.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Victor said.
Victor pulled a slip of paper out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Freddie. “Here’s your man,” he said.
“Charles T. Bulger,” Freddie said, looking at the paper then passing it to me.
I looked at it like there was some other secret information on it that Freddie had missed. There wasn’t.
“This is great, Vic,” I said. “But you got anything else? Like, who this guy is.”
“Pushy TV type,” Freddie said.
“Always take, take, take with those guys,” Vic said.
“So Charles Bulger is the guy following me?” I asked.
“You got it. Age fifty-three,” Victor said. “Was in the military out of high school. Regular army. Got out and promptly got himself arrested for assault in a bar fight—twice. Second time he served two years. He got out and got himself into the security game. Did the bodyguard thing for celebrities in L.A. for a while, then came home to Jersey and started his own security contracting firm.”
“Another American success story,” I said.
“And seventeen years later he’s driving a black Mercedes CL550,” Victor said. “That’s what’s been tailing you all over the place. Not everywhere, but a lot of places. Not sure how he’s picking and choosing,” Vic said.
“And you know all of this how?” I asked.
“Because I’m that good,” he said.
“Yes, I’ve gathered as much. But I mean, how do you know he’s been following me?”
“Because I’ve been following you.”
I looked at Freddie. “You authorize this?”
He nodded.
“And last night you and a very pretty young lady, brunette, went out for a cocktail over at a little place on Twenty-third, corner of Third Avenue,” Victor said.
“That would be Liz,” Freddie said, “although we’ve never been introduced.”
“What’d I have?” I asked.
“A draft of something, couldn’t see which one. Looked like an ale of some sort.”
“Wow,” I said.
“I asked Victor to watch you after seeing Fedora tailing you at Ron Marshall’s office,” Freddie said. “Victor specializes in surveillance.”
“Among other things,” Vic said.
“Of course,” I said. “And was this a favor?”
“Oh no, no,” Victor said.
“I didn’t think so,” I said.
“Gets expensive to keep yourself alive,” Freddie said.
“Speaking of money,” Victor said, “Bulger’s car, the Mercedes, you know how much that puppy runs?”
“Maybe ninety Gs?” I asked.
“Try more than one ten,” he said.
“Geez, how does that thing not get ripped off when he’s following TV Boy over here?” Freddie asked.
“TV Man,” I said. “I prefer TV Man.”
“Chucky has a copilot,” Victor said. “Couldn’t get a good look at him, though. Just some big dude.”
Freddie
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