Big Shoes
By Jack Getze
Genre: Mystery, Humor
Book Description
Jersey Shore broker Austin Carr wants out of the stock and bond
business but un-hooking from his mobbed-up partner won’t be painless. Angelina
“Mama Bones” Bonacelli is best known for professional consultations that
deteriorate into criminal violence, breakfast appointments raided by the FBI
and one particular Power Point presentation to a Jersey state racing commission
that ended in automatic weapons fire. Good thing she likes Austin.
Author Bio
A former reporter for The Los Angeles Times, Jack Getze is
Fiction Editor for Anthony nominated Spinetingler Magazine, one of the
internet's oldest websites for noir, crime and horror short stories. His Austin
Carr Mysteries BIG NUMBERS, BIG MONEY, BIG MOJO and this fall's BIG SHOES are
published by Down and Out Books. His short stories have appeared in A Twist of
Noir, Beat to a Pulp, The Big Adios and Passages.
The author is giving
away 20 copies of his book, Big Shoes!
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EXCERPT
Two days later Mama Bones watches Johnny the Turk Korsay stride
across the Pardon Me's main dining room, the king-size man seventy this year,
same as Mama Bones, and still swinging his big you-know-what when he walks.
Proud of himself. Not brainy and quick like smarty pants Austin, but street
wise and tough, maybe a genius for odds and numbers. They say Turk also has a
built-in, natural lie-detector.
Makes sense to Mama Bones. Before he brought the Korsay family
to America in 1970, they say Turk's father was a Lebanese-born camel trader
from Egypt. Made a fortune selling two-humped middle-eastern camels to Abdel
Nasser's Egyptian army. You can't make up a story like that.
Mama Bones sits at her three-quarter-circle control station, the
Pardon Me’s biggest corner booth. She's perched near the center, at the top of
the circle, the orange leather cushions stretching out from her on either side.
Enough room for six or seven adults. A right-angle corner of brick walls
protects her back. Over on her right side, like always, is Gianni, and behind
him the four-inch thick, bulletproof bay window she had made special. On her
left is nobody.
The Turk marches to the edge of her table but keeps his gaze off
Mama Bones. He stands with his hands hidden inside his suit coat pockets,
staring at Gianni. There's a story about him killing a rival once this way,
whipping a pistol from his coat and shooting. But Mama Bones isn't worried. Too
many witnesses at the Pardon Me Diner.
Turk says, “Just the two of us, Angelina.”
Mama Bones glances at Gianni. He scoots around and out of the
booth without a word to either one of them. She knows he won't go far, and she
also knows he has two of his men in the room eating breakfast.
“Sit down and talk to me, Johnny,” Mama Bones says. She almost
calls him Fat Johnny, the nickname Mama Bones gave him in high school. “How
come you want to see me today, huh?”
The Turk slides his six-five, two-hundred and sixty pound body
onto the far edge of Mama Bones’ booth. Nice suit he’s wearing. Charcoal gray,
and -- what she hears -- hand made in London. Over fifty-thousand bucks apiece.
“Billy Z tells me you interfered with the stockbroker,” Turk
says.
Mama Bones’ espresso is cold but not like the Turk’s dark brown
eyes. Frozen solid. She gives him ice cubes back, says, “I know a guy says you
tried to kidnap my nieces from a trailer.”
Thanks for having me around today, Carrie.
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