Never Again

  Never Again

  M.A. Rothman

  Copyright © 2018 Michael A. Rothman

  Cover Art by M.S. Corley

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  CONTENTS

  Words From the Past

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Author’s Note

  Addendum

  Words From the Past

  “Crises must be prepared for not only politically and economically, but also psychologically. Here propaganda has its place. It [the media] must prepare the way actively and educationally. Its task is to prepare the way for practical actions. It must follow these actions step by step, never losing sight of them. In a manner of speaking, it provides the background music. Such propaganda in the end miraculously makes the unpopular popular, enabling even a government’s most difficult decisions to secure the resolute support of the people. A government that uses it properly can do what is necessary without running the risk of losing the masses.”

  – Joseph Goebbels, Nuremberg, 1934.

  Translated from the original German.

  Chapter One

  “If all you drink is seltzer, how am I supposed to seduce you into seeing reason?”

  Levi took another sip of his seltzer and stared across the table at the attractive thirty-something Asian woman. They were sitting in Gerard’s, his favorite hole-in-the-wall bar in New York’s Little Italy. A few customers chatted amiably at the bar, and the smell of garlic and marinara wafted in from the kitchen.

  “Just because you think you’re right doesn’t mean I’m going to agree,” he replied. “I’m not this angel you think I am.”

  Lucy Chen was nursing a scotch and soda. She leaned forward and shook her head. “I never called you an angel,” she said with her slight Russian accent. “I just know you. You’re willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done, but you’re picky about the kind of jobs you’ll take on. Too picky.” She motioned discreetly toward two beefy men digging into heaping portions of pasta. “You’re loyal to your family, I get that. I admire it. But I want you and I to work together on this. We can do so much good in this crappy world if we cooperate. I need a partner in this.”

  They’d been having this debate for over a month. Lucy wanted Levi to go into “business” with her, but he had other obligations. Besides, he wasn’t sure what to make of her. The smoldering behind those dark brown eyes was… intense. In fact, everything about her was dialed up to eleven. The widow of a Chinese gang leader, she was the epitome of the dragon lady stereotype. And through a strange twist of fate, Levi had managed to get himself entangled with her.

  He did trust her. To an extent, anyway. After all, she knew more about him than most. Few outside of his normal mob connections knew he was a member of the Bianchi crime family.

  Denny, the owner of the bar, walked over and knelt so that he was eye level with the two of them. “Can I get you guys something to eat? The girls in the kitchen are using Gino’s recipes.” He hitched his thumb toward the two mob enforcers devouring their food. “It’s pretty good stuff, even if I say so myself.”

  Levi smiled ruefully as he realized how much Gerard’s had expanded over the last year. Once a small, some would say cozy, neighborhood bar that only served drinks, it was now a mob hangout complete with a dinner menu. He’d preferred it as a quiet place, because Denny wasn’t just a bar owner, the skinny black man born and bred in Brooklyn was Levi’s main intelligence contact. He was a gadget man, a genius with electronics, and had his ear to the ground about nearly everything.

  Lucy shook her head. “Levi and I are going out on a date, so it’s best we don’t ruin our appetite.”

  Levi worked hard to keep his frown from showing.

  The front door’s bell jingled as it opened, and with a smile, Denny turned away to greet his newest customer.

  Lucy smiled as she stared back at Levi … and he felt as though she could read his mind. She leaned forward and whispered, “You know damn well that anyone who knows I’m staying at your apartment figures we’re a couple. And if they know we’re not, that can bring up some awkward questions I’d rather not answer.”

  Levi sat back in his chair and nodded. Of course she was right, which annoyed the hell out of him. She’d been living with him for the last six weeks, ever since the FBI cracked down on the local Chinese gang she’d been affiliated with and ended up taking down of one of the major Triads in Hong Kong—the same one that Lucy’s deceased husband had headed. He couldn’t be sure how much she’d been involved in orchestrating that revenge. But one thing was certain: she was a marked woman, and he’d offered her whatever protection he could until things calmed down.

  Denny walked back over with an odd expression. He leaned down and hitched his thumb toward the door. “Levi, that lady says she’s looking for you. But I get the distinct feeling she doesn’t really know who you are. Do you want me to send her away?”

  Levi turned in his chair. Standing by the door was a woman in her fifties, dressed all in black, wringing her hands and looking very uncomfortable. He waved at her, caught her attention, and motioned her to the empty seat at his table.

  Denny shrugged and went back to the bar.

  The woman’s look of discomfort was obvious as she skirted past tables and patrons, trying not to touch anything. She pulled out the proffered chair, sat, glanced at them both and said, “I was told to come here, and that Mister Yoder would help me with my problem.” She looked at Levi. “Are you him?”

  Levi extended his hand. “I’m Levi Yoder. And you are…?”

  The woman looked at his outstretched hand and shook her head slightly. “I’m Rivka Cohen.”

  Lucy extended her hand and said, “At hassidi?”

  As soon as the woman nodded and shook hands with Lucy, Levi understood. He didn’t speak Hebrew or Yiddish, and he was mildly surprised that Lucy knew any, but he knew enough to realize this Cohen woman was very much out of her element. A Hassid was a follower of an ultra-orthodox Jewish movement. Not the type of people Levi often crossed paths with, but there were plenty of them in Crown Heights, only twenty minutes away. And it explained why she wouldn’t shake his hand, but would shake Lucy’s.

  Because
he was a guy.

  Levi smiled, trying to make this woman, who was clearly a bundle of nerves, more comfortable. “I’m sorry, I would offer you a drink, but I know you won’t take it, so how can I help?”

  The woman’s eyes grew shiny as if she were about to start crying. “My Uncle Menachem, he’s a jeweler at a place on Franklin Avenue. He said that you once bought something from him and left with him a promise. Do you remember that?”

  Levi pulled in a deep breath as his mind raced back many years—to when he’d been looking for an engagement ring for his now-deceased wife. “Menachem Shemtov?” he said. “The same Menachem who worked at a jewelry store at Franklin and Park Place?”

  The woman nodded.

  “My God, that was ages ago. Your uncle did this goy a great favor on a purchase. I’m surprised he remembers me. I promised to return the favor someday. What can I do for you?”

  Rivka wrung her hands together with a pained expression. “My husband died four months ago. The police say it was a suicide, but I know that he’d never take his own life.” She screwed up her courage, even though tears began dripping down her cheeks. “They said he was having an affair, but I know that’s impossible too. I have evidence that says so. Can you help me clear his name? It’s very important to me, to our kids, to our family. I don’t have much money, but I can help pay expenses, I think.”

  Levi tried to keep what he was thinking from showing on his face. This wasn’t what he did. And what she’d described made sense. Religious guy has sex with some random, or maybe some not-so-random person, he feels guilty about it, and he kills himself. This situation had disappointment written all over it.

  “What do you mean you have evidence?” Lucy asked.

  Rivka looked back and forth between Lucy and Levi.

  Lucy waved dismissively at Levi and explained, “Don’t worry, we work together.”

  Levi was about to retort when Rivka turned to him and asked, “Do you mind if I just talk to her? This would be much easier for me.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it.

  Lucy motioned him toward another table. “Give us girls a little space.”

  Feeling slightly annoyed, Levi took his glass of seltzer and sat at another table. He sipped at his drink, focusing his better-than-most hearing on what was being said. Unfortunately, there was just enough background noise in the bar, particularly from a rowdy group at a nearby table laughing and having a good time, that he couldn’t make out what was being said.

  After a minute of whispered conversation between the two women, Lucy clasped hands with Rivka and gave her a sympathetic look. The Jewish woman pulled out an envelope and slid it toward Lucy.

  Levi raised his eyebrows as Lucy peeked into the envelope, nodded at the woman and tucked the envelope inside her jacket pocket.

  What the hell is she getting us into?

  Rivka then stood, kissed Lucy on both cheeks, and walked out of Gerard’s without giving Levi a second look.

  Drinking the last of her scotch and soda, Lucy strolled over to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. “It’s all taken care of.”

  Levi stood. “What’s taken care of? What did you agree to?”

  Lucy dismissed the question with a flippant gesture, then waved at Denny and started toward the door.

  Levi followed. “Lucy. Seriously. What did you just agree to with that woman?”

  She opened the door for him and smiled. “I believe her story, and I told her we’d help.”

  “We?”

  Lucy wrapped her arm around his as they walked out of the bar. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk over dinner.”

  ###

  Having set up a breading station on his kitchen counter, Levi dusted the sliced and peeled eggplant with flour, dipped it in egg, and then the seasoned bread crumbs. He glanced at Lucy as she sliced fresh Roma tomatoes for the dinner’s salad. He’d promised to keep her safe, but the only safe places were his apartment building and Denny’s. So instead of a nice dinner out, it was the Amish fixer and the Chinese dragon lady cooking and eating in a mafia-protected apartment—again.

  “So, are you going to tell me what’s up with this Cohen woman? Why did you take her money and agree to help her? The story has loser written all over it.”

  Lucy met his gaze as she laid out the tomatoes on a serving dish and began slicing fresh mozzarella. “Why do you think her case is such a loser?”

  Levi shook his head as he carefully laid the breaded eggplant slices into the hot oil. “I don’t care if he’s a religious guy, when someone’s eye wanders, they can succumb just like anyone else. I’m wagering he shacked up with some lady he worked with, probably not even Jewish, and he felt a huge amount of guilt and offed himself. It happens all the time. That’s why I don’t get why you don’t see that. Guys can be like that. I should know.”

  “Tell me the truth,” Lucy said. She’d put the cheese over the tomatoes and was now thinly slicing red onion. “I’ll wager you never cheated on anyone in your life.”

  Levi’s mind raced to the few times he’d ever been with a woman that wasn’t his wife. He pursed his lips and gave Lucy a sour expression.

  “See!” She laughed. “You haven’t, have you?”

  Levi fished the golden-brown eggplant slices out of the oil and began frying new ones. “No, but I suppose I’ve never been accused of cheating on anyone. If the cops think he was having an affair, there’s probably a reason.”

  “You’re right, but it can’t be sex.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Rivka and her husband have seven kids, and the only reason they don’t have more is because her husband’s diabetes caused him to not be able to get it up anymore. Rivka said they’d even tried Viagra, and it didn’t work.” Lucy scattered the onions onto the tomato and mozzarella. “She says she has the medical reports to prove it.”

  Levi frowned as he fished the last of the eggplant from the oil and turned off the stovetop burner. “And the cops didn’t take that into consideration? What about the person he supposedly had an affair with? Did they get her testimony?”

  Lucy shrugged as she sprinkled shredded basil over the food she’d just prepared and grabbed a bottle of aged balsamic vinegar. “Like I said, there’s lots of unanswered questions. She’s invited us over for dinner tomorrow. Rivka said she’d give us copies of everything she has, let us look over his home office, and field any of our questions.”

  With a harrumph, Levi picked up the platter of fried eggplant and a pot of freshly made marinara, and headed for the dining room. “Just because it sounds suspicious doesn’t mean we can help with any of it. Don’t I get a say in any of this?”

  Lucy set her plate on the table and began dishing out servings of the caprese salad. “Of course you do. But you just pointed out there’s lots of unanswered questions, this is possibly having to do with a murder cover-up, and it sounded like you owed her family a favor. You’re not the type to go back on your word, so do I really need to ask you if you’re in?”

  Levi put two pieces of perfectly fried eggplant on her plate and spooned some marinara on it. As he served himself as well, he glared at her. She was one of the most frustrating people he’d ever met. “It would be nice,” he said.

  She poured herself a glass of Mondavi white zinfandel and poured him a glass of Perrier. “So? Are you in? Or am I going by myself?”

  They clinked glasses. “When are we supposed to head over there?” he asked.

  Lucy smiled, and for a second he forgot that she was a former mobster who was trying to turn over a new leaf. Instead he saw an attractive woman who was intelligent, assertive, and very idiosyncratic. He was never able to guess what was going to come out of her mouth next, and it was exhausting.

  “Before sundown. I guess we should get there at about five-thirty.”

  Levi took a bite of the salad. It needed a sprinkle of salt.

  Lucy nibbled at her own salad and frowned. “
I forgot the salt.” She pushed back from the table, got the salt shaker from the kitchen, and sprinkled salt on her salad as well as his. “Try it now, it’ll be better. Oh, and you’ll need to wear your suit.”

  He shook his head and tried to keep the smile from reaching his face. “Yes, ma’am.” He glanced at the tight-fitting white floral dress she was wearing. It hugged her slender curves, and didn’t exactly seem appropriate for a dinner event full of religious people. “And what are you going to wear?”

  “We’ll go shopping in the morning. I know just the outfit. I’ve been eyeing it at Bergdorf’s.”

  ###

  Paulie opened the rear passenger door to the Lincoln Town Car and both Levi and Lucy stepped out.

  Levi shook hands with the huge mobster, who was just a couple inches shy of seven feet tall and built like a bodybuilder. Beside him stood Tom, the mobster who’d ridden shotgun.

  “It’ll probably be a few hours,” Levi said. “You guys can go get dinner or something, I’ll call you when we’re done.”

  Paulie smiled and shook his head. “Not happening.” He pointed at an empty spot on the side of Lincoln Place. “We’ll park there and keep watch on things. The don’s orders.”

  “Okay, I understand. I’ll call when we’re about to finish.” Levi knew better than to argue. Vinnie, the head of the Bianchi family, was aware of the Lucy situation and was taking every precaution possible.

  Levi looked over at Lucy and for the first time took in the details of the outfit she was wearing. She’d said it was a Kay Unger mikado gown, which meant nothing to him, but the long form-fitting dress had an Asian look to his eyes. It was a dark shimmering affair with colored sequin embroidery that reminded him of her dragon tattoo. It had a long slit up the side, revealing hints of her athletic build.

  “You’re going to make some of the rabbis faint with that outfit of yours,” he said.

  “If they are truly godly men, they won’t be looking. And besides, I’ve been eyeing this thing forever, and it finally went on sale. I’m glad you like it.” Lucy wrapped her arm around his and winked. “Let’s go. I’d like to help Rivka with the setup for dinner if she’ll let me.”