Tue Sept 5 - Franky

[Gaffer]

Looks like Sherrod was a square john, only a couple of parking tickets over the past three years and one pinch for drunk-and-disorderly seven years ago when he was 19.

The Pioneer Street Diner is at Pioneer & Van Brunt in Red Hook. Esposito knows its reputation -- patronized by longshoremen, smugglers and gangsters. More money changes hands under the table than across the counter. It used to be run by Mario “Big Chin” Verão, the local Portuguese boss.

It's still a dingy, greasy place, lit by a garish neon sign outside. A sweet-faced Latin girl with merry eyes and a lush mouth, a bit chubby, is waiting table. A heavyset, swarthy fellow in a grease-stained undershirt and a spotless white sailor cap is behind the counter. A couple of working stiffs are hunched over the remains of their food are talking quietly. In the corner by the back hall sits a guy reading the Sun, just his thick dark hair visible over the top of the paper.

"Wha' can I getchoo?" the girl asks, setting a glass of murky water on the table in front of Franky, "Da caldeirada is good today."

[FrankyEsposito]

OOC:   If they don't have a liquor license change my beer to a Coca-Cola.

I'm not too sure about eating anything that comes out of Red Hook -- it's been a very long time -- but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. While I'm doing it, I'm keeping half on eye on Mr. Sun back in the corner.

"Been a long time since I had a good bowl of caldeirada. If you say it's good, well, that's good enough for me." I give her my best "I'm not a cop" smile. It's not hard to flirt with her, not with that sweet face. "I'll take that, and a beer, please." I make sure to enjoy the view as she walks away.

After eating some of the fish stew -- and ordering another beer -- I get the girl's attention. When she comes over, I ask her name and show her Marlene's picture.

[Gaffer]

"Me? I'm Luzia Verão," she says with a grin, "Who's dat? Someone I should know?"

[FrankyEsposito]

"Maybe. She's been missing for a while, and I'm trying to find her. I found a matchbook from here at her place and thought maybe she'd been here. Guess I'm out of luck, huh? Except for the caldeirada, that is." It's tough to flirt and keep an eye on how the rest of the place is reacting. Good thing I'm a trained professional.

If she doesn't recognize Marlene I'll try Merivana and see if I get a hit there.

[Gaffer]

If she doesn't recognize Marlene I'll try Merivana and see if I get a hit there.

How so? I don't think you have a photo of Merivana, although you do have one of Alphonse Hirt.

[FrankyEsposito]

If she doesn't recognize Marlene I'll try Merivana and see if I get a hit there.

How so? I don't think you have a photo of Merivana, although you do have one of Alphonse Hirt.

Hmm. I don't remember if I have one or not. If not, I'll ask about Alphonse who is, after all, also missing.

[Gaffer]

Franky sees Luzia's eyes widen with recognition. (Assess Honesty) "He look familiar, maybe actor on Broadaway? Why you ask?"

The scrape of the chair beside him as it's pulled back from the table startles Esposito, not least because the man's approach was so silent. Getting careless in my old age, too careless for Red Hook, maybe. A well-built young guy with a full head of dark hair smiles at him as he says to the girl, "Go ahead an' tell him what you know, Luiza. This one's on the house."

"Hokay-doke, Baldy." The girl leans invitingly close, her breath fresh with Juicyfruit, "Dis guy comes in few week ago an' few times after. He don' belong here wit' his fancy clothes, but he tip good, so I 'member him good. I t'ink he's estúpido rich boy slummin' in Red Hook, but he keep askin' questions 'bout de old church and…" She looks at Baldy and he shakes his head. "... 'bout stuff we don' talk 'bout.

"Later, I see 'im wit' dat Merivana up on Bay Street. I don'know what she is, but no Portuguese or Spanish. Baldy say she's meretriz, but I t'ink she's bruxa.”

Baldy sits in the chair and motions Luiza away, "Cute kid, huh? You pro'ly don' reco'nize her."

[FrankyEsposito]

I listen real close. I don't know much Portuguese, but I know what "bruxa" means. Merivana's reputation precedes her.

I turn my attention to baldy, annoyed with him for sending Luzia away. "Recognize her? No, should I?" And does baldy recognize me or am I just paranoid? And who is baldy, anyway?

[Gaffer]

"We remember you, Espopsito," says the young hoodlum with a grin, "Luzia's older sister went missin' a few years back, Estrela Verão. She was Mario Verão's niece. Y'know, 'Big Chin' Verão? You an' your partner were th' only cops that cared 'bout a gangster's kid. We was sorry 'bout what happen'a you guys.

"I'm Balduinho Lazo, but people call me Baldy. I kinda run this joint for Mario an' things. He's my Uncle, too. By th' way, Luzia's seventeen, just so's ya know."

[FrankyEsposito]

"Seventeen, huh?" I shake my head and take a long pull on my beer, hoping my grin will hide my embarrassment. "Damn, I'm old."

I run through my head real quick what I know about Baldy and his uncle.

"Real sorry about the way the rest of the force handled that. It still don't sit right with me."

I gesture at the pictures of Alphonse and Marlene. "She's his sister. They're both missing. You know anything solid about this Merivana?"

[Gaffer]

“I know you cops never woulda broke th' cult wit'out our peoples’ help. But now is back an' that meretriz bruxa Merivana's da leader. They's down on Bay Street some'ere's. It ain't healthy to go nosin' 'roun' tha' neighborhood - not for cops, not for my people, not for nobody. I can't tell you anyt'ing more, 'cept they ain' stealin' our kids this time.”

[FrankyEsposito]

"Bay Street, huh? Gonna have to check it out, safe or no."

I give him my desk phone number. "You see that Merivana or hear anything -- anything -- about her, you call me. And if they start nosing around here you call me for that, too, you hear? They ain't taking anybody's kids this time, not if I can help it."

I shake his hand, pay my tab, and leave Luzia a healthy tip. I tip my hat to both of them as I head out.

[Gaffer]

Franky realizes that he has about an hour to spare, if he's going to be at Flanagan's on time to meet the others.

[FrankyEsposito]

If there's time, I'll my a quick recon of Bay Street, just to bring back old memories. If not, I'll just wander around Red Hook a bit -- glad for the safety of the day time.

I leave myself plenty of time to catch a bus and a train uptown.

[Gaffer]

Will you try to talk to any of the residents of Red Hook to pick up information?

[FrankyEsposito]

Will you try to talk to any of the residents of Red Hook to pick up information?

Unless I run into someone I know -- an old friend or CI -- then no. Just trying to ease my way back into it without flipping out.

And there's no way I'm telling Siobhan about it.

[Gaffer]

Red Hook has changed little since the 1924 raid – it’s still a dangerous, run-down district, full of narrow streets and tenement blocks and the ever-present smell of the harbor. As Franky walks the streets of this district he feels watched and unwelcome, the object of blank stares and passive hostility. Most of the people look like poor people in other parts of the city. The worst of the neighborhoods are being demolished to make way for new housing, schools and parks. No one seems happy about it.

As Franky walks east and south toward Bay Street, there are more than a few men wearing fezzes or flat turbans. Few women are seen on the streets in those neighborhoods. Just two blocks from the diner, Esposito spots the first cult symbol, scratched into the wall of a burnt-out storefront.


When he gets to Creamer Street - the site where Suydam's tenements collapsed - there's no trace of them. But the new housing has already begun to pick up the grime and decay of the rest of the neighborhood. In the alleyway next to one of the new apartments the symbol is daubed on the wall and there's a small pile of offerings – a few coins, a couple of bottles of booze, something wrapped in a blanket. A big black dog is nosing the bundle. Franky has his hand on his revolver when it shies away and lopes off into the alleyway. Just a damn dog, Esposito, calm down before you plug somebody. When Esposito nudges the bundle, it falls open to disclose a dead cat, maggots writhing in its eye sockets. [Stability check against a target of 2]

He turns right onto Columbia Street and starts walking the block to Bay Street.

[FrankyEsposito]

[Stability check against a target of 2]

OOC,He's pretty freaked out, so I'm not even going to roll for it. FAIL!

[Gaffer]

OOC,[color=#FF4000] lose 1 Stability[/color]

[FrankyEsposito]

Get a grip, Esposito. It's a cat. What made me think I saw a baby? Not even in Red Hook.

Yeah? You sure of that?

Never should've come back here. Should've taken the holiday off. Maybe I can just go. Take Siobhan, move to Chicago. Or maybe Iowa. Take up farming.

Yeah, right. Farming. You even know which end of the cow milk comes from?

I'll never leave, of course. This place, it gets in your blood. Some folks don't take to it. They can't hear the humming poetry of the subway, the music of the wind whipping off the Hudson. They never learn to dance with this city. My city.

Not this place, Franky.

Yeah, even here. Even this scabbed-over, filth-ridden, rat-infested cesspool. It's my city and I'll be damned if a bunch of fez-wearing lowlifes take it away from me.

I turn my collar up against the dank wind coming off the water. The next person who glares at me is going to get it right back at them, doubled. Maybe even hassled by John Law a little.

My city. Mine.