Friday
MAFIA CLUBHOUSE 7TH STREET, PHILADELPHIA
Seven men, including capo, Phil Leoni and Nick Consiglioni, surround a card table.
Smoke hangs thick as each plays a hand of ziganet, the Italian version of baccarat. Suddenly,
they’re startled by two loud knocks on the door. All men instinctively reach for their guns as
Leoni goes to the door and peers through a hole.
Charlie faces the door as Murray waits off to the side.
Leoni turns back to the men, “It’s a cop.”
The men hide their guns and slide away the cards.
“Yeah, who is it?” Leoni barks.
“PHPD. Got a report of a disturbance at this address,” Charlie replies.
Leoni looks back oddly at the men and comes back. “Disturbance? There ain’t no
disturbance here.”
“Mind if I check?”
Leoni nods to get the guns out of sight and complies, “Yeah, just wait a second.”
Consiglioni moves across to the closet and stashes the guns inside and nods OK. Leoni
opens the door. Charlie enters. “Officer Stanowski, PHPD.”
Murray quickly follows Charlie. The mobsters recognize Murray and deflate.
Leoni protests, “I thought it was just you.”
“I never said it was just me, hotshot.”
“Gentlemen, what do we have going on here?” Murray interjects, Charlie continues.
“Yeah, six guys sitting around a table, thumbs up their a**** – something ain’t right.”
“Leoni,” Murray says pointing, “you tell your sh**head boss his joke wasn’t funny. He
just took a big bite of a sh** sandwich.”
The mobsters look to each other with blank faces.
“Look, Murray, I don’t know what the f***you’re talking about,” Consiglioni shouts.
“You just tell him if he’s looking for me, he knows where to find me,” Murray
counters. The mobsters roll their eyes. Murray pauses and gives Charlie a slight grin and nods
to the men. Charlie immediately gets Frank’s unspoken request to f*** with them. Charlie
turns and fakes beginning to head for the door.
“Okay, I guess we’ll be leaving,” then Charlie pauses and turns back, “By the way, who
let you guys in here?”
Leoni looks back at his fellow mobsters. And back to Charlie. “I don’t know, nobody?”
Charlie responds, “Oh, so nobody let you in. Where’s your key?”
Leoni shrugs, the other men do as well.
Charlie presses, “Somebody had to unlock the door to let you in.”
Leoni folds his arms together, on the defensive.
“I see so you broke in, then you’re all f***in’ burglars!” Charlie shouts.
“No! No! We, we gotta key.” Leoni protests. Mobsters start rifling through their
pockets not finding any keys. Charlie grabs his shoulder radio mic.
“This is officer 5789, Stanowski, corner of 7th and Passyunk.”
Radio crackles, dispatcher responds, “Go ahead, 5789.”
“I have a possible 10-39 in progress, need backup and a wagon.”
“10-4,” the dispatcher responds. “Any shots fired?”
Charlie looks over to the men, smiles and clicks the radio mic again.
“Not yet.”
“Roger,” the dispatcher responds, “assistance is on the way.”
Consiglioni moves to get up shouting, “Hey! Hey!”
Drawing his weapon, Charlie barks, “Sit the f*** back down and shut up.”
Murray moves his hand close to his waist holster and Charlie leans back to Murray and
whispers, “You know something, I’m gonna miss all this.”
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