Page 53 of Alfie: Part One
That’s a cool little dude!
Did she view Trip as her nephew now? Did they really consider each other family?
This morning, in the middle of a meeting, I’d found myself drifting off in my mind, rationalizing and bargaining about the whole thing. Mafia had family too. Surely I didn’t have to worry about Trip and Ellie’s safety. According to Emilia’s Instagram, she and Finnegan had at least four or five children, and they hosted a lot of dinners and barbecues where childrenwere running around. I couldn’t imagine them being unsafe in that environment. Mobsters led two separate lives—one very wholesome, one less so.
After the meeting, I’d grown sick with myself for thinking in these terms. Mafia was still mafia. They were a threat to society. They preyed on others to get rich.
That, in turn, had prompted a little voice in the back of my head.
The only difference between the mafia and a big corporation is that the corporation preys on others legally. The mafia doesn’t.
I was clearly fucked in the head. The mafia murdered too.
We’d actually dedicated a show or two to the Sons of Munster over the years. Most recently, a few years ago when the Sons had been in the middle of some kind of turf war that had taken them to Europe. Basically overnight, Philadelphia’s crime rate had gone up. They’d left a power vacuum smaller gangs had been eager to fill. And once the Sons returned, all was well again within a few weeks. They’d cleaned up the streets faster than any police force could.
We’d had a police officer and a detective on the show, comparing the situation to South American cities that were known as cartel strongholds. And the reality was that these larger organizations maintained a sense of peace that the authorities couldn’t. Because prison sentences didn’t ward off crime the way a big crime syndicate did. Their methods were harsher and didn’t offer second chances.
Finnegan O’Shea had a reputation for being equal parts ruthless and protective. Protective of the community in which he’d grown up. Ruthless to anyone who threatened it. And how he kept evading the law was a mystery to me. But I supposed the comparison to South American cartels was more than valid. After all, people still defended certain cartel leaders’ heritages.They were heroes to many in the eighties and nineties, and that reverence lived on to this day due to everything they’d done for local communities.
My phone buzzed with a message as traffic finally started moving again, and I clicked on the preview at the top of the screen to see a text from Alfie.
The children’s festival tomorrow. Ellie and Trip wanted me to ask if you’d like to go with us. I think it’d be good if they saw us spending some time together with them. Are you available for a couple hours?
Yes. Without a moment’s hesitation. I was supposed to attend a cocktail party at seven, but I could definitely skip that. It wasn’t work-related anyway, and I’d lost all my interest in family functions.
CHAPTER 7
West Scott
Work dragged the following day, and I was out the door an hour early.
I drove toward Manayunk and texted Alfie when I stopped at a light halfway there.
I left early. I’ll be there in fifteen. What’s the parking situation?
The festival had been in full swing since this morning, and with people getting off work soon, I had a feeling it was going to be packed.
Alfie responded when I got off 76 and crossed the Schuylkill.
Just managed to snag a sweet spot outside the church on Silverwood. You should probably try a block or two away. It’s pretty crowded. We’ll wait for you here.
I pinched the screen on my GPS and zeroed in on three nearby streets to try.
In the end, I parked three blocks away, and judging by the families on the sidewalk heading toward the park, I wasn’t the only one who’d struggled to find parking.
After leaving my suit jacket in the car, I slipped on my shades and folded up the sleeves of my shirt. Another hot-as-hell day in Philly.
Getting closer to the church, I spotted Alfie’s SUV immediately. The gleaming black stood out when it was surrounded by old sedans and rusty pickups.
Alfie was pacing the sidewalk, talking on his phone, and I didn’t spot the kids. Perhaps they were still in the car, which… I cleared my throat and picked up the pace, because a woman was approaching the SUV at a jog, and then she peered inside.
“Oi!” Thank fuck, Alfie spotted the woman too. “What’re you eyeing my car for?”
“You have your children in there,” the woman accused.
“I also have the AC running, and the doors are unlocked,” Alfie snapped.
My mouth twitched.