Milk Cocktail

Mafia boss gets poisoned

Conference room-- in a pig’s eye, this was no conference room, this was an interrogation room. Pea green paint on the walls, a long metal table bolted to the floor, and a large mirror that was no doubt a two way mirror. Three straight-back chairs and a waste basket made up the rest of the furnishings. I am here because of a glass of milk. I’m a waiter at the Moi Cheri, the latest hot restaurant on the east side. Now, it’s not my fault that certain mobsters hang out there, I didn’t invite them, and in fact I don’t even know their real names.

 The door opens.

 Two burly men in suits enter; one has a sheaf of papers in his hand. He looks like a hit man, a dark five o’clock shadow, heavy black eyebrows that nearly meet in the middle, and a nose that looks like it was broken several times and never fixed. The other man is younger, with close cropped red hair, and a mustache that’s nearly invisible. I decided that he was Good Cop.

 Bad Cop sits across from me. “I’m detective Hefiger, and this is detective Riviera. We just want to ask you a few questions.”

 I ask, “Do I need a lawyer?”

 Detective Riviera speaks up, “No, of course not. We just want you to give us a statement on your version on what happened last night.”

 “I already told the cops at the club everything I know,” I said.

 “Mister Bally, we would like to hear it again, if you don’t mind.” Hefiger said.

 I sighed. “Long Nose Freddy and his people were seated in my section; at table number 8; back in the corner.”

 Five o’clock shadow said, “You are referring to Fredrico Cimbrai.”

 “I don no. Was that his name? He the guy who died?”

“Yes, now tell us what happened.” Riviera said.

 “There were six people at their table. Long N… Mr. Cimbrai and Dusty Starr; she’s a star showgirl at the Silver Slipper. I think the other two girls were dancers from there also. I don’t know who the other guys were.”

 Hefiger said, “We know who they are, go on.”

“They had all been drinking for awhile, and then Mr. Cimbrai called me to the table and ordered a glass of whole milk. I went into the kitchen, got a fresh bottle from the frig and poured him a glass.”

 Detective Riviera asked, “Did anyone see you pour the milk?”

 “I suppose, the kitchen was busy. We’re always busy on Saturday nights.”

Five o’clock shadow taps the papers in front of him with his index finger, “None of the kitchen staff remember you getting milk. Why’s that?”

“I told you. We were busy.”

The End

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