Page 118

“I want to thank you for the flowers you sent when Uncle Louie died. We didn’t know where to send the note. You’re a tough man to find.”

“Forget it. I sent them from a place of affection. No acknowledgment necessary.”

“Googs is an original name. Short for Gugliotti?”

“Actually, your uncle gave me my name. He said Rolando didn’t suit me. I wasn’t an actor or a movie star. Besides, he said I had the eyes. Googly eyes. It’s my thyroid. Hyper. You get the whites around the iris. Looks like a golf ball floating in a sink. I’ve been on meds since I was seventeen. It gives you a corneal bulge. See?” He opens his eyes wide. “I was Googly, until he shortened it to Googs. Did he name you too?”

“My brother did. He couldn’t say Giuseppina, so Uncle Louie made sure everybody called me Jess. Evidently, he felt that there was only one Giuseppina in the world who could carry that name, and that was his aunt. Sometimes he called me the letterJ.”

“Your uncle was a cut-to-the-chase guy. Unencumbered.”

“He was.”

“My condolences on the loss of Louie, and of your aunt. I met Lillian down in Miami several times over the years. Met them for dinner. Your aunt would turn in early and your uncle and I would hit the all-night card games. Good times.”

“I’m sure.”

“Here we are. You said you had some questions for me. Ask me anything. I’m an open book. Your uncle and I were as close as close can be. Very tight. I was mainly his traveling buddy, on trips to Vegas, Atlantic City, Miami. And we did business together.”

“My uncle led a compartmentalized life.”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

I understand why Louie and Googs were close. They think alike.Simpatico.“How long are you in for?

“Two years.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventy-eight. I’ll turn eighty a few weeks after I get out of here. Looking forward to it. A clean slate. Birthdays with zeros are starting guns.

“You look good.”

“It’s the genes. You can’t really mess up good genes. Smoking, drinking, nothing makes a dent in them. It’s like your cells have a Mylar shield on them. Impenetrable.” He looks at the field out the window and squints. “I guess you want to know about my business with Louie.”

“I would appreciate anything you could tell me.” Now that I have given all the marbles to the US government, I want clarity. Since the money is already gone, I would like to restore Uncle Louie’s reputation and find a way forward with Cap Marble and Stone.

“I said everything in court. Came clean.”

“I read the transcripts.”

“So you know what I did. I moved money around and didn’t report the taxes, but it was not our intention not to pay them. We wanted to build up the kitty overseas, and when we used the money here, we planned to report it. We used a bank that was known in business circles, but it turns out they weren’t on the up-and-up. And of course, Uncle Sam wanted the dough now, and that led them to break the operation, the bank folded, and they came after your uncle and me.”

“You helped put them away.”

“It was a trade-off. I sang and got minimum and they got maximum intel in the deal. I meant what I said to the judge. I was truly sorry. If I had it to do over, I’d declare the profits. Naturally. Render unto Uncle Sam what is Uncle Sam’s. Caesar can go screw himself. Excuse me.”

“But the profits themselves, that you didn’t pay taxes on, werenot legal in the first place. They came from the resale of marble that had already been paid for?”

“That’s still an open question, and I don’t want to venture into that arena. I do know this. You sell something—you set the price, right? You bought it forx, you sold it toy, andzgets pissed off about it.Zis not my problem until he is. If a customer agrees to the price, how is that illegal?”

“You have a point. Unless the goods are stolen.”

Googs makes bouquets with his fingers. “I never stole. We were moving marble. Rock and stone. That’s it. That’s all.”

“Where did Uncle Louie come up with the name the Elegant Gangster?”

“That’s a funny story.” Googs chuckles. “That was me. I am the elegant gangster. I wouldn’t use that phrase to describe myself, but we thought it was funny. They were called Johnny Carson suits, because he was the spokesmodel for them. You’re too young to remember him, or his suits, but they were these drip-dry polyester pants and jackets, under which I would wear a Qiana shirt. Also drip-dry. Those shirts came in wild prints. Very chic. No tie. Wore it open at the collar. I had a chest like James Caan at the time and it behooved me to show off my taut neck and Adonis pecs. You should’ve seen me back then. I needed little embellishment, believe me. One day, your uncle picks me up in Hackensack on our way to Atlantic City and I’m waiting for him, outside some restaurant, and I’m wearing an aqua leisure suit with a Qiana button-down in a cockamamie print of hydrangeas or something like them all over it, and your uncle pulls up, leans out the window, and says, “One Elegant Gangster to go, please.” And we laughed our asses off, I got in the car, and that was that. We called the company the Elegant Gangster because, let’s face it, we figured naming our company in such a fashion was like hiding in plain sight. We figured if the IRSnailed us, we had enough money set aside to pay the shortfall. Our attitude was, “Oops, we didn’t report everything, we’ll cut you a check now.” That was our prix fixe strategy if we got caught. You see, we didn’t count on getting caught because we paid taxes stateside every year and on time. They just wanted more from us.”