Into the groove, p.23
Into the Groove, page 23
“I guess the police don’t need your bullshit testimony anymore,” I said.
“Stop worrying,” he said. “That fool friend of yours is gonna be just fine. I heard—”
Damn old fool doesn’t know D. Wayne is dead and doesn’t care. I erupted so fast I didn’t realize what I was doing. I grabbed Sockeye by the scruff and hauled him out of his seat.
“The hell you doing, Steady? I’m—”
“You’re not welcome here.”
“Steady,” Sandy plead,” Don’t—”
“Fish the garbage pails with the rest of the bottom feeders.” I dragged him to the door and threw him out. It wasn’t who he was but what he’d done that angered me so deeply. I could see the dirty cops and politicians using D. Wayne, but one of his own…? D. Wayne was from the street, the same as any of us, no better and maybe a hell of a lot worse. You may hate the hood, but we’ve got a code of our own—you don’t sell out a brother.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Auntie’s debut didn’t end the way it started.
Sure, she went on to finish her second set, but Sockeye’s appearance had fouled the mood and drained away most of her energy.
Revitalize did well enough to get booked for the rest of the month, but Auntie wasn’t herself during the second set. She held back and let the other girls carry the performance. I knew she’d get over it. After all, being disappointed by Barney was nothing new to her, and she had always bounced back. It was just a shame the way that selfish bastard tarnished her big day.
Sandy was quiet the next couple of days. Can’t say I blamed her. Tossing Barney out of the restaurant rubbed her the wrong way. I guess she didn’t like seeing me in that light and needed time to decide if I was the man she wanted to spend more time with. I didn’t know which way she’d lean, but I’d wait for her long as it took.
I’d returned to work. It was hard getting back into the flow of things after all the time I’d been off. And Sandy…she was cool.
A couple of weeks came and went before she opened up. “I didn’t like what you did, Steady, but I understand why you did it. You did it to protect your Aunt, same as you stuck with your friend Dennis when everyone else turned their backs on him. You’re loyal, Stedman Groove, and that’s the kind of man I want to be with.”
I’d been on the wrong end of a fishing line often enough to know that you never took anyone or anything for granted. The expression, hook, line, and sinker was a fallacy. There aren’t any absolutes in life, and anyone who believes there are is a fool. No one is completely good or completely bad. Love comes, and love goes. That whole bit about the sea being a fickle mistress…yeah, man, that’s true on the water and in life…Life is a fight, a fight for life and death sometimes, and you ain’t always gonna win.
I may not wind up being the last man standing but standing I was.
For now, anyway.
And from what I’ve learned about life, that’s pretty damn good.
Afterword
Hi, it looks like you made through to the end of the story. I hope you enjoyed sharing these pages with Steady. I enjoy that young man and hope he’ll live in my imagination for as long as you like reading his deeds. Steady and I will go on to explore the unexplained and shed light over the darkness. You may find yourself shocked along the way.
Into the Groove is a work of fiction, but the Palm Sunday Massacre was all too real. The senseless murder of eleven women and children in 1984 will live on as one of the ugliest moments in New York City history and possibly one of the Big Apple’s greatest miscarriages of justice. The story you read and the outcome have most certainly been altered, but I’m confident you’ll be able to piece together the truth for yourself.
I thought you might find it interesting if I provided a smattering of the facts and observations surrounding the actual event. It might lead you to arrive at the same conclusions Steady did.
Hope to see you around.
Best regards,
Larry Kelter
The Palm Sunday Massacre
Palm Sunday, April 15, 1984—Dubbed the Palm Sunday Massacre by the press, 1080 Liberty Avenue, Brooklyn became what was at the time the scene of the largest mass murder in New York City history. Christopher Thomas wasn’t a saint. He wasn’t much of anything—nothing more than a low-level street criminal with no guaranteed tomorrows. He had a substantial rap sheet and at the time of his arrest on mass murder charges was sitting in the Bronx House of Detention, dazed, confused, and unsure of what was happening to him. He’s wasn’t exactly the kind of guy you’d go to bat for, and no one did. The public wanted blood. They wanted a monster. And they were given a monster, a simple man incapable of advocating for himself, who’d been made to look like someone much worse than he was. Of greater significance—an embattled Mayor Koch was fighting to win reelection, Police Commissioner Benjamin Ward was about to be shown the door, and the mob sought to insulate itself against the long-echoing murders that followed the Lufthansa Heist. It was perhaps the most threatening convergence of evil ever assembled to railroad one simple man into jail.
Not far from the scene of the crime, the Lucchese and Gambino crime families were still recovering from the aftermath of the infamous “Lufthansa Heist” at JFK Airport. The Gambino boss, “Big Paulie” Castellano, was struggling to hold onto control of the most powerful crime family in New York City and stay out of jail. Big Paulie, already concerned about the arrests of two members of John Gotti’s Bergin Crew on major drug charges, had just come under Federal indictment himself.
Big Paulie had been asking Gotti to obtain defense copies of incriminating FBI recordings made of members of his Bergin Crew for fear that this information might take him down as well. If Big Paulie got his hands on these tapes, Gotti would’ve had good reason to fear for his life and the life of his younger brother, Gene.
Mayor Koch was vying for reelection in a city overwhelmed by racial tension.
Newly appointed Police Commissioner Benjamin Ward was on shaky ground. He was desperate to hold onto his position and shore up his crumbling reputation.
The massacre of eleven Puerto Rican women and children just upped the ante.
Among those sadly forgotten victims was an unborn child. There was also one miraculous survivor who was subsequently adopted by a female police officer, who rose to become NYPD’s highest-ranking female official.
The Palm Sunday Massacre is the story of the brutal massacre of eleven women and children and of how the police, prosecutors, and the Italian mob came together in a sinister confluence of events to convict an innocent African American man.
While under extreme emotional disturbance, Christopher Thomas stood accused and was found guilty of ten counts of first-degree manslaughter on July 19, 1985. He was finally released from prison on March 30, 2018, more than three decades later. He has always maintained his innocence.
Acknowledgements
It takes tons of work to generate a quality novel and I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the help I receive from my wife, Isabella, the unsung hero of my work who quietly reads late into the night to make sure that each and every one of my books is the best it can be.
At a time when good people are particularly hard to find, this author struck gold with Shawn Reilly Simmons and the LBB family. Happy to be aboard. A tip of the hat to a certain retired NYPD police officer for prying my eyes wide open.
About the Author
Lawrence Kelter hails from New York but now calls High Point, North Carolina his home. He is the bestselling author of more than twenty-five mystery and thriller novels including the Stephanie Chalice Mystery Series that has topped bestseller lists in the US, UK, and Australia. In 2017 he penned Back to Brooklyn, the studio-authorized sequel to the cult comedy classic “My Cousin Vinny.”
Early in his writing career he received direction from literary icon, Nelson DeMille, who edited portions of his early work. Well before he said, “Lawrence Kelter is an exciting new novelist, who reminds me of an early Robert Ludlum,” he said, “Kid, your work needs editing, but that’s a hell of a lot better than not having talent. Keep it up!”
His novels are quickly paced and crammed full of twists, turns, and laughs.
Lawrence Kelter, Into the Groove
