O’Malley and Johnson walked into the interrogation room and sat
across from Fat Louie DeMaio. Fat Louie sat all calm and collected like a
guinea Buddha. He didn’t look calm at first glance because he was sweating like
a pig. But that was because of his thermostat, not his energy. He was stoic,
almost meditative as he waited. Louie was cuffed to the table and had to lean
slightly forward because he was too fat to sit back as his stomach kept him
away from the edge of the table.
O’Malley gestured to Johnson. “Why don’t you unhook this fine
gentleman, Detective Johnson, so we can have a little chat?” Johnson grimaced
but went across the table and unlocked the cuffs. Fat Louie sat back and rubbed
his wrist that had been severely chaffed by the cuffs, as usual were too small
for his meaty wrist. He looked at O’Malley expectantly as if he had to answer
as to why he was sitting there in a too-small chair in a too-small room.
“Well, boyo, it looks like we need some answers from you. Detective Johnson has some questions, and it would behoove you to answer.” Fat Louie smiled and said, “I would be happy to help if I can, Detective. Who are you, by the way? I didn’t catch the name.” O’Malley smiled. This one was sharp. “Detective Sergeant O’Malley, to be sure, Mr. DeMaio. I am in charge of this little merry band, and I would appreciate it if you would answer us truthfully and clearly so we can get you out of here as expeditiously as possible.” “Fair enough, Sergeant, but I don’t see how I can help youse. I told Detective Johnson that I only knew the girl in passing as someone to buy flowers from and no more. We met maybe three times in all. You know who I am, I guess?” “I am aware,” O’Malley said. “None of the boys knew anything more. Certainly, Mr. Aiello didn’t. How can I help?” O’Malley turned to Johnson, “Yes, how can he help Detective?” Johnson silently fumed as he regretted bringing this fat fuck into the station. His temper was going to get him in deep shit someday. “I think you know something more than you are telling us. Is there any word on the street about these killings? The girl worked a block away from you. Didn’t any of your mooks hit on her and try to get over? I know how you guinea bastards operate. This is bullshit man because you have your ear to the street and you have to know something. Give me something, and you can walk out of here.” Fat Louie just gave him the dead eye. “I don’t have any idea what you are talking about. Nobody has been talking about these murders except as it being a shame. It has nothing to do with us. You know that is not what we do. The only other thing I can tell you is that she worked at the Ace Hardware on Court Street. Maybe she got in a beef there or something. The guys there were more likely to hit on her and try to get over. She wasn’t the type of girl my guys go for. They don’t stick it in hipsters. It’s beneath them. So, you see, I don’t know anything.”