Fathers Day

Lenny strolled past the nurse’s station, looking for Carmine. He hoped he could remember Frank’s plan clearly enough to explain it to him and get him to go along with it.

"Oh, it’s you," said the doctor who had treated Carmine earlier, coming around the desk. "Do you know where your friend is?"

"Hi, doc. Nope, I was just looking for him myself. What’s up?"

The doctor pulled out a folder. "I have his test results here. He seemed anxious about the outcome."

"Test results?" asked Lenny. "Oh, wait, you mean the paternity test?"

The doctor looked around, a somewhat embarrassed expression on his face. "I really shouldn’t say, but since Mr. Ragusa obviously already told you what they were for, yes. These are the paternity test results."

"Wow, that was really fast," noted Lenny.

"Well, it helped that we already had the father’s information noted down. So do you know where…?"

"Wait a minute," said Lenny, puzzled. "What do you mean, you already had the father’s information? Didn’t you just take the samples from Carmine and Frank?"

"From Carmine, yes," said the doctor. "But the father’s data was already recorded upon admittance a few days ago."

Lenny’s heart began to pound. "Upon admittance? No…that can’t…that would mean…Tony’s?"

The doctor’s cheeks flushed a bit. "I can’t give you your friend’s results, they’re up to him to share."

Lenny groaned. "You just did, though, didn’t you? The only father he has that’s been admitted to the hospital in the past few days was Tony Ragusa. Which means, Marie was wrong all those years ago…or she lied." Lenny smacked his forehead several times with the heel of his hand. "Carmine really is Tony’s son! Oh, geeze, this is gonna kill him. And Frank, the poor guy!"

"Yes, well," the doctor looked very uncomfortable. "When you seen the younger Mr. Ragusa, would you just tell him that these are ready?"

"Yeah, sure, doc. I’ll tell him. I don’t know how I’m gonna tell him, but I will." Lenny turned and wandered away, not paying attention to where he was going. He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut, how much worse would it be for Carmine and Frank? "All of the lies, all the revelations, all for nothing!" he grumbled. "This is so wrong, so very…."

Completely distracted, Lenny felt a jolt as he walked headlong into somebody. The somebody let out an "Omph!" and bounced off him, landing on the floor. Lenny looked down and saw that it was Squiggy.

"Hey!" exclaimed Squiggy, from the floor, looking very offended. "Watch where you’re…Len? Is that you?"

"Yeah, Squig. Sorry about that." He held out his hand and pulled his buddy to his feet.

Squiggy looked at him in confusion. "What are you doin’ all the way out here?"

"Look, I got no time to explain. I have to find Carmine and Frank." His eyes narrowed. "Say, what’re you doin’ here, anyway?"

"Actually, I’m lookin’ for Carmine myself. I got some bones to pick with him!"

"What are you talkin’ about?" asked Lenny.

"Carmine got into a tussle with my dad, Len. I gotta set him straight on that score." Squiggy tried to crack his knuckles, but they made no sound. He bent his fingers back and forth a few times, then gave up. "I mean, it’d be one thing if he went after that weasel what raised him, but my father…our father? He didn’t do nothin’ to deserve that!"

"Oh, really? Helmut actually had the gall to sic you on Carmine, after what he did? What did your dad do, Squig, ask you to finish the job?"

"Huh? He don’t even know I’m here! What’re you babbling about, anyway?"

"Look, Carmine may have lost his temper with your father, but he wound up in a whole lot worse shape for it. He’s lucky he didn’t break nothin’, or worse!"

Squiggy looked completely flummoxed. "Will you please stop talkin’ in riddles? You’re makin’ my head ache! Are you sayin’ something’s wrong with Carmine?"

"You really have no idea, do you," Lenny realized. He shook his head, then told Squiggy about finding Carmine in Tony’s house at the foot of the stairs.

By the time he was finished, Squiggy’s eyes were round like saucers. "So he is okay now, right?"

"He’s fine, no thanks to your father!" Lenny sighed. "Or at least he will be, until I find him and totally wreck his life."

"Well, good. But as for my father bein’ there when it happened?" Squiggy shook his head emphatically. "He’d never hurt nobody, especially not his own…hey, did Carmine tell you, by the way? ‘Cause if he didn’t, this is gonna come as quite a shock. I know it did to me. But Carmine’s old man…."

"Wait. Just hold it right there," Lenny groaned. "Your father told you that Carmine’s father ain’t his father, right?"

"That’s right. How did…."

"And he claimed that he is."

"Yeah! Ain’t that a kick in the pants? Carmine and I are brothers! I guess I should’ve known, we got the same blood type and the same swarthy good looks."

"Let me save you some time here," offered Lenny. "Your father told you and Carmine that he had an affair with Marie Ragusa and that Carmine wasn’t Tony’s son, he was his. Except he completely made it up. It was Frank DeFazio that had the affair with Marie, and he was Carmine’s real father. At least up until about five minutes ago, when apparently, he stopped being Carmine’s real father and Tony turned out to be his real father after all."

Squiggy just stared at him. Then he said, "Oh, you have got to be kidding me! My father’s scamming again?"

Lenny breathed a sigh of relief. No one understood him like Squiggy. "That’s right. He did worse than that, Squig. He was there when Carmine took that fall, probably even had something to do with it. But he was so keen on gettin’ his hands on the bank account numbers at Tony’s place, that he didn’t call for help. He just stole ‘em and ran off, leaving Carmine lying there out cold."

Squiggy looked miserable. "No! I told you, Len, you gotta be wrong about that. I mean, I can buy that he lied – he does that sometimes. But my father, he’s not a killer! That’s too far to go, even for him."

"Even if a whole lotta money is involved?" asked Lenny. "Squig, I’m real sorry to be dumpin’ all this on you, but the facts are pretty damning. It may have started out an accident…but your dad left Carmine there on purpose."

Squiggy looked as though he’d been slapped. "That’s why he didn’t want me lookin’ for Carmine after I picked him up. I guess he was just gonna wait around to hear if he made it or not, then come forward and play the grievin’ father. Geeze, Len, I shoulda known it was all too good to be true. My father wantin’ me to be part of something, all that dough comin’, and gettin’ a big brother who could kick everyone else’s butt for me to boot." He made a fist with his right hand and punched the palm of his left. "Dammit! I really wanted it to be real this time!"

Lenny nodded sympathetically. "I know you must be all confused and hurt right now."

Squiggy shrugged. "So what else is new?"

"What’s new is that you can do somethin’ about it."

"Like what?"

"Your old man was using Carmine to get at the money in Tony’s account By pretending to be Carmine’s father, he must’ve figured Carmine would share his good fortune with his new family. But after Carmine got hurt, I guess he thought he could still claim it as one of his heirs, once Tony was gone, too."

"He’s a crafty one," said Squiggy, without pride. "Crafty and patient, at least when it comes to a big score. I guess he figured Tony wasn’t long for this world, and if he…if Carmine…geeze, I can’t even say it."

"It’s okay. Look, Frank ‘s got an idea on how we can make at least this much right for Carmine, but we’re gonna need your help." Lenny studied his friend’s sad face. "You up for this?"

"Sure, whatever," said Squiggy, dejectedly. "I ain’t got much to lose."

"Even if it means helping to nail your own father to the wall?"

"Yeah. Even that." Squiggy’s forehead wrinkled. "Maybe especially that!"

***

Lenny and Squiggy caught up with Carmine in the cafeteria, at which point Lenny filled him in on Frank’s plot. The strange thing to Squiggy was that Len left out the whole part about Tony being Carmine’s real father. Squiggy wondered why, but decided to play along and kept his trap shut about it, too.

Even more bizarre, Lenny looked up at one point and stared at some guy sitting nearby, all done up in a long dark coat. His expression darkened and he abruptly excused himself to follow the guy out of the cafeteria, leaving Squiggy to face Carmine alone across the cafeteria table.

"Soooo," said Squiggy, struggling for something to say.

"Yeah," said Carmine, drumming his fingertips on the table.

Squiggy cleared his throat. "I guess you must be pretty mad at me."

"Why?"

"Well, you know, my father jerkin’ you around, tryin’ to steal your inheritance, and almost killin’ you."

"Oh, that?" said Carmine, with a sardonic smile. "Yeah, I suppose I am a little bit annoyed by all that. But none of it was your fault, Squig. You didn’t know what your father was up to. Did you?"

"No! No way! I’m a lot of things, Carmine, but I ain't no thief or murderer. I swear…."

"Calm down, Squiggy," said Carmine with a sigh. "I believe you."

"I mean, I knew there was money involved, but I really believed him when he said you was my long-lost brother. I was even a little…um…." He broke off, tugging at the lock of hair on his forehead.

"A little…?"

Squiggy’s shoulders slumped. "Happy about it. Okay? You satisfied? I was happy about it. I guess that’s why I didn’t ask too many questions."

Carmine raised his eyebrows slightly. "You were actually glad that I was your half-brother? Why?"

Stirring uncomfortably in his seat, Squiggy replied, "Well I know you think I’m pond scum, but, well, if we was related, you kinda would have to like me anyways. I mean, you can’t choose your relatives, right, so you have to take ‘em as they come."

"Oh, I wouldn’t say that." Carmine frowned, then shook his head as if ridding himself of unpleasant thoughts. "Besides, what do you care what I think about you, Squig? You don’t even like me."

"What makes you say that?" asked Squiggy, startled.

"Because it’s true. I mean, you’re not exactly subtle about how much you resent Lenny and I being friends."

"Well, yeah, but that’s only because you took him away from me! Between you and that wife of his, he’s got almost no time for me anymore." Squiggy took a breath. "Not that I blame you guys. I mean, how could you not like Len? He’s…well…likeable."

Carmine nodded in agreement. "But that doesn’t mean we took him away from you, Squig. Len’s got more people in his life now that he’s grown up a lot and gotten married. That doesn’t mean you aren’t still his best buddy."

"Aw, c’mon, you know that ain’t true no more! You guys hang out way more than he and I do. And since you don’t think I’m worth nothin’, that means I see Len about zero of the time!" Squiggy was surprised at how angry he really was about all of it. He glared at Carmine, unable to stop the words from flowing. "If you had been my brother, you would’ve had to change your tune about me, let me hang out with you, treated me like a pal! But now…now I guess we’re back where we always was. You’re Mister Popular, and I’m Mister Nothing!"

Carmine looked genuinely surprised. "Squig, I don’t think you’re nothing. Do I really make you feel like that?"

"Yeah! You always have, since we was kids on the playground and you wouldn’t pick me for kickball, except when you wanted to lob the ball at my head."

"Geeze, Squig, that’s an awfully long time ago. I threw balls at lots of kids’ heads back then. I was angry a lot." Carmine looked away. "I know it wasn’t too nice of me to take it all out on you, or that Eraserhead guy, or anyone else I pushed around…but you can’t possibly hold it against me now! Can you?" He returned his dark eyes to Squiggy’s, who immediately shifted his gaze to the tabletop. "You do though, don’t you?"

"It isn’t just school stuff," said Squiggy, a little petulantly. "Even since we’ve been grown up, you’ve acted like I’m just a constant pain in your keister."

"Well, you usually are, Squig. Face it, you’re a little hard to take sometimes."

"Maybe so, maybe so. But that don’t mean I don’t feel bad when someone doesn’t like me." He paused, his eyes stinging. "It’s bad enough my own mother can’t hardly stand to have me around and my father only wants me when he thinks I can help him with a con job. But you guys, Lenny, Laverne, Shirley, and yeah, even you…you’re supposed to be my friends. We’ve known each other for a lot of years now, been through some pretty wild stuff. That should all count for somethin’, shouldn’t it?"

Carmine was silent. He tapped the table a few more times, before responding. "I’m sorry."

"Come again?"

"I said, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I treated you bad when we were kids and I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t like you since we’ve been adults."

"Do you really mean that?" asked Squiggy, his voice quieter than usual.

Carmine nodded, smiling thinly. "Yeah, I do. Look, we may not be brothers, Squig, but you’re right. We’ve known each other for a long time now and we have a lot of people in common. I got to know Lenny a lot better over the past couple of years and it turns out that he’s a really great guy. I know he still considers you his best friend and has a lot of respect for you, and that’s gotta mean something, right?"

"It means Lenny should get to know more people," said Squiggy with a half-smile.

Carmine laughed. "Probably true. But I think it also means that if I gave you a chance, who knows? Maybe we could get along better, too. I’m willing to give it a try, if you are." He held out his hand across the table.

Squiggy stared at it as though it might hurt him. Then he reached out and grasped it. "I think you’d have been a pretty decent big brother, Carmine," he said, still feeling a little choked up.

"Thanks," said Carmine, giving his hand a firm shake. "I think you’d have been an okay little brother, too. Andy."

Squiggy nodded, releasing Carmine’s hand. He sat back, waiting until he trusted himself to speak again. "So. Who do you think Len ran after all of a sudden?"

"I don’t know. I saw that guy before, though, lurking outside Tony’s room. I wonder what he wants?"

"Beats me." Squiggy glanced down at his wristwatch. "I gotta make the call now, I guess. To my father."

"Hey, thanks for doing this. I know it can’t be easy for you."

"It’s not," admitted Squiggy. "But you know what? I’m sick to death of Helmut Squigman waltzin’ in and out of my life, yankin’ my chain. I wish he wasn’t my father neither, I really mean that."

"That’s something I can definitely understand," said Carmine. "I’ve felt that way about Tony for years. ‘Course now, I finally got my wish." He smiled. "I’m finally free of that soulless bastard. Now I’ve got a father I can actually be proud of, and who likes me as I am. That’s pretty much the only thing that’s made this day worth living through."

Squiggy felt a pang in his heart, seeing how genuinely happy Carmine was. No wonder Len didn’t say anything, he thought. I’d rather chew glass than tell him the truth myself. "Um, so, you ready to get this show goin’?"

"Yeah," said Carmine, his smile fading. "You get ‘our’ father over here. I’ll take care of the rest."

***

The door to Tony Ragusa’s hospital room opened with a soft creaking sound. Carmine glanced up from his seat beside the bed and saw Helmut Squigman step into the room. His expression was an almost humorous mixture of hope and stark terror.

"Oh, good. You made it," said Carmine, rising to his feet.

Helmut took a step backward, leaning against the still open door. "Um, yeah. Andy said you, uh, wanted to see me?"

"Yeah. I sure did." Carmine swallowed hard, then added, "Dad."

Helmut’s eyebrows arched. "Dad? You called me Dad."

Carmine shrugged. "What else should I call you. You are my father. Unless you’d prefer Pop or…."

"No, no," said Helmut, relaxing slightly. "Dad’s just fine…son." He peered at Carmine closely. "So, you’re okay now. That’s, uh, good, yeah. Real good." He gave a crooked smile. "No hard feelings, huh?"

"Why should I have any hard feelings?" asked Carmine. He folded his arms casually. "The only weird thing is I can’t recall what happened back at the house. I can only remember you telling me that you were my father, and showing me my mom’s letter. After that, it’s all a blank."

"No kiddin’. Well, there wasn’t much else after that."

"No, no, apparently not. Squiggy filled me in, told me that you left and that sometime after that, I must’ve tripped and fallen down the stairs." His eyes narrowed. "Not one of my more graceful moments."

"Really? Andy said that, huh?" Helmut chuckled. He moved closer to Carmine. "Well, that’s exactly what happened, or must’ve happened, since I was long gone before your little tumble. Why, when Andy told me about your accident, I was beside myself, son, just beside myself!"

"I bet."

Helmut peered around Carmine at the bed. Following his gaze, Carmine nodded. "Yep, that’s Tony. He died about a half-hour ago. Guess his heart wasn’t mending as well as it seemed after all. I was out of the room for awhile and when I came back, the doctor told me he suddenly passed."

"Well, well. That’s a cryin’ shame," said Helmut. He walked over to the bed, looked down at the shape under the blanket. "Sorry about this, kid. Guess you’re a little sad."

Carmine heaved a sigh. "Eh. We weren’t exactly close. Not like a real father and son, you know. I guess he couldn’t get over that he wasn’t my mother’s true love."

"Right. Well, my boy, I’ve got some information that should cheer you up even more." Helmut reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. He handed it to Carmine. "This here is the account numbers I told you about…oh, wait, you don’t remember that conversation, do you?"

"No, but my brother told me all about them. So what are we supposed to do with those, now?"

"It’s simple, real simple. All you got to do is send the death certificate to the bank, along with your i.d. showin’ that you’re Tony’s sole heir. That’ll allow you to access the money and bring it over to the States. Some of these banks, they can make these transfers real quiet-like, under the government radar, so you won’t even get hit with taxes! You’ll be one rich young man." Helmut ran the tip of his tongue over his lips. "There’ll be plenty to take care of you and your little wifey, even enough left over for, say, anyone else you might like to share with."

"Really," said Carmine, pacing nonchalantly. "Just how much dough are we talking about, Dad?"

Helmut smiled broadly. "A half-million bucks."

Carmine stood stock-still. For a moment or two, he couldn’t breathe. "A…did you say a…." he stammered.

"Half. Million. Dollars. Yessiree Bob!"

"Jesus Christ." Carmine reached out for the small chair and held onto it for support. "How in the hell did Tony make that much money?" He gave his head a brisk shake. "I had no idea he had it in him."

"Had what, kid? He was a crook."

"Yeah, and apparently, he was a genius at it! I mean, my God! The brains it must’ve taken to get that much dough."

Helmut looked irritated. "Don’t be so impressed. It was me that was the real brains of the outfit! I’m the one that set up the whole scenario. All Tony did was find the patsy driver and hide the cash from the authorities when it all went south."

"No kidding," said Carmine, resting his chin in his hands. "Tell me about it, Dad. Tell me how you came up with this great scheme."

Helmut’s expression was smug. "Tony and I, we was workin’ at the can factory, same one most guys in town worked at back in the day. We worked the line, churnin’ out cans that they used at a bunch of food processing plants – vegetables, tuna fish, juice – stuff like that. It was a job, but we wasn’t gettin' rich doin’ it. Now, you gotta remember, this was during Prohibition. Everyone and their father who had half a brain and a little ambition was bootlegging liquor." He leaned a little closer to Carmine. "I knew some people, you know," and he touched the tip of his nose with his fingertip. "They was lookin’ for different ways to transport their booze, containers that no one would suspect had anything illegal in ‘em."

"Like, cans?" Carmine suggested.

"That’s right, like cans." Helmut stood up a little straighter. "Tony was the line foreman. He and I were buddies back then, so I went to him and asked for his help appropriatin’ some cans, a few here, a few there, not so many that management would notice. At night, when the line was shut down and Tony was lockin’ things up, I’d get the liquor from my associates, who had a still at that dance hall right near the factory. The one your mamma used to like so much. They’d bring the stuff over at night, through an underground tunnel connectin’ the two joints, then Tony and I’d fill up the cans.

"I knew this loser from the fish packing plant across town, their driver who’d pick up the cans and bring ‘em back to his plant in a truck. The guy never bothered to compare how many cans he was supposed to be pickin’ up to how many we actually gave him. I’d load the truck, making sure I gave him an extra case. Then two. Then more." Helmut laughed. "This maroon, he used to actually complain to me that some of the boxes of supposedly-empty cans were overpacked, ‘cause they was strainin’ his back to unload!"

Carmine nodded. "Go on. What happened once this ‘patsy’ was back at the fish packing place?"

"A coupla wiseguys on the payroll would pick up the ‘special’ boxes of cans on their end. We had ‘em marked, real subtle-like…again, my system…so they knew what to snag off the loadin’ dock. And bam! Bootleggers had their booze, all neatly disguised and transported clean across town. It was a perfect scheme, my boy, flawless, and Tony and me? We were well compensated for our efforts." Helmut looked down at the body on the bed and his smile faded.

"Couldn’t have been all that flawless," Carmine remarked. "Or you guys would’ve spent all that dough instead of stashing it in Switzerland."

"Yeah, well, it wasn’t my fault, let me tell you!" snapped Helmut. "The authorities got wind of what was goin’ on, somehow, and they started sniffin’ around me and Tony. My associates, they hightailed it out of there, took down the still, and poof! No more income and only me and Tony left to take the fall."

His expression darkened. "Tony, the rat fink, comes to me and says he’s gotta protect himself. He was engaged to your mamma at the time, and there was no way he was goin’ to jail and missin’ out on bein’ with Marie. So he tells me that one of his goombah friends knows all about stashin’ money out of the country, so’s the authorities can’t trace it. He tells me to give him all my share and then sticks the whole kit’n’kaboodle in a Swiss account. What he neglected to mention was that only he would have the account number and passcode, only he or one of his survivor’s could use that info to get at the money. The lyin’, cheatin’, thievin’, son of a…."

"So he was never arrested?"

"Nope. Credit where credit’s due, he kept us both out of the clink. When the cops questioned us, they came up empty – no evidence tyin’ us to nothin.’. But they kept tabs on Tony and me for years, boyo. They were hopin’ one or the other would go for the cash and then they could finally get us. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t stick around town much; I couldn’t get any other deals cookin’ with the police always lookin’ over my shoulder."

"So Tony hid the money, from you and the authorities, but he couldn’t touch it." Carmine shook his head. "Thirty plus years of interest and he had a fortune, but it may as well have been treasure at the end of a rainbow. He never enjoyed a dime."

"Me, neither," groused Helmut. "I went to him, a few times over the decades, tryin’ to convince him to pass me a little here, a little there, but he wouldn’t do it. He was so afraid of goin’ to the slammer." He sighed. "Oh, well. It don’t matter anymore. Tony’s in hell and you’re gonna get it all. I can only hope, my dear sonny boy, that you’ll find it in your heart to compensate an old man for his share of the booty."

Carmine slowly rose to his feet. "What makes you think that I can get that money without the cops moving in now?"

Helmut grinned, his eyes shiny. "Because they ain’t after you. You never committed a crime. I checked into it, real good, and that dough is yours to inherit, free and clear of any chance of prosecution. Besides, the statute of limitation has run out by now, so whatever you deem fair to share with me and your little brother, the cops can’t use it to get me, neither. It’s perfect, sonny. Perfect!"

"Wow." Carmine shook his head and chuckled, without humor. "That’s a truly amazing little story, Helmut. I’m really glad you shared it with us."

"Yeah, I…wait a minute." Helmut’s grin faded. "Us?" He glanced around the room. "What us? There’s only you and me in here. Oh, and the corpse."

"Watch who yer callin’ a corpse, Squigman," said Tony, throwing back the blanket that had covered him from head to toe. He took a deep gulp of air. "Christ, took you long enough to cough it all out! I almost suffocated in there!"

Carmine rolled his eyes. "No one said undercover work was easy. You heard it all?"

"Every last word."

Helmut looked down at Tony, stunned, then glanced over at Carmine. "What…what the hell is goin’ on here? What is this?"

"This is you, confessing in front of witnesses," said Carmine. "You’re in big trouble, Daddy!"

"I…what? Huh?" He started to back out the door. "I don’t know what you guys think you’re up to, but…."

"Goin’ somewhere, Dad?" asked Squiggy, stepping into the doorway, effectively cutting off Helmut’s exit.

"Andy!" Helmut looked relieved. "Thank God you’re here, son. Your brother here, he’s tryin’ to pull somethin’."

"Oh, really," sneered Squiggy. "So that whole little tale you just told, what was that, a bedtime story you made up?"

"No, no…wait. I mean, yeah. Right, I just made all that up! Ha, ha…never happened." He looked over at Carmine and Tony, hopefully.

Carmine strode over to Helmut and yanked the piece of paper away that was still clasped in his hand. "Oh, so then I guess when I use these, nothing will happen."

Helmut’s face fell. "That don’t necessarily prove nothin’. I mean, that dough’s in Tony’s name, not mine. Say, why you doin’ this, Carmine? You’re my own flesh and blood!"

"Don’t make me sick!" snarled Carmine, shoving Helmut back against the wall. "There ain’t nothing tying me to you, you lying sack of…."

"Carmine!" warned Frank, coming into the room. "Don’t do it, son. Let the authorities take care him, they’ll give him what he deserves."

"What do you have to do with any of this anyway, Frankie?" asked Helmut, glaring at him over Carmine’s shoulder. He shoved the younger man out of his way and advanced on Frank. "You weren’t involved in any of this, back in the day."

"No, no I wasn’t. I just did my job and went home, just like most decent, hard-workin’ folks in that factory." He stood toe to toe with Helmut. "I’ll tell ya what I got to do with this!" He grabbed Helmut with one, large hand and used the other to search his pockets, until he found a crumpled piece of stationery. Withdrawing it, he released Helmut and walked with it over to Carmine. "Is this it?"

Carmine glanced at the letter and nodded. "Yeah. That’s my mother’s letter."

Helmut visibly paled. "Hey, Frankie, about that. I was tryin’ to do you and Marie a favor, you know, pickin’ that up after you dropped it in the dance hall. You ran out and then she ran out…anyone could’ve found it."

"But they didn’t, ‘cause you took it," said Frank. He moved closer to Helmut again, who backpedaled until he was pressed up against the wall. "So why’d ya keep it all these years? What good was it to you?"

"He showed it to me," said Tony. "Gave it to me as proof that Marie was cheatin’. He knew I suspected, just wasn’t sure who the lucky fella was. Helmut’s the one that told me it was you, Frankie."

Frank’s jaw clenched. "You spineless, backstabbin’ son of a bitch! Why? What was in it for you?"

"I…I don’t really know," Helmut confessed. "I really had the hots for Marie at one time, but she was always distracted by Tony. And you, I guess."

"Meanin’ she wouldn’t waste the time of day on you, as much as you sniffed around her like a dog in heat," Tony snorted. "Even my slut wife had her standards!"

Helmut’s face flushed. "It had to be the dough. Knowin’ you had it and I didn’t – why else would she choose you over me? Anyway, then I saw your little scene, Frankie, and I got curious. After I read what she’d written to you? I don’t know. I guess I was a little jealous, so I decided to go to Tony, get back at her a little."

"And then what? You just kept the note as a souvenir?" asked Frank.

Helmut hung his head. "I just wanted to have somethin’ of hers, that’s all."

"You’re completely pathetic," said Carmine.

"Yeah, well, maybe so. But it sure came in handy when I heard about Tony’s little heart attack. I worked out this whole scheme and that letter there, that was my piece de resistance, as they say." He gave Carmine a nasty look. "Sure convinced you, didn’t it, smart guy?"

"For about five minutes. Even if Frank hadn’t told me the truth, your leaving me to die back at the house made it perfectly clear I wasn’t your son!" Carmine looked at him in disgust. "No one would do that to their own kid! Hell, no decent human being would do that to a stranger!"

"Oh, so your little memory problem cleared up, huh?" Helmut shrugged. "Hey, it ain’t like I set out to kill ya, pal. But when opportunity knocks…."

Squiggy looked horrified. "You really did it, didn’t you. You…geeze, just when I think I can’t be any more ashamed of you, congratulations! You just took low to a whole new level of lowness!"

Helmut looked at each of them, then spat on the floor. "Screw you all. What’ve you got on me? No one can prove I intentionally did anything to Carmine! As for his not bein’ my son, hey, the letter wasn’t specific. It could’ve been an honest misunderstanding on my part, seeing as Marie’s not around to confirm or deny any relationship we may have had. And as for the rest of it, the statute of limitation ran out, so who cares?"

"Oh, there’s someone left who cares," said a steely voice from the doorway. The tall man in the trenchcoat walked through the door, with Lenny right behind him. He removed his dark glasses and slipped them neatly into his pocket.

"Besides," added Lenny. "It ain’t exactly the cops we’re turnin’ you into."

"It’s not?" Helmut looked slightly relieved. "Who else is there?"

"Yeah, Len," said Carmine, equally confused. "I thought that’s who you were bringing."

"No. I’m afraid Helmut’s right about that statute of limitation running out. Fortunately, Lenny caught up with me, instead." The tall man gave Helmut a wicked grin, his dark blue eyes twinkling. Carmine looked at him closely for the first time, and realized how much he and Lenny resembled one another.

"And you are?" asked Frank, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Name’s Stanley Kosnowski."

"Stanley…Kosnowski?" Squiggy’s eyes widened. "That’s Lenny’s father’s name!"

"That is Lenny’s father," said Carmine, nodding in realization. "But what’s he got to do with all this?"

"Kosnowski? Oh, you have got to be kiddin’ me," groaned Helmut, burying his face in his hands.

"Yeah," demanded Tony. "What kinda cop are you supposed to be?"

"No kind." Stanley reached into his pocket, withdrew a badge, and advanced on Helmut. "I’m something much, much worse." He winked. "I’m the IRS."

***

Helmut Squigman was handcuffed and led away by another federal agent Stanley Kosnowski had waiting in the hallway. Squiggy watched him go, ignoring his pleas for assistance, until he was out of sight. Then, without looking at anyone, he mumbled something about going to the cafeteria and slunk off. After he left, Stanley leaned against the wall of Tony’s room and explained to Lenny, Carmine, Tony, and Frank just what had been going on.

"I don’t believe it," said Tony when he had finished.

"I’m still findin’ it hard to believe myself," replied Lenny with a proud grin.

"You are telling me that you, Stanley Kosnowski, a driver for a fish packing plant, went on to become a G-man?" Tony shook his head. "No damn way. You barely had the brains to handle that truck!"

Stanley gave Tony an icy look. "I know, it was a big career change. But back when I drivin’ for Pfister Fish Packing, you and Helmut conned me into getting involved in some dirty goings-on. Oh, it took me a little while to figure it out, Tony, but I did. Ever wonder who ratted you guys out to the cops?"

Tony glared at him, but said nothing.

"It always bugged me that they weren’t able to put you away. For years, I thought about how crooks like you were running around, using innocent people, and getting away with it. Finally, after my kids were out on their own, I decided to do something about it." He smiled. "I used my old connections from when I informed on you and found out about a government opportunity. I was hoping for FBI, but the IRS had an opening for an investigator, so I took that. Turned out I had a knack for tracking down bad guys."

"So my father had a secret, too." Lenny clapped him on the back. "But at least his was really, really cool!"

"I’ve had a decent career, but you two, Tony? You were the ones that got away. I knew the statute had run out on your crimes, but I also knew that I could still nail you for tax evasion, assuming you still had all that money the wiseguys paid you. Fortunately for me, you were as crafty as I gave you credit for."

"That’s assumin’ I let you get at that account," snarled Tony. "Since I ain’t dead, the boy here ain’t gettin' access. It’s all still mine."

"Except for one thing," said Carmine. "I still have the numbers." He turned and handed the paper Helmut had given him over to Stanley. "These should be all you need."

"Why, you ungrateful…." began Tony, nearly rising from his bed.

"Shut up!" snapped Frank. "Just you shut up!"

"Hey, I did what you asked, Frankie. I played my part in sendin’ Helmut behind bars for hurtin’ the boy there." He settled back on the bed. "I was doin’ you a favor, Carmine, in case you already forgot, and this is how you thank me!"

Carmine didn’t even look at him. "Thanks. So, Agent Kosnowski, is that all you need? Because if it is, I’d like to get out of this room now."

"Sure, sure. Thanks for all your help," said Stanley. Carmine nodded, then headed out into the hallway.

"So," said Tony, the defiance in his voice betrayed by the naked fear in his eyes. "You gonna haul me outta my deathbed and off to a prison cell, Kosnowski?"

"Tempting though that is," Stanley replied. "No. The doctors won’t release you just yet, they say in your condition, you probably wouldn’t survive being handcuffed, let alone incarcerated." He smiled cheerily. "But don’t worry, I can wait until you’ve recovered. I’m nothing if not patient."

"Obviously," said Frank, with a touch of admiration in his voice. Tony just muttered something under his breath and looked away.

"Wow, all that dough, and he’s not gonna ever get a red cent?" asked Lenny. "That’s gotta almost be punishment enough."

"Almost," said Stanley. His smile faded a bit. "Unfortunately, he’ll still get some. Now that the criminal statute’s out, all the government can seize is what he owes in back taxes. A chunk will be left over that actually belongs to Tony…and Helmut, I suppose, although that’s up to the two of them to duke out."

"Like I ever meant to give that lowlife excuse for a partner a dime," grumbled Tony.

"Yeah, well, don’t worry, son," said Stanley, winking at Lenny. "Whatever he gets will probably go to lawyers anyway."

It’s too bad it won’t go to Carmine anymore, Lenny thought. At least he’d be getting something for all this. Lenny stiffened, realizing all of a sudden that he had never gotten the chance to tell Carmine about the paternity test results. After he had run out of the cafeteria and caught up with the man who turned out to be his own father, he’d totally forgotten about everything else.

"I gotta step out for a minute," Lenny said hastily.

But before he could get to the door, Carmine came back into the room. One look at his face told Lenny he was too late. "Carmine," he began.

"I need to speak to…to Tony. Alone," said Carmine, in an unusually subdued tone. "Can you all excuse us for a little while?"

Frank looked at him. "You okay? You look a little pale."

"I’m fine," Carmine responded, his eyes fixed on the middle of the floor. "Please, I just need a minute. Is that okay?"

Lenny glanced over at his father, who shrugged. "Sure. It ain’t like Tony’s going anywhere. At least," he added, wagging a finger at the older man. "Not today."

They filed out. Lenny paused as he passed Carmine and whispered, "I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you myself…."

Carmine’s sad, dark eyes met his and Lenny felt his own heart sink in sympathy. He nodded once, apologetically, then continued on out the door. A moment later, he watched the door close.

"What do you suppose that’s all about?" asked Frank. "I thought he was through with Tony."

Lenny wondered if he should say anything to his father-in-law, but decided against it. At this point, it was Carmine’s choice how and when to break the news to him. So he simply replied, "Dunno. Maybe he wants to say goodbye."

"Maybe. Say, how’s Squiggy doin’? He didn’t go with his dad, did he?"

"Oh, no. I think Squig’s finally all done with his poor excuse for a father. Naw, he went to the cafeteria, probably for a shot of milk and Bosco. It always cheers him up."

"So do you," said Frank, pointedly.

"Yeah. You’re right. Maybe I oughta join him." Lenny turned to his father. "So, Pappa, you gonna be stickin’ around Milwaukee until Tony’s ready to go to the Big House?"

"You bet, son. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Besides, this is pretty much it for me, my last big job. I’m retiring in a few months."

"No kidding?" Lenny looked at him hopefully. "Does that mean you might actually find some time to fly out to California and meet my wife and the new baby that’ll be here around that time?"

Stanley clapped his on the shoulder affectionately. "Consider it a done deal. I’m sorry I missed your wedding, and I haven’t been much in contact with you since I joined the service. Most of my work was undercover, traveling a lot…."

"I understand," said Lenny. "I’m just glad it wasn’t personal."

"Of course not!" Stanley gave him a big bear hug that made Lenny gasp. "You’re my boy, Len, and I love you. Besides." He winked. "There may be one last, little, personal investigation with which you could help me out, if you’re interested."

"Really?" Lenny felt a surge of joy. "That’d be great! What is it? When does it start? I don’t know how much time I’ll have, what with my security job and the new baby, but I’m sure I can…."

"Relax, calm down," laughed his father. "Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time. We’ll have all the time we need."

Lenny nodded, then started to feel a little guilty. Here he was, all happy that his Pappa was back in his life, and meanwhile, his two closest buddies had just gotten their hearts ripped out by their fathers. He glanced at the closed hospital room door one last time and sighed. There wasn’t anything he could do for Carmine, not right now at least. But Squiggy was a different story. With a quick farewell to his father and Frank, Lenny turned and headed off toward the cafeteria.

***

"So, what is it, boy? Wanted one last chance to gloat?" asked Tony after Carmine had shut the door.

Carmine shook his head. He reached under his jacket and withdrew a folder, then tossed it onto the bed. "Trust me, this is nothing that would make me gloat."

"What is it?" Tony picked up the file in his shaking hands and looked inside. Carmine watched his expression become puzzled as he read. "Paternity test? What in the hell?" He looked up at Carmine, eyebrows knit together. "You want to rub my face in the fact that Frankie’s your daddy? Trust me, I’ve been chokin’ on that one for thirty years! I don’t need…."

"Will you just read the whole thing?" interrupted Carmine wearily.

Tony glared at him, then returned to reading the results. Carmine waited until he saw his eyes widen in shock. "Wait a minute. This says…is this sayin’ what I think it’s sayin’?"

"Yeah. Congratulations, you’re my father. Always have been." Carmine paused, nearly choking on his words. "Always will be."

"Dear God," murmured Tony. "How can this be? Marie told me…the timing…."

"Oh, come off it," snapped Carmine. "Didn’t it ever occur to you that that it was possible I was yours? You were married, for God’s sakes, you were with my mother back then! How accurately was anyone able to pinpoint conception thirty years ago, Dad?"

"The letter…Helmut showed me her letter to Frankie!" Tony was shaking his head. "She admitted it, boy, she was with him, too…she must’ve lied…."

"Or she was just plain wrong. It doesn’t matter, now. Here’s your proof, finally, that I am your son, not Frank’s, not anyone else’s. Yours." Carmine took a deep breath. "So, how’s that make you feel, knowing you used your own child, not Frank’s, but your very own child as a tool for revenge?"

Tony looked as though he might throw up. He was trembling all over now. "Carmine…I…I can’t believe it." He looked up, his dark eyes haunted. "You’re mine. You were mine, all along. All these years…my son…."

"Oh, so now I’m your son?" Carmine snorted. "One little test and poof! I mean something to you now? I was with you since birth, lived under your roof for umpteen years, and that meant nothing. Suddenly, with one piece of paper, I’m your son." He strode over to the bed and leaned over Tony, his face right above the older man’s. "Well guess what, Dad? It doesn’t change one damn thing for me! You’re nothing to me, not now, and you never will be!"

"Don’t say that, boy," whispered Tony, reaching up to touch his face. Carmine pulled back in disgust. "Carmine, don’t you see? This changes everything! Now that I know you’re not just some bastard…c’mon, you have to understand." He coughed, then cleared his throat. "I loved your mamma back then and when Helmut confirmed what I already suspected, that she was cheatin’ on me, well, somethin’ in me just snapped. The only thing that kept me together at all was revenge – plannin’ it, makin’ it happen day after day. Seein’ her suffer, and Frankie…."

"…and don’t forget me," growled Carmine, turning away. "I wish to everything holy that Frank was my father. That’s been the only good part of this whole, miserable day. But you know what? Even though he isn’t by biology, he still is and has always been the father I never had." He walked over to the door.

"Wait!" cried Tony, rearing up in the bed, then falling back again weakly. "Wait, son! Don’t go! It’s not too late, it doesn’t have to be! I’ve always cared a little, in spite of it all! Why’d you think I went along with Frankie today, or sent you your mamma’s ring…."

"Save it," said Carmine, his hand on the doorknob. "I just wanted you to know, for whatever time you got left on this Earth, that you destroyed an entire lifetime we could have had together as a real father and son for nothing. Your revenge was worthless, because it was all based on a mistake. I will continue to love and respect Frank like he was my father and I’ll get the same in return from him. He’ll get to enjoy my daughter and any other children I have as if they were part of his own family. As for you, you chose a long time ago not to be my father, so...."

"Carmine!" Tony’s voice was barely above a hoarse whisper.

"Goodbye," said Carmine. He opened the door and walked out of the room, then closed it behind him. He waited for a moment, his forehead resting against the door, listening to the frustrated cries from within. Then he straightened his shoulders and walked away, knowing it was for the last time.

***

It was a long plane ride home. Lenny sat next to Squiggy, Frank beside Carmine. Listening in, it quickly became clear to Lenny that Carmine had not told Frank the truth yet. A little troubled by this, he tapped Carmine on the shoulder. "Can I borrow you a sec?"

Carmine rose to his feet and followed Lenny to the back of the plane. "What’s up, Len?"

"You didn’t tell Frank yet, did you? About the paternity test…and Tony bein’ your father after all. Why?"

"First of all, Tony’s not my father. Oh, yeah, I know, biology says otherwise, but what’s that worth?" Carmine sighed. "Look, I’m not gonna lie to Frank, as much as I’d like to let him go on believing I’m his son by blood. Maybe if Laverne wasn’t in the picture…but I can’t blow apart her world over something that’s simply not true."

"Oh, good. I was really hopin’ you’d see it that way." Lenny grinned, relieved.

"I just want to let him have a few more hours, you know? He’s been so happy about it." Carmine looked over at Frank with a sad smile. "And I guess I’d like it to be real for the rest of this trip, too. It’s all I’ve got left, Len."

Lenny swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. "Okay. Don’t worry, I won’t say a word."

"Thanks." Carmine cleared his throat, then said, "So how’s Squig doing? He’s been awfully quiet this whole trip, and unusually awake."

"I know. I tried to talk to him about all of it, but he’s hardly said two words. I don’t know what else to do for him, he feels so rotten."

"Let me try," offered Carmine.

"Huh? Really?"

"Yeah, really." Carmine shrugged. "I can’t make it any worse, can I?"

"No," said Lenny, a bit uncertainly. "Um, you sure you want to spend time with Squig voluntarily?"

"He isn’t that bad."

"No, he’s really not. I’ve been tellin’ everyone that for years."

"Besides," added Carmine with a wry grin. "We were almost siblings

Lenny nodded. "Sure, give it a shot. I’ll switch seats with you for awhile."

***

They went back and sat down in each other’s seats. Squiggy looked at Carmine with surprise. "What’re you doin’?"

"Nothing. Just thought you might want to talk. Or not, that’s okay, too." Carmine settled into the seat and waited.

Staring at his shoes, Squiggy said, "Why would you want to talk to me? I’m just the guy whose old man tried to ruin your life."

"Oh, well, my old man – Tony I mean – he tried to do that long before you or Helmut came into the picture. You could say I’m used to it."

"Yeah, but you had to get used to it because of Helmut. He’s the one what exposed your mother’s little affair with Frank in the first place. Pretty much, all the misery you went through growin’ up was because of my daddy." He shook his head sadly. "I always knew, deep inside, that he was bad, Carmine. But he turned out to be worse than I ever imagined."

Carmine nodded. "That can be a hard thing to see in your own father. Believe me, I do understand."

"Yeah, but, what does that mean I am?" whispered Squiggy. "What’s the son of a creep bound to be but another creep? At least in your case, your real dad is a great guy. There’s hope for you."

Carmine flinched at this. He thought for a minute, then said, "Squig, I think there’s more to a person than their parents. You are your own man, not just Helmut Squigman’s son. There’s more to you than that, just like there’s more to me than Tony. There has to be."

"Oh, yeah? Like what, in my case? My mother ain’t much more of a prize than Helmut, and my sister, well, she’s just kinda in her own world. Who else is there?"

"There’s your friends," said Carmine. "The people you choose to be around you says a lot about who you really are. I’d like to think we’re all pretty decent folks."

"Yeah, you’re all okay, I guess."

"And what about the lady in your life? Rhonda’s a good person, if a little…well…she’s a good person. She really seems to like you, Squig. You think she’d be interested in a guy like Helmut?"

"Ech, Carmine, that’s just sick! I…oh." Squiggy paused, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Oh, I see what you’re sayin’. I guess if I was just like my father, no, she wouldn’t have never given me the time of day."

"There you go," said Carmine. "Look, I’ve made some bad moves in my life and yeah, I can blame Tony for some of them. But I’m also married to a wonderful woman and am raising a beautiful daughter with her, and doing pretty well as a father, if I do say so myself. If it was all about inheritance, there’s no way any of that would be true."

Squiggy looked at him, a hopeful expression replacing the look of despair he’d worn most of the evening. "So you’re sayin’ I ain’t destined to be pond scum forever?"

"I’m saying you never were. Take it from me, your almost big brother." Carmine grinned. "Leave Helmut where he belongs, in your past. Move on, live your life, and don’t be him. Be you."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, Carmine. I’ll give that a try." He smiled. "Thanks. You know, you’re a pretty okay guy when you’re not throwin’ things at my head."

"You’re welcome. Does this mean you don’t mind sharing Lenny with me anymore?"

Squiggy looked thoughtful. Then he said, "I guess I don’t mind, so long as you don’t hog him."

"Deal." Carmine looked at the backs of Lenny and Frank’s heads. They were talking excitedly about the baby, wondering if he’d be a baseball or football player. He felt a pang as he wondered whether Tony had ever had such a conversation with a friend before he was born.

Pushing the thought aside, Carmine stared out the window. Time to take my own advice and leave the past – and Tony – where they belong. It really doesn’t matter who my father is, it matters who I am. He pressed his hand against the window and closed his eyes. And maybe if I say that to myself often enough, someday I’ll actually believe it.