"Yeah, yeah. I get it. Mr. Santucci. It was Mr. Santucci. He tell's us dis guy's looking for muscle."

"You're fucking kidding me. Uncle Carmine?"

"Yeah, yeah. We call this guy. He say's to rough up this guy, Picker. Ya know, put a scare into him. That's it, honest mister. Not personal, ya get me."

"Who's the guy, shitbrains?" Shitbrains? Did I really say that?

"Don't know. All done over the phone mister, honest. Dat's all I know."

"One last question. Did Carmine know?"

"No, Mr. Santucci knows nothing. He gave us the phone number. We made all the arrangements, honest."

I guess I would have to find out for myself. Two cop cars came racing down the street; lights flashing and sirens blaring. Damn neighbors. One cop in each car. Ever since the budget cuts some bean counter thought this would save taxpayer dollars. How is two cars cheaper than one?

The two police officers hop from their vehicles. One of them actually starts to go for his gun.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Officer One gives me a puzzled look. "Oh you wouldn't, would you?"

"Officer, you see that man there. The one with the broken wrist. The one that's bleeding profusely. My dog did that. Kato here is security trained. He has one mission in life, only one. To protect me. I guarantee, no shit, that if you even touch that gun, you will be dead before it clears the holster. Your buddy there might, and I say might, get off a shot. Doesn't matter. You'll be as dead as a doorknob." What does that even mean?

Officer One lowers his hand. Officer Two examines the scene, looks at me and said, "You're coming with us."

"With all due respect officer, fuck you. I'm the victim here. Look at the gun, look at the blackjack. For God's sake, look at these two morons. I've got things to do."

I slowly reach into my pocket and take out two business cards. "One card is mine, the other my lawyer's. Call him and set up a time for me to give a statement."