“You tell Capone and Lou to keep their fingers out of North Side pockets, or Bugs is gonna cut ‘em off, you get me?”

“Mmeha, mwii watchuh.”

“What?”

I rolled my eyes toward the gun and raised my eyebrows. It took Paulie a couple of seconds, but he got it.

“Damn it, Jimmy. Take the gun outta his mouth so I can figure out what the Hell he’s saying.”

The monolithic unibrow of the caveman standing in front of me wiggled like an angry caterpillar, and I could have sworn I saw a dim light flicker in the windows of his eyes. He grunted and took a step back. The barrel yanked loose of my mouth with a wet pop. The grey steel was shiny with my spit, and I ran my tongue over my teeth trying to get rid of the taste of gun oil. It wasn’t the worst thing I’d had in there, but I can’t say I wanted a second helping. Paulie growled to remind me he’d asked a question.

“I said, ‘Yeah, I gotcha,’ Paulie.”

“See there, Jimmy? I told you Frank was smarter than he looks.”

I almost blushed at the compliment.

“You go on home now, and tell your uncle what I said. If he don’t convince Capone to keep his business out of Bugs’ territory, folks on the south side of the line are gonna get shot.” Paulie laughed and Jimmy joined in, chuckling like a gelded donkey.

The two turned away and started toward their car. As Paulie opened the driver’s side door of his black Model-T, he glanced over at me. His smile bent his cheeks wide. “Hey, Frank, I’m curious. What kind of name is Ceefer anyway? It sure don’t sound Italian.”

I smiled right back. “It’s an old family name.”

“Well, you just make sure old Lou gets the message.” He slid into his seat.

Jimmy shook his head. “Lou Ceefer. Sounds foreign, Paulie.” He laughed as he hopped in the other side of the car. The barrel of his gun poked out the window after he closed the door. I could see them grinning behind the windshield.