Free Condemned by John Nicholas Iannuzzi

an early party of four white suburban theater-goers, the dining room was empty. Red Hardie and Money Dozier sat alone in the last banquette in the lounge area. They had come directly from the long strategy meeting at Marty Adams’ law office, a meeting prompted by Leppard’s nose bleed, the Judge’s threat to revoke Red’s bail, her plan to bring Sandro Luca back into the case, and all that occurred earlier in the day.
    â€œYou want another drink, Mr. Red?” asked Money as he drained his glass of Chivas Regal.
    â€œI’m okay, Money.” Red’s attention was focused on the wood paneling of the wall across from their table.
    The Midnight Café was not a regular stop for Red and Money. In fact, they hardly ever patronized the place. Not that they stayed away purposely. For no particular reason, the Café had never made it onto Red’s list of usual stops. Which is precisely the reason it had surprised Money—and the surveillance crew following them—when he suggested they stop there before heading home. When the doorman, and then the proprietor, saw Red and Money at the door, they were elated to have such notables join them. Red declined the booth usually occupied by the proprietor, right up in front, preferring, instead, a banquette tucked away in the back corner of the lounge.
    Money signaled the waitress, a light skinned young woman with a taut body clad in an ultra-short black dress with substantial decolletage. The owner had especially assigned her to their table.
    â€œWhat can I get you, gentlemen?” the waitress said with a wide smile. She knew very well who the two men were. Everyone in Harlem knew.
    â€œI’ll have another of these,” said Money, shaking the ice cubes within his empty glass, his eyelids fluttering.
    â€œCan I get you another?” the waitress smiled toward Red.
    â€œHmmm. No, no, I’m fine just now,” Red glanced and smiled momentarily at the waitress. She turned to see where Red’s attention was focused.
    â€œWhat’s causin’ you consternation, Mr. Red?” Money asked as the waitress left.
    â€œEvery day is something new, something weird, Money. Can you imagine, that damn little witch thinks I had something to do with the lawyer’s nose bleeding!”
    Money shook his head slowly.
    â€œOn top of that, we can’t even have ourselves a quiet drink without that tail they tied on us.” Red chuckled now, softly. “They must be going crazy out there. They don’t have a bug in here, that’s for sure. And the people at the door won’t let them in—so they’re euchred. Have to sit in their ugly little car and wait.”
    The waitress put a fresh drink in front of Money. “You sure you don’t want anything?” she said to Red, smiling.
    â€œI’m fine, honey. You know what we were talking about in court today—” Red stopped, smiled, waiting for the waitress to leave, “—you know, about a snitch.” Money nodded. “I mean, look at the places the Man has raided, the stashes of cash supposed to be safe that they grabbed, even, sometimes, knowing the strategy we come up with for the trial. Somebody’s got to be feeding them inside information. That’s the reason I told you to empty the cash out of some places personally, before they got to it.”
    â€œYou tell me who this snitch is, Mr. Red, when you figure out.”
    â€œYou can eliminate the lawyers,” said Red. “They’d know the strategy, but not the safe places.”
    Money’s jaw muscles flexed tautly as he picked up his drink. “You figure it’s one of the Defendants?”
    â€œHard to imagine. Why would one of the Defendants be doing something to hurt himself?”
    Money shrugged.
    â€œCould be one of the Defendant’s people, though, a wife, a girl friend—” Red picked up his empty glass and turned to look toward the front of