Free House Revenge by Mike Lawson Page A

New York. In Virginia, that same pack costs about five bucks, and it’s because sin taxes on cigarettes in Massachusetts and New York are the highest in the nation. So you go down to Virginia, buy a truckload of cigarettes for five bucks a pack, and sell them here for seven bucks, which the smokers like, and you make a profit of two dollars on every pack. The cigarettes get sold under the table in all the bars and mom-and-pop stores, who know they’re buying cigarettes without the state tax stamp, but they figure, hey, it’s not like they’re selling heroin.
    â€œAnyway, if Providence needs a couple guys to make a run to Richmond and bring back a truckload of cigarettes, then distribute the cigarettes all over Boston, they might call the McNultys. The chief in Revere figures they probably made the Providence connection the last time they were in prison.”
    â€œSo why haven’t they been arrested?”
    â€œBecause they’re the fleas on the dog, and the FBI and the organized crime guys in Providence are after the dog, not the fleas. They know the McNultys are there on the fringes but they’re not worth the energy for surveillances and warrants and wiretaps and all that rigmarole. And like I said, we’re talking cigarettes.”
    â€œWhat about their connection to Sean Callahan?”
    O’Rourke shook his head. “Now that’s weird. Callahan went to school with those mutts and as near as I can tell, they’re still friends. But Callahan appears to be a standup citizen. He’s big into charities and he’s on Boston’s A-list, but for whatever reason, he gives the ­McNultys work. He’ll hire them for construction or demolition work but more often as haulers. Or, like he’s doing now, as his so-called building superintendents in the building where Dobbs lives.
    â€œSo I don’t know what else to tell you, DeMarco, except for this. Be careful with the McNultys. They’re dangerous. They’re the kind of guys who act first and think later. What I’m saying is, you make them mad, they’re liable to pick up a two-by-four and beat you to death because it won’t occur to them until later that killing you could land them in prison for life.”
    DeMarco wasn’t exactly sure what to do next, but thought he should go see a lawyer who specialized in property law. Although DeMarco may have been a lawyer, what he knew about property law could fit into a thimble. Or maybe half a thimble.
    The lawyer he had in mind was a guy named Dooley who he’d gone to law school with, and who now lived in Boston. DeMarco occasionally had a beer with Dooley when he visited the city on Mahoney’s behalf because he enjoyed Dooley’s company and liked his wife. He pulled out his phone to call Dooley, but before he could punch in the number, his phone rang. It was Elinore.
    â€œThe McNultys are here,” Elinore said, sounding out of breath.
    â€œAre they bothering you?”
    â€œNo, they’re just walking around the building. When I asked them what they were doing, they said they were doing their job, making sure everything’s working okay.”
    â€œSo is everything okay?”
    â€œYeah, for now. The power’s on and the water’s hot. The air-­conditioning’s still broke and when I asked about that, they said they had a guy coming out to look at the system, but I could tell they were lying.”
    â€œHuh,” DeMarco said. “But they haven’t threatened you or anything?”
    â€œNo, but they’re up to something. I called because I thought you might want to have a word with them.”
    â€œI do,” DeMarco said. “I’ll be right over.”
    â€œGood,” Elinore said.
    DeMarco again had to park a couple blocks from Elinore’s building because of all the construction work in the area. When he got to her place, he called her and asked if she knew where the McNultys