The below short story originally appeared in The Orchard
Press Online Mystery Magazine in 2009:
The Big Move
By Paul Davis
Dominic Fortino was forced to serve out many after school
detentions in the school’s small library.
Fortino was ordered to detention again on this particular day
due to his attempt to push Mr. Pidot’s desk out of a second story classroom
window.
Jonathan Pidot was a pompous, dumpy young man of 28 with an oversized head,
wispy light hair, and huge ears that turned bright red when he became angry or
frustrated. His cartoon character looks and high-pitch squeak of a voice made
him the perfect foil for teenage class clowns.
He was the most hated teacher in Thomas Junior High School in South
Philadelphia during the mid-1960s.
Pidot spent much of the day complaining about the excessive heat coming off the
radiators in his classroom. Although it was 30 degrees outside, it was close to
90 degrees in the classroom. Pidot threw open the classroom’s oversize windows
to let in the cold air, but it didn’t help much. The students were hot, but
many of them were glad that the biology test scheduled for that day was
postponed due to the heat and Pidot’s fit over the heat.
At one point Pidot told the class that he was going to confront the custodian
and walked out of the classroom. Fortino and a few other students jumped out of
their seats, picked up Pidot’s desk and attempted to push it out the window.
Although the open window was wide, the old, wooden desk jammed in the wood
widow frame, with half of the desk and two legs dangling over the Johnson
Street pavement. The more they tried to push the desk through the window, the
more it wedged firmly into the frame.
Someone called out that Pidot was coming and the students rushed back to their
seats. Fortino ignored the warning as he was determined to push the desk out of
the window with his brute force.
“What are you doing? Are you insane?” Pidot screamed in disbelief as he entered
the classroom.
Pidot was not amused by the prank, but the students’ laughter was heard
throughout the school. Pidot’s large ears were flaming red as he shrieked
insults at Fortino.
Fortino sat down in his seat calmly. He was impassive throughout Pidot’s verbal
assault, as he was twice Pidot’s size, and he feared no one. “Big Dom,” as
Fortino was known, was a teenager, but he looked like a forty-year-old man.
Make that a large, tough, and rugged 40-year-old.
Winded from screaming at Fortino, Pidot threw up his hands in disgust and
stormed out the classroom. He charged down the hall and bounced down the stairs
to the vice principal’s office on the first floor of the school.
Later in the vice principal’s office Fortino told her that he never intended to
push Pidot’s desk out of the window. It was just a joke. The vice principal was
not amused. She placed Fortino on suspension and ordered him to return to
school in a week’s time with his parents.
Pidot was not satisfied with the punishment and he insisted that Fortino also
serve detention. Pidot was big on detention. The vice principal agreed and
instructed Fortino to report to detention after classes.
At detention that afternoon in the library Pidot ordered Fortino to read
something — anything. A book was out of the question, so Fortino picked up a
magazine and glanced at the photos simply to placate Pidot, who sat nearby
grading papers and muttering.
The “desk in the window” stunt became a huge joke throughout the school. Even
the custodian, who had to dislodge the desk from the window frame, laughed
about it. Like the students, the custodian hated Pidot.
The stunt so irritated Pidot that with the vice principal’s permission he
formed a teacher’s committee with the goal of identifying and removing the
school’s 12 most disruptive students.
Of course, Fortino was one of the designed “12 Most Wanted.”
I was another.
I was a class clown and I used to crack jokes and offer sarcastic asides during
class. I always received a good laugh when I would mimic Pidot’s catch phrase,
“Is this a joke?” Pidot would often utter this phrase when students did not
meet his so-called high standards of learning.
Other students picked up on my impression and when Pidot walked through the
halls one would always hear several students in falsetto voices say “Is this a
joke?” This infuriated Pidot and he knew I was the originator.
I was an idea man as well. I pulled my own stupid stunts, but I also conceived
of pranks and mischief that Fortino and others went on to commit on my
suggestion. In fact, I must now admit that it was I who suggested we push
Pidot’s desk out the window. I hated Pidot and the feeling was mutual.
Pidot and his committee came up with the "Pidot Plan," which called
for teachers to watch the designated 12 Most Wanted, catch us, one-by-one, in
the act, and then transfer us to Daniel Boone, which was a special disciplinary
school for young hoodlums.
Pidot told his fellow teachers that Fortino, for example, was not only
disruptive; he was incapable of learning. One teacher on the committee, Mr.
Rockland, disagreed.
Ronald Rockland was a short fireplug of a man with short-cropped gray hair. He
was a tough, no-nonsense history teacher. We all thought he was a cool guy, and
no one would have dared to push his desk out of a window.
Rockland, who encouraged my dream of becoming a writer, along with my English
teacher, Mrs. Brancato, must have felt there was some hope for me, as he took
me aside and warned me about the Pidot Plan. He advised me to stay out of
trouble.
I continued to pull stunts, of course, but I was careful not to get caught.
Although I had in turn warned my fellow 12 Most Wanted about the Pidot Plan,
Fortino and nine other guys would eventually be kicked out of school and
shipped off to Daniel Boone.
Of the 12 Most Wanted, only Mike Rossini, who, amazingly, was a
straight-A-student, and me, a class clown, minor hoodlum and marginal student,
went on to graduate Thomas Junior High School.
I loved my three years at Thomas, even if I didn’t learn much there. I had a
lot of fun goofing off throughout school, which is probably why I’m not a
millionaire doctor living in the affluent Philadelphia suburb of Gladwyne
today.
And Pidot, I recently discovered, was wrong about Fortino.
He was capable of learning.
That afternoon in the school’s library Fortino sat and looked at magazine
photos of a luxury high-rise apartment in Center City Philadelphia. He stared
at the photos of a wealthy couple’s splendid furniture, electronic equipment
and art. He was impressed.
Fortino was so impressed that he vowed to one day steal it all.
Along with Fortino and most of our South Philly street corner gang, I dropped
out of high school in the late 1960s. I enlisted in the Navy when I was 17 in
1970 and I sailed off to Southeast Asia on an aircraft carrier. Fortino was
sent up the river the same year.
Fortino spent most of his late teens and early twenties incarcerated, and he
later became a member of the local mob.
I had not seen “Big Dom” Fortino in many years so I was somewhat taken aback
when I was contacted by his lawyer. Fortino was sitting in a federal cell
waiting to testify against his fellow criminals. He told his lawyer that he
wanted to offer me an exclusive interview before he entered the Witness
Protection Program and left Philadelphia.
According to the lawyer, Fortino read my column in the local paper. Well, I
suppose he may have glanced at my column photo, but knowing that he was not big
on reading, I doubted that he actually read my column.
I met with Fortino in the Federal Detention Center, located across the street
from the Federal Courthouse in Philadelphia. Big Dom had grown even bigger
since our last meeting. He was now a massive, muscular guy, wide as a truck,
and he had a face that only a hatchet could love. Fortino stood up and welcomed
me with a rib-breaking hug and a couple of hard slapping thuds on the back.
We sat down on chairs facing each other across a table. I set out my notebook,
pen and tape recorder on the table, and Fortino launched straight away into his
story.
Fortino was a member of a rough crew that worked out of John Doe’s Bar & Grill
in South Philadelphia. He had a reputation as a capable burglar and a vicious
and effective strong-arm guy. He and his crew hit stores and warehouses at
night. Fortino’s mob captain, Joseph “Joe Darts,” Argentieri, ran a major
bookmaking and loan sharking operation out of John Doe’s. Fortino, with his
killer-reputation and killer-looks, collected gambling and loan shark debts for
Argentieri.
When a doorman for a Philadelphia Center City high-rise apartment building fell
behind in his gambling debts, Fortino recalled his school days and saw an
opportunity to fulfill his dream of looting a high-rise, luxury
apartment.
The doorman, Bill Canfield, was a lean, hawk-faced, 50-year-old. He was a
fast-talking, ingratiating, compulsive, degenerate gambler. To clear some of
his dept and remain healthy, Canfield agreed to assist Fortino.
Canfield identified the richest tenant in the building as John Joyce, a
62-year-old real estate developer. Joyce was a balding, tall, thin, almost
frail man, who wore large glasses on his pinched face. He lived alone in his
vast apartment, and Canfield told Fortino that Joyce entered the lobby early
every Sunday morning after spending Saturday night at a girlfriend’s home.
When Joyce walked into the lobby that one Sunday morning Fortino walked up to
him and rammed the four-inch barrel of a .357 Smith & Weston revolver in
his side. He forced Joyce into the elevator and they rode up to his apartment.
With the gun barrel laid up against Joyce’s temple, Fortino had Joyce unlock
the door and disable the alarm system once they were inside. Fortino called down
and had his crew come up to the apartment. The four-man crew, dressed as moving
men, carried dollies, hand trucks and other moving equipment.
With swift and quiet efficiency, the four experienced men moved every stick of
furniture and household item out of the apartment. They moved the load into the
freight elevator and then out into a large moving truck that was parked in the
back of the building. If anyone happened to see the crew at work, they would
assume that a tenant was moving out of the building.
Joyce sat still in a dining room chair, too frightened to speak or move, as the
crew moved all of his belongings out the door.
“A rich guy like you should eat more,” Fortino said as he lifted Joyce from the
chair with ease. The chair was the last stick of furniture in the apartment,
and Fortino handed it to one of his crew. The large apartment was now empty
save for Joyce and Fortino.
Joyce was forced to take the elevator down to the garage with Fortino at his
side, and they drove off in Joyce’s Lincoln Town Car, one of three cars that he
had parked in the garage. They drove off towards North Philadelphia, while the
moving truck drove off in the opposite direction towards a wholesale candy
warehouse in South Philly.
Fortino swung the car to the curb near a subway stop on Broad Street. Fortino
was stealing the car as well, so he told Joyce to get out and take the subway
home.
“Call the cops when you get home and say you was robbed,” Fortino said as he
pushed Joyce out of the car. “Say you found the place cleaned out when you
got there. Got me?”
Joyce nodded in agreement.
“Hey, you’ll collect big-time on the insurance,” Fortino said with a grin. “Go
rob those guys.”
Then Fortino abruptly turned cold and menacing and yanked Joyce back into the
car. “But if you ever tell the cops about me or my guys, you’ll end up fuckin’
dead. Ya got me?”
Joyce again nodded in agreement and Fortino shoved him out into the street and
drove off.
Joyce initially followed Fortino’s instructions, but as this was a bold crime,
the detectives were persistent in their questioning. Joyce finally broke down
and told the detectives the true story. But Joyce, still fearing retribution
from the mad, giant criminal, claimed he could not identify any of the crooks,
even though Fortino’s photo was one of the mug shots laid before him.
A University of Penn graduate student who believed his superior intellect would
ensure that he made a killing on sports betting — but didn’t — was coerced into
working for Fortino. Alec Pines, called “Smart Alec” by the crooks, was a
grubby-looking nerd who appeared out of place among the rough-hewn, but better
dressed hoodlums. Fortino wanted Pines to report to the candy warehouse so he
could identify and place a value on the art, antique furniture and any other
items of special value.
This was a big score for Fortino. “Joe Darts” Argentieri, a slim, dapper,
silver-haired man of 60, was proud and happy as Pines added up the estimated
value of the score.
Argentieri and Fortino discussed “moving” – the criminal term for the
profitable disposal of stolen items — the contents of the lavish apartment.
Argentieri said he knew some people in New Jersey who would be very interested
in the haul.
“This is a big fuckin’ score,” Argentieri told Fortino. “You’ll get a lotta
respect for this work, I gotta tell ya, and you're gonna make us a lotta
fuckin’ money.”
This would have been a perfect score had not one of Fortino’s crew been
arrested by the FBI. The FBI pinched Steven Fritts on federal drug charges
unrelated to the apartment job. With a growing family and a growing drug-habit,
Fritts feared doing hard time in prison.
So he gave up Big Dom.
He told the FBI about the apartment job and the location of the warehouse. The
FBI and the Philadelphia Police raided the warehouse. They also hit John Doe’s
and arrested Fortino and his crew.
Despite his record as a poor student, Fortino did the math. As he was in his
late 50s, he knew he might die in prison.
So he gave up Joe Darts.
Fortino was a gold mine of information concerning the local mob, and he
confessed to aiding Argentieri in the murder of two rivals five years prior. He
offered to tell the FBI and the Philly detectives where the bodies — or to be
precise, the body parts — were buried. The Assistant U.S. Attorney was very
happy with Fortino, and she arranged a very good deal for him.
So there we were in the Federal Detention Center. Fortino told me that his wife
and young son were already out of state, safe in the Witness Protection
Program. He said he would join them when he finished his testimony.
Fortino said that he was thankful that before the FBI went out and arrested
Argentieri, the FBI agents escorted Fortino to his home, where he, his wife and
his brother-in-law loaded up a truck with all of their household belongings for
the trip out of state.
“Nobody suspected a thing. We were in and out in two hours,” Fortino said
proudly. “After all, I know how to fuckin’ move furniture.”
© 2009 By Paul Davis
Note:
You can read my other crime fiction stories via the link below:
Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction Stories
