The Bagman

Chapter 3
Withdrawal Slip

Chapter Description: In which Don Zecchino meets an elephant fairy.

he Bagman Chapter Three: Withdrawal Slip

“wake up sir! hEy sIr, wAkE Up! Al wake up! Wake up Al! AAAAAAALLLL!”

Alberto Zecchino’s eyes pried themselves open. So tired. So sleepy. It was dark, and he couldn’t see well. It was also very hard to move. His arms and legs were made of lead. They just didn’t want to lift. But he could see and move his head. Man he was sleepy. The thought just kept ramming into his mind.

“Keep awake, little buddy, keep awake!” the disembodied voice said, and he felt a hand gently slapping his face. Or maybe it was a mermaid tail. Hard to tell, really…but it was magnificent. He liked being touched on his face. Zecchino stirred himself and let his eyes adjust.

The walls had been painted bright, glow-in-the dark green over the wallpaper, and the flowers were dancing. Maybe it was a flower petal that was slapping him. He looked up and saw something, it was like an ant-eater, or an elephant, only it was bright red and it’s trunk was shaped funny. Don Alberto remembered that elephant on Sesame Street that his kids watched when they were young, or an animal.

“Heeeeeeeeeey….” he said drunkenly. “Sembri davvero divertente! Chi sei?

“Shit…” he heard the elephant say, it’s voice sounded hollow or muffled, or huffled….huffled….teehee. “I don’t speak Italian, Alberto old buddy, old pal.”, the strange elephant’s voice echoed out. “Try that again.”

“I shaid…” Alberto slurred, “You look funny, who are you?”

“I am Gotham’s retribution.” The elephant said in a weird accent and dark voice.

“Huh?” was all Alberto managed to get out, missing the joke entirely.

“Never mind,” the red elephant told him. “I’m your buddy the…the-”

“You look like a weird elephant pixie,” Alberto babbled out, his head bobbing on his own pillow.

“Yeah, that’s it. I’m your elephant pixie!” The Elephant Pixie told him in realization. “Elephant Pixie’s are special pixies that never forget…to… help you with your money!” His friend the Elephant Pixie gave him two big flippery thumbs up.

“Oh…” Alberto started to drift, “okay”. Then he went back to sleep. Mermaid tails slapped his face again, waking him up. He was just starting to have the most beautiful dream about a red Elephant Pixie with mermaid tails for hands and dancing flower wall paper….oh…yeah…that was right now. Focus. Focus for the Elephant Pixie.

“Don’t go back to sleep yet,” the Elephant Pixie told him. “I have a couple of questions, Al.” Nobody called Alberto Al, not even his best friends. He didn’t really have friends though. He liked being called Al. He’d change his name to Al tomorrow after he woke up.

“Wush you wanna know?” Al asked his amusing friend.

“What are the pass codes to your marketing account on your laptop?” the Elephant Pixie told him.

“Oh, ish that all?” he smiled. Such a silly question for an Elephant Pixie to ask. “Itsh shix-shix-shix-free-ate-too.

“Is that it?” The pixie asked.

“Yep. Shix-shix-shix-free-ate-too…spells moneta on a phone. Moneta means coin.”

“Got it, buddy! Thanks!” The Elephant Pixie told him. Al felt a sharp prick in his arm and then felt really sleepy.

“Hey Mishter Picshie…wusha name?” Al asked as sleep started to envelop him.

“Johnny Spettro.” Spettro. Something important about that name, something worth remembering. He’d have to think about name in the morning when he woke up.

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Detective Roger Ditko walked into the medical examiner‘s office. He couldn’t believe it. Two big name mobsters dead in less than two weeks. On the examiner’s table covered in a sheet was a naked body. The chart read “Zecchino, Albert”.

“How’d it happen, doc?” Ditko asked the medical examiner.

“There are a lot of variables to consider,” the doctor said, taking off his gloves. “CSI found several empty canisters of nitrous oxide in the ventilation system of the mansion.”

“Laughing gas?” Ditko asked.

“A sleep aid and anesthetic,” the doctor confirmed. “Tox screens came back positive for high doses of heroin, LSD, and ecstasy.”

“So he OD’d?” Ditko questioned.

“He might have,” the doctor said, pulling back the sheet to reveal what was left of Alberto Zecchino’s head. “If he hadn’t been shot in the head.” The doctor shook his head. “Wife woke up next to the body. Screamed her head off.”

“Zecchino’s security see anything?” Ditko pressed. He was putting the pieces together.

“The men were all fast asleep in their beds” the doctor said. “Or their posts.”

“Knocked out by the laughing gas.” Ditko said with certainty. “We have a serial killer on our hands.”

“Or a mob war,” the medical examiner interjected.

“I don’t think so,” Ditko shook his head. “Something doesn’t feel right about it. Anything stolen or missing?”

“Just a laptop, or so I hear,” the examiner told him. “Look, this isn’t part of my job, if you want more details, the boys in the lab should have a file for you to look at.” Ditko nodded and left to find it. He didn’t dare go looking for anything official. He wasn’t technically assigned to this case; technically. But he had an intense interest. Something was going on here. Something bigger than just a petty grab at money or territory. This reeked of vendetta.

Ditko strolled into the crime lab and searched with his eyes. He saw the file marked “Zecchino,” and scooped it up like it belonged to him. He glanced over it. No unfamiliar vehicles seen entering or leaving the Zecchino compound that night. No security footage inside either though, for obvious reasons. Maybe it was an inside job.

But what about the missing laptop? Something didn’t add up to that. One of Zecchino’s men could have stolen it, but the officers on scene were pretty thorough. How did the assassin get on Zecchino’s property without anyone noticing? Then Ditko thought about the Zecchino compound layout.

It had a huge garage that connected with the compound proper. All of Zecchino’s cars, even the ones that his employees drove, were very nice and expensive. Each had a place inside his garage. Maybe….maybe…but how would the assassin get out. Then it hit him!

“Chief! He yelled as he ran down the hallway. “Chief!” He was gasping by the time he found his boss. “Chief, check all-the squad cars, especially their trunks. Ask their drivers if the car was going a little slower after they left the Zecchino crime scene.”

The trunk of squad car 5 was broken. It opened with no resistance. Inside, was a gas mask and a burned out, magnetized laptop. “Get the dogs!” the chief barked. “I want this son of a bitch’s scent!”