Page 41 of Time Served in New York
“There’s always Preacher’s family,” Frankie suggested with a shrug. “Then you’d be surrounded by crooks, huh?”
“Since we’re going to be part of the whole organized crime scene, you’ve got to tell me some of the secrets, right?”
“Like what?”
“Where is Jimmy Hoffa really buried?”
“Honey, you know Hoffa was from Detroit and not New York, right?”
“But it’s really all connected, isn’t it?” Jude leaned in to hear Frankie’s answer, but I could tell from the look in her eye that she was about to say something that was going to throw him into a tailspin just because she could.
“Okay, I’ll tell you this one little secret,” Frankie said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Hoffa was put into witness protection by the FBI, and they moved him to New York so the families could keep an eye on him. Since he wasn’t allowed to work with the teamsters anymore or tell his stories to the public, he chose a different path.”
I glanced at Jude and saw that his eyes were wide, and he was hanging on Frankie’s every word. I took a deep breath and waited for it, and she didn’t disappoint.
“What they didn’t know was that he was a really good artist, and he hooked up with this old friend of his who was a really good businessman. They made a plan, and even though it took them a while to execute it, all that information he wanted to give out was slowly fed to the media.”
“What?” Jude whispered.
“Yep,” Frankie said with a grin. “His friend started making television shows and put easter eggs in almost all of them, giving people hints about mafia secrets.”
“Secrets?”
“Yeah, Preacher.Allthe secrets.”
“Like what?”
“They unmasked at least one bad guy in each episode of the series.”
“Really? What show?”
“And then they’d get in their van and go off to the next adventure only to find another bad guy who was hiding.”
“What show? How have I never heard this?”
“They showed hundreds of them,” Frankie insisted. “Hundreds!”
“What?”
“I’m serious, Preacher.”
I let my chin rest on my chest as I tried my hardest not to crack a smile.
“And there is one definite way to know exactly when they’re about to give away a secret.”
“How?”
“I can’t tell you,” Frankie said as she sat up straight again and shook her head. “I just can’t.”
“Are you fucking serious right now?” Jude snapped. “You can’t lead me on like that and then shut down. People have a right to know this shit, Frankie.”
“I just don’t think I can do it,” Frankie insisted sadly.
“I’ll pay you,” Jude offered.
“No, money means nothing to me when it’s something this important.”
“Would you do it for a Scooby Snack?” Captain asked Frankie with a deadpan expression.
