COMING
FRIDAY
7 PM PST.
MICHAEL O’KEEFE
AUTHOR OF:
Bushwick Brooklyn in the 1970s is a
cesspool of drugs, violence, and depravity. Every aspect of life in the
blighted neighborhood has been contaminated by the Mafia. Butchie Bucciogrosso
is an Italian cop who detests the Mob. A survivor of the streets, he returns
from Vietnam only to find Bushwick in ruin. His partner, Fast Eddie Curran, had
to kill his way out of Belfast. They are the only cops with the courage to take
on the Mob, becoming a deadly nuisance trying to win back their streets. Only
the Mafia, their own dirty Department, and a corrupt federal justice system
stand in their way. With themselves and their loved ones squarely in the
crosshairs, can they destroy the Mob's criminal empire before they are killed?
Can they outwit a crooked Department of Justice before they are framed and
imprisoned? The clock is ticking with Bushwick's survival in the balance. A
reckoning in Brooklyn is the new historical crime thriller from Detective
Michael O'Keefe, the author of the breakout novel, Shot to Pieces.
A RECONKING IN BROOKLYN :
A RECONKING IN BROOKLYN :
July
12, 1979
Bushwick
Butchie
found the numbness washing over him perplexing. He had relished this moment for
years—expecting to be elated celebrating his triumph over a hated enemy.
Instead, he felt nothing—save the brief instant of exhilaration when the
opportunity lay before him. Now that the deed was done, he was left with was a
tired ambivalence and a wave of nausea. He chalked-up the urge to vomit as an
artifact of the rich coppery taste from all the blood—mixed with the acrid
smoke from the expended gunpowder hanging in the air. A malevolent cloud, it
lingered on Butchie’s tongue, and in the back of his throat, invading his
nostrils and staying there like a vagrant accusation. He chose to ignore the
slight tremors in his hands and aching in his joints. Surely, they
weren’t anything like regret.
There were three dead men on the ground, scattered about the rear courtyard,
which served as an extra dining room for the small, Italian eatery on
Knickerbocker Avenue. Butchie knew all of them. Two were associates of the
hated Carmine Lilo Gigante, the head of the Bonanno Crime Family. The
third man, at Butchie’s feet, was the Don himself. Butchie didn’t know who
killed the associates, and frankly didn’t care. They were criminal scumbags who
deserved every bullet—in this case, shotgun blasts. But he knew who killed
Lilo. He understood he would have to look that murderer in the face when he
shaved every morning. He was surprised when the realization didn’t seem to
bother him, struggling right now to feel something…anything.
As
he stood over Gigante, he could feel the residue of Lilo’s fear-sweat on the
fingertips of his right hand. He wiped them absently on the leg of his uniform
duty trousers, considering what he had just done, killing the last living
witness to a mob rub-out with his bare hands. It certainly didn’t sort well
with the vow he took when he was sworn in as a police officer almost a dozen
years before. To protect life and property, but he had come to realize
some lives deserved more protection than others, and some lives deserved none
at all. Gigante needed killing. So Butchie rationalized his murder as
a community service, or at least a lesser sin. Besides, he reasoned, the mob
boss was already dying when he and Walton came into the courtyard. Lilo
wouldn’t have identified his shooters even if he had survived. So, the final
squeeze was of little consequence to anyone, save Butchie’s conscience, which
was surprisingly untroubled.
Surveying
the shot-up remains of the mobster he had just dispatched, Butchie saw Lilo had
been struck twice by the shotgun, once in the lower abdomen, and a glancing
blow to the right side of his face. But, he mused, glancing is a relative term
with shotguns. Like hand grenades, it’s hard to miss, and they do fearsome
damage just the same when you do. It had torn up the right side of Lilo’s face
and took the eye. Butchie knew both wounds would have ultimately killed the
thug, irrespective of even a herculean effort to save him.
If
by some miracle Lilo made it to the hospital, he would have been brought to the
Old German Hospital on Wyckoff Avenue. It was well-known in Brooklyn there were
only hacks, quacks, and witchdoctors at that particular temple of medical
malpractice.
So,
Gigante was a dead man, with or without Butchie’s help. It was not a matter of
necessity, but principle which prompted his hand. He had predicted, even
promised he would be the one to usher Lilo out of this world. Now he had. He
wasn’t sure what he expected to feel, but it hadn’t been nothing. He had
just rid the world of the vilest man he had ever encountered, in a short life
chock-full of wicked men. He thought he might derive some satisfaction from the
act—even an epiphany of sorts. Instead, there was only the maddening numbness.
The
closest he came to an emotion was enjoying the fear in Lilo’s eyes at the
moment the Don recognized him. The last spasms and final futile kicks, as the
helpless mobster died with Butchie’s hand clamped like a vise around his throat
should have elicited some sort of satisfaction. But all he felt after was a
nagging sense of hopelessness, and the urge to puke. He had slain a monster,
but Butchie suspected there would be more monsters to fill the void left by
Lilo’s murder, and they might be far worse.
Strangely,
Gigante’s broken eyeglasses remained propped—however askew—on his mangled head.
Butchie thought the only thing missing from the picture was the little Cuban
cigar Lilo always had sticking out of his sneering maw. He had looked for it,
but it was nowhere to be found. He spotted it’s substitute earlier when his
partner for the day, Ernie Walton, returned to the courtyard from the street
with an anisette cheroot sticking out of his fat face.
A collection of short fiction from
crime-noir maven, Michael O'Keefe, author of the Detective Paddy Durr novels.
Gangsters, dead poets, zombies, serial killers, and other malcontents come
together in an eclectic assortment of contemporary fables and morality tales
that span the genres. Full of ironic twists and outlandish premises,13 Stories
is guaranteed to leave the reader breathless in anticipation for what happens
next.
Tic, Tic, Boom!
Tic
realized on the way to the Tack Room that he probably wasn’t going to pry his
ten grand from Bernie The Bug Kowakalski. Still, he needed that
money. He had been counting on it to take care of his rent for a while
and pay for his last semester at Saint Francis College. He was that close to
earning his degree, making him able to realistically seek employment that
didn’t involve hurting people, or destroying their property. He had grown
weary of being the heavy and was sick of being avoided out of fear. He
didn’t hit everyone, just welchers and deadbeats.
Everyone knew he was the collection guy for
Tomasso The Hatchet Mattone, the local Cosa Nostra Capo. If you
were reckless enough to get yourself into debt to a man with a name like The Hatchet,
it should stand to reason that you ought to pay it back on time, if you have
any regard at all for your safety and wellbeing. Failing to pay got you a visit from Tic. A visit from Tic was a dreaded thing, to be
avoided if at all possible.
Tic was not his given name. He was baptized Francis Xavier Culleen.
Orphaned at thirteen, he had spent the last few years bouncing from friends’
homes, until he hooked up with The Hatchet. Now he was more or less
getting by, but there was no cushion. That’s why he laid that enormous
bet on the Bears for the Super Bowl. He knew it was a sure thing.
The Patriots sucked.
He was less sure The Bug would be expeditious in
paying out. Tic always had a bad feeling about that guy. He was one
of those miserable people you meet who have a bad word for everyone. One
look into his scheming little eyes and you were convinced he was angling to
screw somebody out of something. That’s why Tic called the bar to feel him
out.
“Go fuck yourself! You never laid that bet with
me,” The Bug said.
Tic wasn’t totally surprised, but he was
infuriated. This was not a good thing for anyone.
Tic came by his nickname when a sixth-grade gym teacher who had to keep sending
him to the Principal’s office for fighting, told the Principal, Sister Kathryn,
that “Francis Xavier Culleen was a ticking time bomb with a short fuse.”
Unfortunately, this conversation was overheard by a student who was perpetually
in trouble himself. Eddy Ruane was all ears sitting outside Sister Kathryn’s
office. He shared this conversation with anyone who would listen.
It wasn’t long before young Francis X was known as Tic, Tic, Boom by
everyone. Soon enough, it got shortened to just Tic.
So, he already had anger issues when Tic found himself orphaned in the eighth
grade. A suspicious gas explosion cast him parentless into the
street. The neighborhood closed ranks around him and took turns
sheltering him and seeing to his welfare. Even still, rootless as he was,
it was a little like being raised by wolves.
It
wasn’t long before Tic thought of himself as a hammer, and to a hammer, every
problem looks like a nail. The results were predictable. When he
grew up big, mean, and hard, he came to the attention of The Hatchet, who
needed someone with Tic’s skillset, and the moral flexibility to use it.
Michael O’Keefe
is a retired 1st Grade Detective from the NYPD. For
twenty-four years, He worked in the toughest neighborhoods in New York,
specializing in homicides and other violent crime. He was born and raised
on the streets he likes to write about, where he encountered the colorful
characters who appear in his fiction—on both sides of the law.
He has written
two novels and is at work on a third for which he is seeking publication.
His debut novel, Shot to Pieces, premiered in early July of
2016. The novel has garnered over one hundred seventy 5-star reviews on
Amazon. It is presently being considered for film or TV adaptation.
In addition, Shot to Pieces has been adopted into the curriculum at
John Jay College of Criminal Justice and Saint John’s Universities criminology
programs.
13
Stories-Fractured, Twisted & Put Away Wet is a collection of
prize-winning short fiction. Released in 2019, the book has become a
favorite for discussion by library book clubs.
A Reckoning in
Brooklyn, released this November, is the prequel to Shot to Pieces. A
historical crime thriller based upon real events, the novel paints a vivid
picture of Brooklyn when the Mafia, dirty cops, and political corruption held
the decency and the rule of law hostage. A Reckoning in Brooklyn is the
story of two cops with the courage and integrity to fight for justice.
Dabbling in
poetry, Michael has had several poems published in the on-line and print
magazines The Raven’s Perch, and The Bard’s Initiative. In
addition, his first book of collected poems is due for publication shortly
by Long Island Gems Press. He likes retirement, but he loved
homicide investigation and would still be doing it if he hadn’t been injured in
the line of duty and disabled. He now lives on Long Island with his
family, where he writes a little, coaches football, and practices the ancient
martial art of swimming pool maintenance.
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