A rainy night plagued the city as a lone car drove through the water-logged streets. The driver, a misshapen and stout figure's fat fingers lightly danced upon the steering wheel. A snarl from the backseat sounded out. "You keep doing that, the only tapping that will occur is the sound of the fuzz's chisels on the slab of concrete concealing your body."
The man's fingers silenced.
The car pulled into an alley behind a cinema. Out stepped the driver, three henchmen and their leader. They walked into the backroom where the sounds of the latest war film could be heard. Two men with greased back hair were playing poker. One of them looked up.
"Mr. Caprice! We's weren't expecting you until later."
"Well, I'm here now, so in your opinion, now is later."
"Yes, sir!" he stumbled out of his chair and knocked on the door beside the table.
"It's open." a husky voice hollered.
The fat driver opened the door for Big Boy Caprice and stood off to the side.
The man in the room looked up from his desk and his face froze in fear.
"Good evening, Morty." Caprice greeted, removing his hat and sinking down into one of the chairs before the desk.
"Mr. Caprice." he nervously acknowledged.
"How's the family. Is Annette any better?"
"She-she's been dead for 4 years"
"Oh, that's right. I apologize. My memory is a bit off." Caprice clasped his hands together. "See, in age, one's memory begins to slip. But in circumstances, some things stay fresh, as if it just happened. And I recollect, Morty, that you borrowed a lump sum of money from me some time ago to take care of some personal debts."
At that moment, a young woman, roughly 20, entered the room. She was taken aback at the sight of the mobsters.
"Well, this must be Nancy." Caprice, said, standing up to approach the girl. He stroked the girl's long blonde hair with the back of his hand.
"Look, Mr. Caprice, I've been trying to come up with the money." Morty claimed, as Nancy walked back out of the room. "But business is slow and it's a very bad time for people to fork over money to see a film."
"Morty, you know what the mob is?" Caprice asked, standing at the left corner of the desk. "The mob is like a cloth. A piece of square or rectangular fabric that is perfect. But over time, all cloths begin sprouting loose threads, those pieces of string sticking off the sides of an otherwise perfect cloth. You, I'm afraid, have grown to become a loose thread. And in my mob, on my piece of cloth, all loose threads must be cut."
Caprice nodded to one of the henchman, who pulled out a tommy gun and fired into Morty's chest. A total of 41 bullets were shot into him. Morty was dead instantly.
Nancy came sprinting back into the room and looked at her father's bullet-ridden corpse. She then looked at Caprice.
Another henchman pulled out a roll of tape and taped her mouth shut and her hands together.
The group exited the room and walked past the two men playing poker, both frozen in fear.
The henchman reloaded the tommy and killed them as well. They walked back into the alley, where Nancy was loaded into the middle seat and two of the henchman filled the seats around her.
Caprice looked to the henchman who killed Morty. "Gus, you drive."
Gus nodded and went to the driver's seat. Chubby Charles, the fat driver, looked into the car as Caprice sat down in the front passenger seat.
"Boss, where am I gonna sit?" Chubby asked.
"Oh, Chubby, I forgot about you. Let me figure something out."
Caprice pulled out a revolver and shot Chubby 3 times. Chubby crumpled to the ground, dead.
"Drive." And Gus pulled the car out into the city traffic, leaving Chubby Charles Benning's body in the alley, blood from the bullet wounds spilling into the gutters.