The Favor That Couldn’t Be Refused

When Uncle Tony calls after fifteen years, the favor he asks could ruin your life — or save it with a twist you’ll never see coming.

The caller ID on my iPhone made me a candidate for a cardiac arrest. I’ve dreaded this phone call for 15 years . The caller ID said it all, Tony Abruzzi. Wherever I went in this city when someone heard my name, Mark Abruzzi, they tossed me the same question, “You related to Tony Aburzzi?”

Tony Abruzzi rumored to be the mob boss. Tony Abruzzi arrested nine times. Nine times a witness in one of his court cases disappeared. Tony Abruzzi who had more legislators and cops on his payroll than cable network channels.

I hadn’t heard from uncle Tony since he pulled strings to get me into Harvard Law. He paid my tuition and Harvard tuition doesn’t come cheap.

When I asked him how he did it, he said, “I can reason with people.”

I said, “How can I repay you?”

“Maybe some day I’ll want a favor,” Uncle Tony said giving me a slap on the back.

I knew I’d regret what he did for me. Today was the day for the favor.

I answered, “Uncle Tony, how are you?”

“Nick, I’m in the coffee shop across from the courthouse. C’mon over and join me.”

“My case starts in five minutes. Can we speak on the phone?”

“You want me to sing you happy birthday? I do that on the phone. I don’t do nothing else.”

“But, the judge . . .” I muttered.

“Make up an excuse. Besides, avfew years in Cedar Junction will be good for your client,” Uncle Tony said.

“I don’t know if I can get a postponement.”

“I get you into Harvard Law and pay your tuition. This is how you thank me?” Uncle Tony’s voice had the edge of an angry snapping turtle.

I had no choice. I said, “I’ll talk to the judge.”

“You do that,” Uncle Tony snapped.

Twenty minutes later I was sitting at a corner table inside CoffeeTime across from Uncle Tony. Uncle Tony, his back to the wall, his eyes scanning the sidewalk and scanning anyone who came into CoffeeTime for a tell..

“The judge was reasonable. She gave you a break,” Uncle Tony laughed.

“I told her I tested positive for COVID right before court started. I was wearing a mask, She had no choice but to believe me,” I said.

“I like your style, Mark. That’s why I chose you for a little favor I need done no later than Saturday,” Uncle Tony softly said.

What is it?” I asked picturing Uncle Tony telling me to whack a competitor.

“I want you to take care of Tom Janovick. I owe him one. I don’t want anybody know I asked you to do this. Capito?”

I nodded then asked, “You know he’s the assistant D.A.?”

“You think I’m stupid,” Uncle Tony waved his hand dismissing my question.

“What do you want me to do?” I stammered.

He stared at me, “You went to Harvard. You figure it out.” He picked up his coffee cup and walked out of CoffeeTime.

Saturday was two days away. What was I supposed to do? Kill Janovick? Kidnap his wife or son and hold them for ransom? Did he want me to put a bomb in his car? As a kid I heard family rumors about people who crossed Uncle Tony. It never ended well. I hurried to the restroom and left my breakfast there.. Soon as I got home I went straight to ChatGPT to find out everything about Tom Janovick. I couldn’t find a connection between Uncle Tony and Janovick. My wife was about to lose a husband, my son a father if I didn’t deliver. My stomach was tied tighter than a boa constrictor’s coils around its prey.

I got my breakthrough the next day at lunch. I tailed Janovick to a deli. Janovick shook hands with a short muscular guy who looked familiar to me. My mind raced to place him. They sat at a table near the bar. I took a stool close by and ordered a beer. Five minutes later I knew who was meeting with Janovick. I knew what I had to do. It was a long shot. If I was wrong, I’d be dumped in the harbor. I needed to call in two favors, one legitimate, one that could get me disbarred.

I got my favors and the package I needed late Friday afternoon. I was cutting it close. I went to Janovick’s house at 2 a.m. The house was pitch dark. His ten year old Toyota sat in the driveway. Perfect. I slipped a ski mask over my head and went to his car, jimmied the car door open and set the package on the driver’s seat.

I’m doing yard work Saturday afternoon when my phone rang.

“Everything worked out, Nick,” Uncle Tony said.

“It did?” I answered.

“I didn’t give you a clue. How’d you figure it out?”

“Janovick met Javier Lopez at the deli. I figured it out.”

“Give you credit. Lopez bats cleanup for the Sox. I got lots of pull, but I couldn’t get first base side box seat tickets for the Yankees and Sox game. You got them right next to the dugout. And, they were playing on Janovick’s birthday that was an extra plus. Janovick and me go way back. He helped Tony Jr. get out of a teenage jam. Janovick called me from Fenway and thanked me for the tickets. Even better, he owes me.

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