• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 01
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Vincenzo’s Talent

James Hewitt was called Turtle because he looked like he had no neck. But he did have a round, bald head that was perfect for a bowler hat. He carried a cane and wore calf-skin driving gloves. Two hundred dollars a pair in his clothing store. As owner, he got them wholesale. Fifteen dollars. M-F he closed Hewitt’s Haberdashery at five PM, and drove his Aston Martin convertible home to the Belvedere Hotel. Tenth floor.

So why did he come back Friday at five-fifteen? If he’d gone home, he wouldn’t have caught cock-eyed Vincenzo or have him arrested when it was obvious he needed mental healthcare.
“I couldn’t resist,’ Vincenzo told the cops. “Such a lovely selection. High class. Refined. Your gloves reflect your loves. Never forget that."

“You weren’t being refined when Hewitt caught you self abusing wearing a pair of five hundred dollars leather. Some cow lost her calf to make those gloves. Never forget that.”

For a criminal, Vincenzo had good posture, Sgt. Blaine thought as he observed the Millennial from behind a two-way mirror. He had delicate hands too. Wore a man-bun. Had a butterfly tattoo on his left shoulder blade. Blaine couldn’t picture him working a 9-5 job or wearing an Army uniform. Before booking him, Blaine would ask the Turtle if he was sure he wanted to press charges.

“Look at him. Poor guy needs a job. He needs something to make him grow up, to live for. Maybe he could get a girl friend. Or a boyfriend. Could you hire him as a part-time clerk?”


Vincenzo’s Talent

Hewitt was surprised that the police had two-way mirrors like he’d seen on TV. Maybe Vincenzo wasn’t such a bad character. He and Blaine found the skinny kid endearing in a weird way, especially when he acted out the story of Faust with shadow puppets with his feminine hands. America does have talent.