AS THE CROW FALLS


August 16, 1972

11:52 a.m.


Gregory Crow had a real bad hangover. He tried desperately to think of the name of the girl sleeping next to him and where the hell he was. Today should have been different for Greg. Today was the morning after Greg's thirtieth birthday party. He realized what happened last night as he slowly came to. Matchbooks, cocktail napkins and balloons commemorated the occasion. Eighty or so friends, strippers, music, drugs and booze. Oh so much booze. Greg loved booze, all kinds of drugs, and women. And women most definitely loved Greg.

Who the hell is this one? Carol? Cindy? Cara? It's Carol. Vince Giovelli's cousin.

Greg stood up and fell flat on his face.

I am really, really drunk.

"What're you doing?" she asked.

"I didn't know where we were."

"What time is it?"

"I don't know. Well, wait a minute. My watch should be in here." With all his drunken, drug-induced episodes, he always managed to keep his wristwatch in his suit lapel pocket. "Ten minutes after twelve," he mumbled.

"It's after checkout time," she responded with another smile and a wink.

"Well, you know I don't have to be anywhere today. My brother was there last night. Saw how drunk I must have been. He probably knew what to expect," he muttered. "What happened last night?"

"After everyone started leaving, you were stumbling around, giggling at everything, it was hilarious. Vince helped you up here and here we are."

"Vince helped me up here. That I do not remember at all," he said, trying to enunciate each word and failing miserably.

"Don't worry, he's cool about it," she said, as if she could read his mind.

"And your dad, oh shit!" Suddenly he remembered her last name.
"I'm a big girl. And besides, he likes you, your brother, your dad, all of you guys."

"Oh, I just mean I haven't been that wasted in a long time." He was inebriated nearly every night. Her father scared him a little bit also. His nickname was "Willie the Rat."


William "Willie the Rat" Cassivano rarely showers. He always looks terrible.

The hit will go down in the Chicago area. An attractive female law student and former exotic dancer Joseph Giovelli chose from Kansas City is to seduce the man at a Palantine nightclub, Chances, that he patronizes.

For the last three evenings, she flirted with him at the nightclub. Cognizant that time is running out, she slips a mild sedative in his drink. She teases him to the point that he wants to leave early and take her home. As she drives into the parking lot of a convenience store, she notices the parking lot is full by her design.

"Sweetie, come inside with me," she suggests with a kiss. He obeys and stumbles out of the car.

Quickly someone covers his eyes and mouth while two other men grab him and throw him in the back seat of the Cadillac. Leonardo "Leo Lips" Moraci from Cleveland is waiting on the back seat. They drive to a warehouse.

Prior to bringing Dean/Scott here, Willie had the men build a sturdy plywood box of four walls at least four feet high and wide enough to fit around Dean/Scott.

The caged man is sitting with all limbs and his head immobilized on the chair that is anchored to sheet metal that is fastened to the floor. Willie throws in two rats.

"I think you can see how pissed off I am. Tell me now what you've told the other feds," Willie grins.
"Nothing! I swear I haven't even..."
"Not the answer I was looking for." Willie tosses in two more rats. The two he threw this time land on the metal floor and attempt to ascend the greasy wall.

"Fuck you, you fat slob," the prisoner yells.

Willie hits his prisoner on the top of the head with his knife handle. Two more rats.

"I'll keep this up until I believe you. To show you that you can believe me, here are four more friends," Willie assures, grinning.

"Tell me now, Dean, what have you told the other feds?" Willie waves the stiletto knife in front of the prisoner's eyes.
"I only told them about the casino money Joe is using. Please, I'm beggin' you."

"Good start, but I think it's only a fuckin' start!" Willie screams.

Willie opens the sharp stiletto knife and brings it down to the prisoner's right leg. He slowly makes a twelve-inch anterior cut on the top of his thigh toward his knee.

"Can you be anymore of a pain in the ass or are you gonna tell me? We have all night and a whole lot more of your little fuzzy friends." To show he is serious, Willie opens ten more boxes containing two rats each and throws them in the makeshift cell.

"I told them about the casinos and the Teamsters and other union funds Joe is using. I swear that's all I even know."

Willie brings the knife down to the other leg and makes an almost identical incision. Willie has one more rat and he hates not to use this one. This is an approximately seven pound rat nearly the size of a cat. Willie needs to make sure he scares any last little bit of information from this man as possible since he is, after all, an FBI agent.

"Please no, God please no. Joseph's phones might be bugged, I don't know for sure." This is far too much. He is completely honest now.

Willie opens the cage and carefully drops the beast on the prisoner's bloody legs. He watches with an awe-inspired gaze as some of the rodents try to climb out of the slippery chamber as soon as they become aware of the emperor.

Willie smiles as he points an automatic pistol with a silencer down at Dean and shoots him between the eyes. The rats scurry.

Dean Krabek is still officially a missing person.








1