“I’ve done bad things, but I’m not ashamed. I’m like Carlo.”– The Blue Suit talking to Josh Resnek
By JOSH RESNEK
The Blue Suit got all uptight when we passed the police station on our way to Woodlawn Cemetery for a look at the several thousand American flags placed there for Memorial Day.
We were driving around the city in my little red car Tuesday afternoon. Just the Blue Suit and I, with the windows down, the FM radio playing progressive music, psychedelic stuff from the late 1960s and early 1970s.
‘What’s wrong?” I asked the Blue Suit.
“I’ve had run-ins with the police. Police stations make me very uptight,” he said to me.
“Are you talking about yourself or about Carlo?” I asked the Blue Suit.
“I’m talking about myself. I know Carlo feels the same way. We’ve both had our problems with the police.”
“Go on. What exactly are you talking about?” I asked.
The Blue Suit went quiet. He drew in a deep breath. He let it out slowly.
“I’ve been bad, Josh. I’ve done things no man is supposed to do. I’ve cheated people out of what is rightly theirs. I’ve stolen money. I’ve done things with the ladies that are way out of bounds. I’ve had to go to court…and I’ve been lucky so far that I haven’t gone to jail,” the Blue Suit blurted out.
“Does Carlo know what you’ve done?” I asked him.
“Are you serious? Of course, he knows. He wrote the book on these kinds of things. I’ve been with him when he had his own problems. It was scary, believe me. The terror never goes away remembering those times.”
We were driving down Broadway, past McKinnon’s, DeBlasi’s, the old high school, city hall, through Everett Square, and stopping in front of the Everett Bank.
Driving around the city in my beaten-up red car gives us the anonymity we like. No one looks at my car. No one cares about my car and who’s driving it or who’s sitting next to me.
Which reminds me of a Vietnam war story that has been shared many times about how the CIA drove around Saigon at the height of the war in a fleet of gray Ford Pintos thinking the Viet Cong didn’t know that only CIA agents drove those cars!
“I’ll be just a minute,” I told the Blue Suit. “Don’t worry, no one will notice you in my car.”
I hopped out of the car, crossed the street, and entered the small entrance to the Everett Bank.
I checked my balance in the bank machine. Then I took out a c-note. It is always nice to be carrying a c-note or two or three hundred!
Back in the car and heading for Santilli Circle, we started talking again.
“Tell me about your bad times,” I demanded. “Come on. Out with it.”
“More than several times during the past decade I have come in contact with dresses that I just wanted to…” and the Blue Suit stopped.
He went silent.
“Go on,” I tried to persuade him.
“I shouldn’t be telling you this stuff. These are my secrets, the way Carlo has his secrets. I shouldn’t be detailing any of the bad things I’ve done and the price I’ve had to pay to dresses I’ve known to keep them quiet. In some cases, the dresses went to the police and filed reports and the police came after me. What hassles I’ve been in!” the Blue Suit recalled.
“Can you believe, I’ve had to pay some of the dresses to keep their mouths shut. Believe me, when I tell you, you’re in big trouble when you have to pay a woman to be quiet. And these days, it is worse than ever because my reputation follows me…the same way Carlo’s reputation follows him,” he added.
I asked the Blue Suit to fill me in about some of the bad things Carlo has done.
“I’m not going there,” he said emphatically. “I don’t need Carlo cutting me up and tossing me out in the trash. He’s got that new gray suit, so he’s treating me like crap. But I’m not going to be a rat the way he is. You could never get me to sign a deal with the FBI,” the Blue Suit added.
“Everyone knows Carlo signed a proffer with the FBI, that the FBI was all over him wiretapping his phones and his friend’s phones and developer’s phones. This is not new in- formation. His fancy lawyer that charges $1,000 an hour told the city council that Carlo hooking up with the FBI was a sure sign of his innocence.”
The Blue Suit laughed hysterically. He punched his knee. He coughed. He could barely catch his breath.
We stopped at Mike’s Roast Beef.
“Look at that casino. That’s something, isn’t it?” the Blue Suit said to me in the parking lot of Mike’s.
“What do you think Carlo made out of that?” he asked me. “I don’t know,” I answered.
“Tons of dough. Tons of chips. Tons of promises. That casino bailed him out of a big financial hole,” the Blue Suit recalled. “Carlo loves to gamble. He loves to take vacations and to stay at the Ritz. He lives a $500,000 a year existence on a $180,000 mayor’s salary. You tell me, Josh. How is that possible?”
The Blue Suit added: Can you imagine what would happen if the FBI and the IRS teamed up for a close scrutiny of Carlo’s finances? I understand he doesn’t have a checking account or a saving account. The cash has to be hidden somewhere, don’t you think, Josh?” the Blue Suit asked me.
I didn’t know what to say. I listened intently. I took mental notes.
“What’s the biggest problem Carlo has had during your time with him?” I asked.
“Carlo can’t control himself. He has no boundaries. Sure, he’s looking like a mayoral candidate right now, but that look is a big lie. Just ask those women who were mistreated by him, who reported him to the police, who sued him in court, about what he’s really like. You’d be amazed.”
I asked the Blue Suit if he could give me dates, names, and amounts.
“Look, Josh. Let me repeat myself in clear, plain English. I’m not a rat-like Carlo. You want to find out what went down with him it’s up to you to do the research. I have a great deal of faith in you Josh. I know you’ll come up with everything you need if you search hard enough.”
“Will women voters in Everett care much about Carlo’s past if I reveal the truth about the secrets he holds?” I asked the Blue Suit.
“Even in Everett, Josh, women don’t like being abused by Carlo or any mayor, governor, senator, or president. That stuff sticks with Carlo. It could bring him down…but then…I don’t think he cares about the past. It doesn’t exist for him. I’m the same way.”
“You guys are two peas in a pod,” I said to the Blue Suit.
“Yes, indeed,” the Blue Suit said.