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“A career mob boss named Joseph Turant.” Win pulled out a sheet of paper. “Everyone calls him Joey the Toe.”
Myron frowned. “Joey the Toe?”
“It’s a poorly conceived moniker,” Win agreed.
“I mean Joey the Toe? If you call a guy ‘The Toe,’ why not go for the rhyme?”
“Exactly. Joe the Toe.”
“Has a much better ring, I think,” Myron said. “Joe the Toe versus Joey the Toe. And what kind of nickname is ‘The Toe’ anyway? How does someone come up with that?”
Win said, “Joey likes to cut off toes.”
“Oh. Then the name kind of makes sense.”
“It does,” Win said.
“Maybe a tad too literal.”
“Agree. And it’s only the baby toe. Joey keeps them as souvenirs. They found sixteen in his freezer when they served the warrant.”
“Sixteen baby toes?”
“Yes.”
“That must be a real icebreaker at a party,” Myron said.
“Three of the toes were female, thirteen male.”
“Was one of them Jordan Kravat’s?”
“Yes.”
“This case.” Myron just shook his head. “What else do we have on our podophilic friend Joey the Toe?”
“Podophilic,” Win repeated. “Good word.”
“You’re not the only one who can give vocabulary seminars.”
Win sighed. “Let’s press on, shall we? Joey the Toe ran the Turant crime family. According to this, he has a fairly extensive record—the usual potpourri of extortion, corruption, murder, assault, loan sharking, racketeering.”
“‘Racketeering’ is a nice all-encompassing term,” Myron said.
“Isn’t it? Anyway, Joey the Toe was arrested and convicted for the murder of Jordan Kravat. He’s serving a life sentence in Ely State Prison in Nevada.”
“Interesting,” Myron said.
“I don’t really see what we hope to learn from the victim’s mother.”
“You know how this works, Win. We knock on doors and stir the pot and muck things up and hope something rises to the surface.”
“Our usual carefully crafted plan, then.”
“Correct.”
“Feels like a waste of time.”
“I could have come alone.”
