Our Lady Of Greenwich Village by Dermot McEvoy Page A

O’Rourke.
    â€œWell,” said Reilly, “Jackie Swift has been in and out of Betty Ford more times than Jerry. He’s disappeared about three times in the last three years. Supposed to be on some fucking fact-finding tour of Southeast Asia. Vito and Madonna-Sue packed him off to Betty Ford to clean up his act. He can’t get straight. Loves the shit too much.”
    From the other end of the bar Nuncio erupted: “Moses, Moses, King of the Jews. Wiped his arse in the Daily News !” Baroody hit the deck as Cyclops’s shot glass shattered against the wall where his face had just been.
    â€œFuck you, and fuck James Joyce,” Reilly yelled in Baroody’s direction. He clearly was in no mood to have his scoop belittled by the likes of Nuncio Baroody.
    â€œHow do you prove the Virgin story is bogus?” asked Luigi as if the histrionics in front of him never happened. “You know there are true believers.”
    â€œI’ll have to pump my source,” said Reilly.
    â€œYou have a source?”
    â€œI have a mole.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œDeep inside the GOP.”
    O’Rourke threw out the first name that popped into his head. “Vito Fopiano?” he surmised.
    â€œClose,” said Reilly, putting his index finger to his lips to keep his secret, “but no cigar.” Both Luigi and O’Rourke looked at him with renewed admiration. Cyclops was on a roll, and he knew it. “Moe, would you do me a favor?” he asked.
    â€œOh, no, you don’t,” said Luigi. “Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.”
    Reilly’s query had roused the politician in O’Rourke. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” O’Rourke asked his buddy.
    â€œFucking A,” replied Cyclops.
    â€œMoe,” O’Rourke said, “do they do toxicity tests when a patient comes in? You know, for drugs and stuff.”
    â€œThat would be part of the blood work-up,” said Luigi.
    â€œWould you take a little peek for me?” asked Reilly, sweetly.
    â€œYou two are something,” said Luigi. He knew they were both rogues, and he couldn’t resist them.
    â€œWell?” said O’Rourke.
    â€œI’ll see,” said Luigi as he took the cigarette out of its holder and snuffed it out in an ashtray, then threw a five-dollar tip on the bar. “I’ll see.” With that Luigi got up and exited the bar.
    â€œWhat do you think?” asked Reilly.
    â€œI’ll guess we’ll see, like Moe said,” returned O’Rourke. Two more drinks were placed in front of them.
    J. Howard Byrne ambled over. “Nice job, Cyclops,” he said gesturing toward his copy of the Daily News . “This Swift guy is something. I was on a TV show with him after some kid shot his calculus teacher in Rathole, Montana, last year, and he said we should get rid of all the gun control laws. He even said, God help me, ‘Guns don’t kill people. People kill people.’”
    Both O’Rourke and Reilly laughed. “Well,” said Reilly, “he’s right. If he dies it will be: ‘Pussy doesn’t kill people. Cocaine doesn’t kill people. But the combination of both will give you a hell of a send-off.’”
    â€œWhat do you think this ‘visitation’ means to Swift’s career?” asked O’Rourke.
    â€œIt’s a fucking mess,” said Reilly. “How’s he going to undo the Virgin Mary? Every religious nut in the country will be coming out of woodwork to embrace him. Just watch.”
    â€œMaybe it will go away,” said O’Rourke.
    â€œMy job is to make sure it doesn’t go away,” said Reilly. “How’s the Family Values congressman going to explain away the girlfriend?” Reilly got a twisted look on his face. “I’m going to stick it to him.”
    â€œWhat will your cousin Johnny Pie think of that?” said