“Identification hadn’t been easy. Forget dental records. Fingerprints had gone too: eaten by the fishes, maybe. But one helpful mark survived. On the left buttock was a faint tattoo of a snarling dragon. As a kid, Frankie Blanco had run with a Chicago street gang, the Flames, and that was their badge. The gang had been small and unlucky, and soon Blanco graduated to more ambitious, better organized crime, a wise move because the other Flames all died young. Chicago PD fished the body out of the ...lake and showed pictures of the faint tattoo to Blanco’s known associates, including ex-girlfriends, a masseur, and a steam-bath attendant. All agreed; this was Frankie, last of the Flames. That was good enough for the coroner and he released the body. It was interred in St. Luke’s graveyard (then the last restingplace of choice for the Mob in Chicago’s South Side), the headstone bearing the simple epitaph: Not Forgotten. This begged the question, remembered for what? Frankie Blanco was a fat and happy whacker.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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