The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
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became sentimental, wringing Michael’s hand and calling him Godfather at every 
excuse– old country style. Michael himself had never been so affable, so outgoing. 
Connie whispered to Kay, “I think Carlo and Mike are going to be real friends now. 
Something like this always brings people together.” 
Kay squeezed her sister-in-law’s arm. “I’m so glad,” she said. 
Chapter 30
Albert Neri sat in his Bronx apartment and carefully brushed the blue serge of his old 
policeman’s uniform. He unpinned the badge and set it on the table to be polished. The 
regulation holster and gun were draped over a chair. This old routine of detail made him 
happy in some strange way, one of the few times he had felt happy since his wife had 
left him, nearly two years ago. 
He had married Rita when she was a high school kid and he was a rookie policeman. 
She was shy, dark-haired, from a straitlaced Italian family who never let her stay out 
later than ten o’clock at night. Neri was completely in love with her, her innocence, her 
virtue, as well as her dark prettiness. 
At first Rita Neri was fascinated by her husband. He was immensely strong and she 
could see people were afraid of him because of that strength and his unbending attitude 
toward what was right and wrong. He was rarely tactful. If he disagreed with a group’s 
attitude or an individual’s opinion, he kept his mouth shut or brutally spoke his 
contradiction. He never gave a polite agreement. He also had a true Sicilian temper and 
his rages could be awesome. But he was never angry with his wife. 
Neri in the space of five years became one of the most feared policemen on the New 
York City force. Also one of the most honest. But he had his own ways of enforcing the 
law. He hated punks and when he saw a bunch of young rowdies making a disturbance 
on a street corner at night, disturbing passersby, he took quick and decisive action. He 
employed a physical strength that was truly extraordinary, which he himself did not fully 
appreciate. 
One night in Central Park West he jumped out of the patrol car and lined up six punks in 
black silk jackets. His partner remained in the driver’s seat, not wanting to get involved, 
knowing Neri. The six boys, all in their late teens, had been stopping people and asking 
them for cigarettes in a youthfully menacing way but not doing anyone any real physical 
harm. They had also teased girls going by with a sexual gesture more French than 
American. 

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