It was Pete Clemenza, with his fine nose for good personnel, who brought the Neri

affair to Tom Hagen's attention. Hagen studied the copy of the official police dossier and

listened to Clemenza. He said, "Maybe we have another Luca Brasi here."

Clemenza nodded his head vigorously. Though he was very fat, his face had none of

the usual stout man's benignity. "My thinking exactly. Mike should look into this himself."

And so it was that before Albert Neri was transferred from the temporary jail to what

would have been his permanent residence upstate, he was informed that the judge had

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231

reconsidered his case on the basis of new information and affidavits submitted by high

police officials. His sentence was suspended and he was released.

Albert Neri was no fool and his father-in-law no shrinking violet. Neri learned what had

happened and paid his debt to his father-in-law by agreeing to get a divorce from Rita.

Then he made a trip out to Long Beach to thank his benefactor. Arrangements had

been made beforehand, of course. Michael received him in his library.

Neri stated his thanks in formal tones and was surprised and gratified by the warmth

with which Michael received his thanks.

"Hell, I couldn't let them do that to a fellow Sicilian," Michael said. "They should have

given you a goddamn medal. But those damn politicians don't give a shit about anything

except pressure groups. Listen, I would never have stepped into the picture if I hadn't

checked everything out and saw what a raw deal you got. One of my people talked to

your sister and she told us how you were always worried about her and her kid, how

you straightened the kid out, kept him from going bad. Your father-in-law says you're

the finest fellow in the world. That's rare." Tactfully Michael did not mention anything

about Neri's wife having left him.

They chatted for a while. Neri had always been a taciturn man, but he found himself

opening up to Michael Corleone. Michael was only about five years his senior, but Neri

spoke to him as if he were much older, older enough to be his father.

Finally Michael said, "There's no sense getting you out of jail and then just leaving you

high and dry. I can arrange some work for you. I have interests out in Las Vegas, with

your experience you could be a hotel security man. Or if there's some little business

you'd like to go into, I can put a word in with the banks to advance you a loan for

capital."

Neri was overcome with grateful embarrassment. He proudly refused and then added,

"I have to stay under the jurisdiction of the court anyway with the suspended sentence."

Michael said briskly, "That's all crap detail, I can fix that. Forget about that supervision

and just so the banks won't get choosy I'll have your yellow sheet pulled."

The yellow sheet was a police record of criminal offenses committed by any individual.

It was usually submitted to a judge when he was considering what sentence to give a

convicted criminal. Neri had been long enough on the police force to know that many

hoodlums going up for sentencing had been treated leniently by the judge because a

clean yellow sheet had been submitted by the bribed Police Records Department. So he

was not too surprised that Michael Corleone could do such a thing; he was, however,

surprised that such trouble would be taken on his account.

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"If I need help, I'll get in touch," Neri said.

232

"Good, good," Michael said. He looked at his watch and Neri took this for his dismissal.

He rose to go. Again he was surprised.

"Lunchtime," Michael said. "Come on and eat with me and my family. My father said

he'd like to meet you. We'll walk over to his house. My mother should have some fried

peppers and eggs and sausages. Real Sicilian style."

That afternoon was the most agreeable Albert Neri had spent since he was a small

boy, since the days before his parents had died when he was only fifteen. Don Corleone

was at his most amiable and was delighted when he discovered that Neri's parents had

originally come from a small village only a few minutes from his own. The talk was good,

the food was delicious, the wine robustly red. Neri was struck by the thought that he

was finally with his own true people. He understood that he was only a casual guest but

he knew he could find a permanent place and be happy in such a world.

Michael and the Don walked him out to his car. The Don shook his hand and said.

"You're a fine fellow. My son Michael here, I've been teachinig him the olive business,