The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
225
The paradox in Sonny’s violent nature was that he could not hit a woman and had never 
done so. That he could not harm a child or anything helpless. When Carlo had refused 
to fight back against him that day, it had kept Sonny from killing him; complete 
submission disarmed his violence. As a boy, he had been truly tenderhearted. That he 
had become a murderer as a man was simply his destiny. 
But he would settle this thing once and for all, Sonny thought, as he headed the Buick 
toward the causeway that would take him over the water from Long Beach to the 
parkways on the other side of Jones Beach. He always used this route when he went to 
New York. There was less traffic. 
He decided he would send Connie home with the bodyguards and then he would have a 
session with his brotherin-law. What would happen after that he didn’t know. If the 
bastard had really hurt Connie, he’d make a cripple out of the bastard. But the wind 
coming over the causeway, the salty freshness of the air, cooled his anger. He put the 
window down all the way. 
He had taken the Jones Beach Causeway, as always, because it was usually deserted 
this time of night, at this time of year, and he could speed recklessly until he hit the 
parkways on the other side. And even there traffic would be light. The release of driving 
very fast would help dissipate what he knew was a dangerous tension. He had already 
left his bodyguards car far behind. 
The causeway was badly lit, there was not a single car. Far ahead he saw the white 
cone of the manned tollbooth. 
There were other tollbooths beside it but they were staffed only during the day, for 
heavier traffic. Sonny started braking the Buick and at the same time searched his 
pockets for change. He had none. He reached for his wallet, flipped it open with one 
hand and fingered out a bill. He came within the arcade of light and he saw to his mild 
surprise a car in the tollbooth slot blocking it, the driver obviously asking some sort of 
directions from the toll taker. Sonny honked his horn and the other car obediently rolled 
through to let his car slide into the slot. 
Sonny handed the toll taker the dollar bill and waited for his change. He was in a hurry 
now to close the window. The Atlantic Ocean air had chilled the whole car. But the toll 
taker was fumbling with his change; the dumb son of a bitch actually dropped it. Head 
and body disappeared as the toll man stooped down in his booth to pick up the money. 
At that moment Sonny noticed that the other car had not kept going but had parked a 

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