Tommy — as a dealer in rare powders — needed creativity to a degree not known to conventional merchants. As a f’rinstance, inventory just was not going to go on display in a glass case under the counter. Any number of people with guns — many with badges, but many, too, without — stood ready to remove all material close at hand.
Tommy’s North Bergen cliffside location provided the solution; the wooded hills equalled infinity in terms of hiding places. This though was not perfect. As might be expected — particularly when working in the dark with judgement often compromised from being one’s own best customer — the next day, each tree winds up looking like every other. At least once, Tommy needed to spend an entire day — and well into the night with a flash light — scouring the hills like someone looking for a leprechaun’s treasure. On another occasion, the packaging was faulty, so rain turned the powder to mush. Tommy’s plan was to dry the stuff out, but I don’t know if that was successful.