Small Crimes Read online

  You could probably point to any person alive, take enough stuff out of context, twist it around, and use it to prove they had any personality disorder you wanted to. I guess with my dad he couldn’t accept the fact that there was no real reason why I did the things I did. He needed an explanation, he needed some underlying disease or mental defect to point to, so he found one. It didn’t matter whether it made any sense or not. The alcohol and cocaine use was an easy match. And he probably worked out in his mind that my motivation for being a cop had something to do with power. He was right about my not having any close friendships, but there were reasons for that. Back when I was in eighth grade I started spending a lot of time with Elaine. Probably the only time I wasn’t with her was when I was in class or playing sports. That went on all through high school. I didn’t have any time left over to develop close friendships. And I guess it wasn’t important enough to me to care about it.

  As far as wanting to be a cop, well, there were a lot of reasons for that also, and none of them had to do with me seeking out some form of power over those around me. Yeah, the idea of it attracted me as a kid, especially the way the cops were shown on TV, but there were other reasons. I didn’t want to leave Bradley after high school. I was comfortable there, and besides, Elaine couldn’t leave since she had to take care of her sick mother. I didn’t have a lot of choices. I wasn’t going to be cooped up in an office making minimum wage, and I didn’t want to work in a garage or do construction. Yeah, I could’ve worked an assembly line, either building military aircraft in Bradley or computer equipment in Chesterville, but I didn’t think I could deal with the drudgery of that. And maybe I wanted something with some respectability, but that didn’t make me a narcissistic personality.

  The thing is, none of the major characteristics matched. I certainly didn’t have any great love for myself, I couldn’t care less whether anyone admired me, and as far as a sense of entitlement, well, I’d have to think the opposite was true. I started taking the payoffs because I didn’t want to make waves. I never wanted the money, I didn’t feel entitled to it, but it was easier to just take the payoffs and keep my mouth shut. The money, though, made me feel rotten, and at some subconscious level I must have wanted to get rid of it as quickly as I got it. That had to be why I started with the gambling and cocaine. It had nothing to do with a narcissistic personality. But there was more to it. Loving myself? Shit, no, I had to have been trying pretty damn hard to hurt myself, and the reason had to have been because in fact I hated myself. Hated myself for just going along and taking money I didn’t want. For doing things I didn’t want to do. For once again just taking the easy way out.

  As for lack of empathy, I had to believe I felt bad about what I did to Phil. At least I think I did. It’s hard to say exactly. I know I felt uneasy about it, but it could be because he was walking around so that everyone in Bradley could look at him and remind themselves about what I did. If he had died that night and I had gotten away with his murder, maybe I’d feel differently now. It’s hard to say. Of course, what I did to him was in some ways worse than murder. Making him into a freak, driving his wife away, and leaving him as nothing more than a bitter shell of what he used to be. How could I not feel guilty about that?

  The one thing my dad said that stuck in my craw was how he had almost been expecting the things that I had done. The hell with him. If he wanted to invent personality disorders for me that was his business. If he wanted to write me off, fine, let him. As far as my daughters went, he could read himself psychiatry books from now till doomsday for all I cared. He had no idea what was in my heart. He never did and he never would. I wasn’t going to waste any more time worrying about what he thought.

  As I mentioned before, it was five in the morning. It had been days since I’d had any real sleep and my head was feeling kind of fuzzy. I went into the kitchen and made myself some coffee. I decided none of what was going to happen was worth worrying about. I would do what I had to and then move on. Just like anyone else in the world would.

  Chapter 11

  I made sure I was out of the house before my parents woke up. I had my suit on. It was loose on me, especially around the stomach and thighs, but it looked okay. I got in my car and sat motionless for a few minutes. All I could think about was getting my hands on some cocaine and doing a few lines. I almost drove to Earl’s house, but I stopped myself. I had slipped the night before and I knew I couldn’t slip again, at least not if I wanted any chance of keeping the promise I made for my girls. As bad as the craving was, as fuzzy as my head felt, I knew I had to fight it. I checked the time and saw it was six thirty. I needed something so I drove to a twenty-four-hour convenience store and bought a box of powdered doughnuts and a large black coffee. The doughnuts and the coffee helped somewhat. At least they made my head feel a little less fuzzy.

  While I sat in my car, I checked the scratches along my cheek in the rearview mirror. The swelling had gone down. They were still noticeable, but they didn’t look as bad as they had.

  It was almost seven. Still an hour before church. It had been years since I had been to services, the last time probably being right after Courtney was born. I couldn’t say exactly why I had decided to go today. It was just something that I felt I needed to do. Something that was driving me at a gut level.

  I finished off the powdered doughnuts. I still had fifty minutes to kill. My shoes were looking scuffed, so I went back into the convenience store and found a shoeshine kit. After I had worked on them for a while, they looked better. I still had twenty minutes to kill. I went back into the store, bought a paper, and read it until it was time to leave. Then I drove over to the church and found a spot in the parking lot.

  The attendance was better than at Kelley’s the night before, the church about three-quarters filled. Minister Charles Thayer was standing behind the pulpit announcing news about different members of the congregation. I took an empty seat in the last pew. One of his eyebrows rose as he recognized me.

  I noticed Phil sitting in the front with Clara, and his younger daughter, Megan. Clara had makeup caked on, but even so, dark purple bruises stood out along the side of her face. Somehow Phil sensed that I was there. He glanced back at me quickly, his expression completely blank. Other members of the congregation started to look back at me, some of them glaring openly. I guess Thayer decided to address the situation. He made an announcement welcoming me, stating that while I had committed a terrible crime I had confessed freely in open court, and if God could forgive and love a repentant sinner, so could my neighbors. There was some mumbling after that, but there was also head-nodding. Phil Coakley sat stone faced. I could see Clara squeezing his hand. I could see Megan fighting back tears. After that I only half heard what Thayer had to say. I was too busy watching Phil, trying to make up my mind about something.

  When Toni had leaked out her secret about Phil it got me thinking about how I could use it. Now I had an idea worked out. Nobody would end up dead from it, nobody would even get badly hurt. It wouldn’t solve my current problem, but it would buy me some time, maybe a week, maybe longer. And maybe given the extra time my problem would resolve itself. Who knows how much longer Manny really had? Maybe he had a month or two like the doctors were telling him, but with some luck maybe he only had a week or less. If I could keep finding ways to buy myself time I had a chance of getting out of this mess without having to kill anyone.

  What troubled me about my idea was that while no one would get physically hurt, it would end up humiliating Phil, and would also damage and possibly even destroy his career. From the hints Toni had dropped I had a pretty good idea who Phil was seeing. Better than even money it was the redhead, Susie. I didn’t know for sure, but I had a pretty good feeling that’s who it was. With Muscle-shirt strutting about there was no way she could entertain anyone in one of the back rooms at Kelley’s. She’d have to meet Phil in a motel. Also, I know it’s kind of a cliché saying this about a stripper (and more times than not it turns out
to be the exact opposite), but she seemed like a genuinely sweet girl. I could see her looking on it as an act of mercy. But still, if Phil and she were caught in a motel room and a morals charge was brought against him, it would sideline him, and maybe for a good deal longer than a week. I was still trying to make up my mind when Thayer’s sermon ended. People started to mill out of the church, a few of them nodding to me as they went by.

  As I got up to leave, I heard Thayer call my name. He was walking briskly to catch up to me, a broad smile on his round red face.

  ‘I was glad to see you here today, Joe,’ he said as he took my hand with both of his.

  ‘Thank you, Reverend.’

  ‘I hope this is going to be a weekly occurrence?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Good, good.’ His eyes moistened as he gave my hand a couple of friendly pats. ‘I am so glad for this change of heart in you, Joe. Remember, in the eyes of God, we’re all sinners. But for the truly repentant, it’s never too late for redemption. Remember that. I’ll be looking for you here next week. And hopefully your parents also. If you could, tell them for me, we’ve missed them here.’

  He let go of my hand and gave me a warm pat on the back before turning to talk to one of the other members of his flock. I knew I wouldn’t be seeing him again. At least not in church.

  When I got to my car I found Phil leaning against it. The way the sunlight hit his face made it look like some crazy grotesque quilt that had been stitched together with red and blue thread. As I approached him, he showed me a little smile.

  ‘I can’t help wondering what con you’re trying to pull, Joe,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Why you would bother showing up at church? Because, Joe, you’re about as repentant as a rabid dog.’

  ‘And why’s that?’

  He shook his head sadly, still smiling. ‘If you were truly repentant you’d confess to all your crimes, not just the one you were caught red handed in.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Of course you do. Before you set fire to the documents that I had collected, I was building a case against you for money you had stolen from the evidence room. There were a number of thefts and burglaries along the way, weren’t there, Joe? And maybe worse crimes than that?’

  He stopped, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. I saw a brightness flash in his eyes and then a crazy smile twisting his lips. Before I realized what was happening, he jumped forward and grabbed me, trying to pin my arms behind me. A few of the churchgoers stopped to gawk at us. More started to come over. Thayer wandered over, a look of bewilderment spoiling his round red face.

  The last thing I wanted to do was scuffle with Phil in the church parking lot. I let him pin my arms back. ‘Let go of me,’ I said, trying to keep my voice calm.

  He ignored me. ‘Call the police,’ he demanded to the crowd that had formed. I heard someone calling with a cell phone.

  Thayer stepped forward. ‘Phil, what in the world is going on?’

  ‘This repentant sinner of yours was snorting cocaine before services. You can see the residue on his nose, chin and suit jacket. I’m holding him until the police come.’

  I started laughing. Normally I would have just stood still until the police arrived, but I didn’t want to risk a drug test and have cocaine from last night show up. ‘Reverend,’ I said, ‘whatever powder is on me is from powdered doughnuts. You’ll find an empty box in my car.’

  Thayer walked over to my car, peeked in, and then walked back to me. He dabbed his finger against my chin and tasted it.

  ‘Phil, let go of Joe immediately,’ he said. ‘I saw an empty box with my own eyes and this is nothing but powdered sugar.’

  Phil didn’t move, at least not at first, and then he reluctantly let go of me. I took a step away from him, making a show of grimacing and rubbing my arms. As I turned to face him I could see nothing but loathing in his eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, without much feeling.

  I held out my hand to him. He had no choice, he had to accept it.

  ‘I am so sorry for what I did to you eight years ago,’ I said, hamming it up, but for the most part meaning what I was saying. ‘I wish to God there was some way I could take it back, that I could’ve been the one stabbed instead of you. But there’s nothing I can do, Phil, except pray that you can find it in your heart to forgive me.’

  It was all true, but I still I laid it on pretty thick. All he could do was stand there and take it. I let my eyes wander to the crowd that had gathered around us and could see that I’d won over a few of my fellow townspeople. Not all, but a few. At that moment I made up my mind. If that sanctimonious holier-than-thou sonofabitch was going to screw around with prostitutes and then try to act morally superior to me, the hell with him.

  A police cruiser pulled up with its siren blaring. Tony Flauria stepped out of it. ‘Okay,’ he said, bulling his way forward, his eyes focused on me, ‘someone call in an emergency?’

  Thayer stepped forward. ‘Nothing but a misunderstanding, Officer.’

  Flauria looked towards Phil. ‘Is that right, Mr Coakley?’

  Phil stood silently for a moment and then nodded.

  Flauria gave me a long hard look before turning back to his cruiser. The crowd started to disperse. Phil hung back until we were alone.

  ‘Hey, Joe,’ he said as he walked off. ‘What can I say? I made a mistake. Don’t worry, next time I’ll be more careful. Next time my evidence will be rock solid. I promise.’

  I watched as he walked away and got in his car. His two girls were sitting there waiting for him. All three of them looked like ghosts as they drove by. I waited until they were out of sight and then walked a block to a payphone. I then called and left a message for Dan Pleasant, telling him where I would be.

  It was ten thirty. After seven years of watching his routine, I knew Morris Smith would be in his office reading the Sunday paper. I headed over to the Bradley county jail. When I got there I found Morris with his feet on his desk, leaning back and doing the Sunday crossword puzzle. He seemed surprised to see me.

  ‘Well, hello there, young fellow,’ he croaked. He struggled to pull his feet off his desk and then extended a hand to me. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’

  ‘I thought I’d swing by and see if I could interest you in a game of checkers.’

  ‘Why, certainly. I’m always up to teaching a youngster like you a lesson or two.’

  His soft rubbery face seemed to light up as he took the checkerboard from his desk drawer.

  ‘How’s business been?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, very light,’ he said. ‘No steady customers since your recent departure. Only a few temporary guests. A few drunks and disorderlies. Nothing too interesting. So, Joe, Sunday’s my day off. How’d you know I’d be here?’

  ‘Come on, Morris. Who are you trying to kid? If you’re going to read the Sunday paper, you might as well collect overtime while doing so.’

  He chuckled at that. We had the pieces set up and his rubbery, jovial face became deadly serious as he made the first move and stared intently at the board.

  I was just killing time while I waited for Dan to show. I wasn’t paying enough attention and before I knew it I had a sure win. There was no way out of it without making an obvious blunder, so I took the game. Morris’s mood seemed to darken with the loss.

  ‘You caught me off guard,’ he noted sourly.

  ‘Sooner or later I was bound to get lucky.’

  ‘Quit gloating and set them up again.’

  I let him win the next three games and his mood brightened.

  ‘Your luck’s left you, young fellow,’ he said as he tried to suppress a smile.

  ‘I’ve got to learn when I’ve met my match,’ I said.

  Halfway through the next game, I let myself accidentally blunder into a combination that would leave me being double-jumped. Morris spotted it and couldn’t keep the sm
ile from his face. He moved quickly, pouncing on the move, and then settled back in his chair, his hands folded across his thick body, a thin Cheshire cat grin playing on his lips.

  ‘So, Joe,’ he said, ‘have you given any thought about leaving Bradley?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it.’

  I pretended to notice the double jump I was being forced into. I winced, swore, and then grudgingly made the move I had to. I could tell Morris appreciated the show. He carefully double-jumped me and picked up my checkers.

  ‘I heard about what happened a couple of nights ago,’ he said. His thick eyelids were raised as he watched me. ‘With Phil’s daughter and those two boys. You almost ended up back here. Or worse.’

  ‘I should have recognized her,’ I said. ‘I hadn’t seen her since she was fourteen, and she was wearing dark glasses, but I should have recognized her.’

  ‘Maybe so. But I think, Joe, your luck has run out in these parts. You’d be better off with a fresh start someplace else. As much as I’d miss these games and the sterling competition that you offer me, I think that would be the best thing for you.’

  There was a knock on the door. As it swung open, Dan Pleasant leaned in.

  ‘I was hoping to catch you here, Morris,’ he said, and then he did a double-take as he pretended to be surprised by my presence.

  ‘Speak of the devil,’ he said. ‘Joe, I was just talking about you.’

  He ambled over to me, a pleasant smile stretched across his face. After we exchanged handshakes, he shook his head as if in amazement.

  ‘How long has it been, Joe? Years, huh?’ Then to Morris, ‘What are you doing letting this miscreant hang around here? He’ll set a bad example for our other tenants.’