Small crimes bgooj-1 Page 8

  'Let me tell you about this special room he built,' he continued. 'This college kid up in Burlington was supposedly manufacturing and distributing crystal meth without Junior's blessing. A few months ago this kid disappears without a trace, and then a rumor starts circulating about Junior's special room and how Junior had this college kid brought there and tied to the butcher's table. According to the rumor, Junior chopped the kid up with a meat cleaver and burned the body parts in the furnace. I had to investigate it. Even though I knew it could end up biting me in the ass with Manny, I had to look into it. So I got a search warrant and sure enough I found a soundproof room with nothing in it but a butcher's table and a furnace. Forensics went over it with a fine-tooth comb but Junior must have scrubbed it clean.'

  'And you would've arrested Junior if you found anything?'

  'I would've had to,' he said. 'I know this must sound out of character for me, but I would've had to take my chances with Manny. Some things you just can't ignore. But I promise you this; when Manny checks out Junior will be following close behind.'

  I had gotten back to Dan's truck. I swung a quick U-turn and pulled up behind it.

  He turned to me and placed a hand on my arm in a brotherly sort of way. His pleasant smile was back on, but it didn't quite erase the weariness around his eyes. 'Look, Joe,' he said, 'I know it's been almost eight years. As a friend I've taken care of things. Go to Kelley's, have yourself a good time.'

  He started to get out of my car but stopped and faced me again. 'You've got two days left, Joe. Take care of it, okay?'

  I half heard myself asking how I was supposed to get to Manny while he was being monitored twenty-four hours a day in the hospital.

  'You're a smart man, think of something. If you can't there's always our DA friend.'

  'If anything happens to Phil I'm the first guy they'll go after,' I said.

  He stared at me for what seemed like minutes. 'Worst case get yourself a hunting rifle and wait outside his door Monday night. I'll make sure my boys bungle the investigation.'

  I knew he was lying. I also knew the Bradley police would take charge of any murder within the city limits. If the Bradley police got a strong whiff that I was involved, which they would, then his deputies would step in and take care of me. Maybe he wouldn't even take that chance and would have his deputies waiting nearby to deal with me on the spot. He was simply improvising on Plan B where Phil and I both ended up dead.

  As he was getting into his truck, I yelled out to him, asking him what Manny had on him. He ignored my question. Before driving off he rolled down his window and gave me a halfhearted wave.

  I sat in my car numb. I don't think I ever felt the level of despair that I felt right then. Not even after my sentencing. Not even after Elaine had dumped me and had my divorce papers delivered by courier while I sat locked away in jail. 1 felt like I could barely move, as if all my strength had bled out of me.

  The other day when I left jail I was determined not to cause any more damage in my life. But that was short lived. In less than a day I put two boys in the hospital and God knows what I did to Clara Coakley. And now all I could think about was murder. Because Dan was right, that was the only way out, or at least the only way out I could see. It had to be Manny or Phil. The problem was I didn't see any way to get to Manny and I'd already done so much damage to Phil. The idea of doing any more just made me weaker.

  At that moment, sitting in my car, I don't think I ever felt lower in my life. It all seemed so pointless. If I had a gun I probably would've used it. And during that moment of great despair all I could think about was Kelley's; as if they could offer me some sort of salvation. At least help me get through the next few hours.

  Chapter 9

  Kelley's was in the middle of nowhere, sitting on the edge of Bradley off Route Six. It was maybe eighty yards from the road and if you didn't know it was there you'd probably pass by without realizing it. Even if you did see the building you wouldn't know what it was. And that was the way it was supposed to be. Nothing about the concrete exterior would give you any idea what went on inside. As long as they made their monthly payoffs and kept things quiet, the local police and sheriff s office left them alone. My guess was there were a good number of people who'd lived in Bradley their whole lives and didn't know Kelley's existed.

  Before my arrest I used to spend a lot of time at Kelley's. It was a good place to hang out. Good music, good booze, and an easy source for cocaine. Most nights I'd just sit and talk to Earl and not even pay attention to what was happening onstage. All the time I spent there, I never once ventured out of the main club area. I never went into the back rooms or took any of the girls up on their offers. I guess back then I was just looking for ways to stay out of the house and Kelley's was as good as any.

  I ended up driving past its entranceway several times before I found it. It was dark and it had been a while, but eventually I found the narrow dirt path that made up its driveway. The parking lot was less than half full, which was slow for a Saturday night. A biker type guarding the door gave me the once-over as I made my way in, but didn't say anything. There was no cover charge at Kelley's. They had plenty of ways to take money off you without needing a cover charge.

  I saw Earl working the bar. Earl owned the place and most nights doubled as bartender and bouncer. He looked like a lot of bikers I've known – a big bald-headed guy with a mustache and goatee and thick arms that were decorated with tattoos. He did a double take when he saw me.

  'Holy shit,' he said. 'Joe, Joe Denton. Howya doin', man? Get over here!'

  I took a seat at the bar and we shook hands. He had added a couple of tattoos to the side of his neck and a necklace tattoo made up of intertwined serpents that went around his collarbone. He gave me a big grin.

  'Shit, it's been a long fucking time. You surviving okay on the outside, man?'

  I was going to give him some bullshit answer but I was feeling too low for that. 'It's been rough,' I admitted.

  'Yeah, I hear you.' He gave me a sympathetic nod. Lowering his voice, 'You need anything? Coke?'

  I hadn't thought about drugs until that moment, but as soon as he mentioned coke I found myself weakening. A couple of lines Would help clear my head and put me in a better mood. It scared me to realize how badly I wanted to do some lines right then. It was a struggle, but I shook my head. Almost as if it were a dream I heard myself tell him no thanks.

  He seemed somewhat surprised, but nodded. 'Hey, man, you change your mind, let me know. At least let me buy you a drink. What will you have?'

  'Just a beer,' I said.

  'You got it, buddy.'

  He opened a bottle of imported ale that I used to drink exclusively and handed it to me, still showing a friendly grin. Bob Seger's 'Her Strut' was blasting out behind me. I turned around and saw a slender, dark-haired girl onstage naked except for garter belts and high-heeled shoes. She was moving quickly to the music, but stopped to squat down so that an overweight slob signaling with a dollar bill could have a better look. The dollar bill was slipped into one of her garter belts and she held her position for a few more seconds before moving off. Vermont's a topless-only state, but the rules for the most part were ignored at Kelley's.

  'We've got a new crop of girls since you've been here last. That's Cindy on stage. Man, I tell you, she could hurt you.'

  I looked around the room. There were maybe a dozen guys sitting around the stage and another ten scattered at tables. I didn't spot anyone I knew. I took a long drink of my ale and then turned back to Earl. 'You're still playing good music,' I said.

  'Yeah, what can I tell you? I'm stuck in the early eighties. The girls, man, they're constantly giving me shit about playing their own music for their sets. Fuck that. I'm playing what I want to listen to. But for you, any request – just name it.'

  'Seger's good,' I said. I wouldn't mind listening to some ZZ Top. Creedence. Maybe some Stones. Dire Straits.'

  'You got it, man.' He gave me a sheepish look
. 'Shit, you were gone for a long time. How'd you spend your time while locked up?'

  'I thought a lot, read a lot, and played a lot of checkers. I just kept trying to make it to the next day.'

  'I hear you.' He pointed a thumb at my gut. 'Man, I'll tell you, you look like you got out of jail in great shape.'

  'I did five hundred pushups and two thousand sit-ups every day.'

  He cocked an eyebrow, not quite believing me. 'Five hundred pushups at one time?'

  'Five sets, one hundred pushups and four hundred sit-ups to a set.'

  We both turned and watched the dancer finish her last song. When I turned back to Earl, I could see his eyes brighten. 'What about those Pats, huh?' he asked. 'Who'd ever thought they'd win a Super Bowl?'

  'I never would've guessed it,' I said.

  'You get to watch the game?'

  'Yeah, the warden loaned me a thirteen-inch black-and-white set. The reception wasn't too good but I was able to make it out.'

  'Man, that sucks having to watch the game like that. Hey, look, I got the Super Bowl on tape. I also got a forty-two-inch plasma TV. Anytime, come over to my place and we'll watch it and have a few beers.'

  'Thanks, I appreciate the offer.' I laughed. 'If I was on the outside I would've lost a bundle on that game. I never would've picked the Pats to cover.'

  'Yeah? Guess what? I put twenty grand on them to win. I like to think having to pay off had something to do with that sonofabitch Vassey getting the big C. It's just too bad his punk kid didn't get it with him.'

  He was still grinning but his eyes dulled and his color dropped a shade, making the blue-green ink of his tattoos stand out starkly in contrast.

  'How's life been under Junior?'

  'Not good, man. I'm thinking of selling out.' He started drumming his fingers hard along the bar.

  He lowered his voice and edged closer to me.

  'The old man was bad enough, but that punk kid of his is killing me.'

  'Yeah?'

  'Shit, yeah. Vassey was hitting me for fifteen hundred a week. The first thing this punk kid did when the old man goes into the hospital is bump it to thirty-five. I can't afford that, not with the police contributions I got to make. This kid is squeezing me to death. I've been having to take bigger cuts from my girls to make his payoffs, and they don't like it – I've already lost three of them because of this.' He leaned even closer to me. 'The last few months I've been talking with some of my biker buddies. I'm thinking of standing up to that punk.'

  He gave me a weak shrug as he leaned back and lowered his gaze. 'But I'm not sure I want to go to war right now. Probably better to sell the place and move on. Of course, that punk is only offering me a tenth of what Kelley's is worth. I'll tell you, man, my pop would be rolling over in his grave if he saw what was happening.'

  'I'd stand up to him if I were you,' I said.

  'You would, huh?'

  I took a long drink, finishing off the ale. 'Yeah, I would,' I said. 'I know the sheriff s office isn't too thrilled with Junior right now. I think they'd back you up on it. I think there are a lot of people around here who'd like to see Junior disappear.'

  Earl thought it over, and as he did, he showed me a weak smile. 'Man, you're probably right. I don't know. I'd probably just end up seeing my place torched and some of my girls hurt. What sucks is if I sell out to that punk, he'll just drive Kelley's into the ground. My girls wouldn't stand for him.'

  'Maybe you should try holding out for a while. Things might change.'

  'Nothing's going to fucking change,' he spat out bitterly. 'I'm not the only one he's squeezing out. That punk's pulling the same shit with a bunch of college clubs. One of them has already sold out. He now owns the Blue Horn out in Eastfield. From what I hear he only paid twenty thou for it.'

  'That's probably just Junior bragging.'

  'No.' Earl shook his head, his eyes cold blue steel. 'I heard that straight from the guy who used to own it. He was lucky he could talk with the way he'd been worked over.'

  'Why would Junior want to own a college club?'

  'Because he's a greedy fucker. That's all there is to it, man. And it's not just one. As I was saying, he's squeezing a bunch of them.'

  Earl noticed my bottle was empty and replaced it. I lifted my ale towards him. 'Well, anyway,' I said,' here's to better days.'

  Earl nodded. I hear you, man.'

  We sat and bullshitted for a while longer before I moved to one of the tables facing the stage. There was a thin redhead who had taken her T-shirt off and was dancing topless to Creedence's 'Bad Moon Rising'. As I watched her, I found my mind wandering. I was too preoccupied wondering what interest Junior had in college clubs to pay much attention to her. It didn't seem to be in Junior's character to want to own legitimate businesses. Clubs like the Blue Horn are nothing more than hangouts for college kids. They'll bring in a band, charge cover, and sell food and soft drinks. Most of these clubs don't have liquor licenses. None of them makes much money. It didn't seem to be something that would be worth Junior's trouble. After a while I decided to give up worrying about it.

  'Bad Moon Rising' ended and the redhead walked around the stage to let guys slip dollar bills in her G-string. She had nice green eyes and a sweet smile. She also didn't look much older than eighteen. Even with her mostly naked, I couldn't help thinking she seemed more like a high school cheerleader than a stripper. The DJ announced, 'Susie Q for our own little Susie,' and the Creedence song by the same name started. The redhead, Susie, slipped off her G-string and started moving rhythmically to the music. I noticed a ratty-looking guy with a thick mustache staring at her intently. He had kind of a slight to medium build, but was wearing a muscle shirt and was trying to puff himself out. Every time someone would slip a dollar bill under her garter, the muscles along his jaw would bulge. One guy let his hand linger a little too long on her thigh and Muscle-shirt started to push himself out of his chair, his body tense and his eyes filled with violence. The hand was removed, and Muscle-shirt, with what looked like a great deal of effort, forced himself back down, his eyes still seething.

  When the song was over, the redhead collected the dollar bills that had been thrown onstage and then flashed a sweet smile before walking off. As soon as she was gone, Muscle-shirt left his seat and got in the face of the guy who had let his hand linger. This guy looked like a truck driver. A big burly fellow with thick ham-hock hands. At first it looked like they were going to get into it, but the big burly guy lost his nerve. Muscle-shirt had his finger in the guy's face and you could see the life just go right out of his eyes. All he wanted was to get the hell out of there. Muscle-shirt jabbed him hard in the chest with his forefinger and then walked back to his seat, more puffed up than before.

  I had finished my ale and made my way back to the bar to buy another one, but Earl wouldn't take my money.

  'Hey, man,' he said as he opened up another bottle for me, 'tonight it's on the house. Consider it a welcome-home party.'

  'About time I had one,' I said. I accepted the ale from him and pointed a thumb at Muscle-shirt. 'What's the story there? How come you let him get away with that type of behavior?'

  Earl showed an uneasy smile. 'Well, you know how it is. I like having Susie dance here. She's a sweet kid and she's nice to look at, you know? Kind of makes me feel good to have her around. If I throw the Rooster out, I think I'd lose her.'

  'The Rooster, huh? That's a great name for him.'

  'Yeah, it fits, don't it?' Earl made a face as if he were suffering a bad case of gas. I probably should have a talk with him.'

  I went back to my table and watched as Earl approached Muscle-shirt. He put a hand on the guy's shoulder and moved his face so it was inches from Muscle-shirt's ear. I could tell he didn't like what he was being told. He tried to argue, but the more he did, the more pressure Earl applied to his shoulder. He seemed to be struggling to keep himself sitting straight in his chair. After a short while, Muscle-shirt shut his mouth and nodded, the muscles alo
ng his jaw bulging heavily. Earl forced a handshake out of him and then went back to the bar, giving me a wink as he went by.

  The next dancer was introduced as Toni. My jaw dropped when I saw her. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall and was at most ninety pounds, but she was a knockout. Maybe the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen. Long curly black hair, big brown eyes, and lips that could stop your heart. She wasn't exposing anything for her first song, wearing a belly shirt, hot pants and high heels. The Stones.'

  ‘Angie' blasted out from the loudspeakers and as she started dancing she caught my eye and gave me a smile. Her smile did something to me. It made me feel a little funny inside. I know it sounds ridiculous, reacting that way because a stripper deemed me worthy of a smile, but that was the effect she had.

  I heard someone call my name. A heavyset man in his late forties had sat down next to me and was offering me his hand. He looked somewhat familiar but I couldn't place him.

  'Joe?' he asked again. 'Joe Denton?'

  I shook hands with him, puzzled, trying to figure out why his small bloodshot eyes and doughy features seemed familiar. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'Do I know you?'

  'We know each other. I'm a few years older than you, but I grew up in Bradley. You were closer in age to my brother, Billy.'

  I could see the resemblance then. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'You're Scott Ferguson.'

  'That's right.'

  'You joined the army or something, didn't you?'

  'Yep. I joined up when I was eighteen. I didn't move back here until two years after my brother's death.'

  We both sat quietly for a moment and nursed our beers. It was as if everything around me at that point were a million miles away. The music, the heart-stopping little dynamo on-stage, the club, everything.

  'That's a shame about what happened to your brother,' I said.

  He nodded in agreement. 'You investigated Billy's murder, didn't you?'

  'That's right, I did. That was a while ago, though.' He sat silently for a long moment, brooding. Finally, he asked, 'It was brutal, wasn't it?’