"Why the hell not?"
"Well…" The red deepened into crimson. "My wife doesn't know I was out. I kinda snuck out after she fell asleep. She takes an Ambien, she wouldn't notice if I had the poker game in the bed on top of her."
"Josh, an innocent man is in jail right now and you're willing to let him stay there because you're afraid of your wife?"
"You never met Janelle, have you?"
"No…"
"There you go."
"For the love of…"
"And you got a weird sense of humor calling Johnnie Scumbag innocent." Josh's face went hard when he said it.
I met his eyes evenly. "He didn't rob Tino, Josh. If he was with you at the poker game, he didn't kill Nina either. Or the baby."
"Yeah. I know all about that. It's a tragedy. But Johnnie ain't no saint, either."
"I know that."
Josh nodded, solemnly. "You know about Geraldine?"
The name sounded familiar, but a face wouldn't appear in my mind. "I think so. What about her?"
"You mighta called her Sharkie."
"Oh yeah, Sharkie." Sharkie was a local hustler who fleeced the uptown boys whenever they played pool on the L.E.S. She wasn't a supremely skilled player, but was extremely gifted, nonetheless. Gifted by the way of 38-24-36, two inches of tits more than the Commodores granted. She played in a wifebeater t-shirt and a pair of bike shorts. Looking like she did, the best pool players in the world had trouble lining up a shot while staring at her womanly goodness. To top it all off, she possessed both a smile and nature so sweet, her marks would lose all of their money and then break out credit cards to buy her drinks when she was done. "What's this got to do with Sharkie?" I asked. "She hasn't been around in a while."
Josh made a face like he'd drank some of his own coffee. "You can thank Johnnie Scumbag."
"What are you talking about?"
"About a year and a half ago, she was in here and had a bit too much." Josh made the drinky-drinky motion. "She left with Scumbag."
"Sharkie left with Scumbag?" I couldn't keep the horror out of my voice.
"Yeah, I know. Some people are inclined to believe that she was slipped something a little harder than alcohol, if you know what I'm saying."
I didn't say anything.
"Anyway," Josh continued, "Six months pass and Sharkie's heavy with kid. Tells Scumbag he's the poppa. I mean, Sharkie was a standup broad. She didn't cry foul or nothin', just said to Scumbag that the baby was his. Scumbag pulls his innocent act and disappears on her. How much money do you think the kid's seen from him so far?"
I didn't say anything again. The answer was obvious. I knew Sharkie and I knew Scumbag. There was no defense. I felt like an armless boxer fighting for the heavyweight title.
"Exactly. So don't come preaching to me about poor, innocent Johnnie Scumbag." Josh clicked his tongue in disgust. "And if that don't beat all, the fucking kid's gotta look just like Scumbag. Couldn't look like Sharkie, could it? What a fucking world."
I was down to bare knuckles. Last resorting for a man I didn't even like. I already felt covered in the film of slime that Johnnie Scumbag seemed to leave wherever he went. But I did it anyway. I went to talk to Tino.
We met at a bar on the corner of Sullivan and Houston. I remembered the place as a biker bar twenty years ago. Now the place was a lounge. Progress, I suppose. Tino looked off into the south Manhattan skyline when I brought our drinks over. He swallowed hard twice before he seemed capable of drinking his beer. Tino was a small man made downright miniscule by pain. His grief was a palpable thing that he wore around his neck like an anchor in a world rapidly filling with water.
I broke the quiet moment. "Johnnie didn't do it, Tino."
Tino nodded. "Then I will find out who did." The last remaining touches of his Spanish accent flicked across his words like a feather.
"You can tell the cops that you found out. That he didn't do it."
He nodded again, more to himself than to me. "Don't care."
"Tino…" I didn't know how to finish the sentence, so I didn't.
"I wasn't home. I took an extra night at work to cover the money that cocksucker Johnnie took from us. I would have been home if not for him. I could have protected my wife. My baby."
"You don't know what would have happened, Tino."
"Or I could have died with them. Even that would have been better." Tino cleared his throat hard.
We sat in the leaded quiet for a time. Tino's watery eyes never left the darkening skyline. "Did you know it was a boy?"
Two days passed before I met up with Johnnie Scumbag again.
"You know what an all-region DVD player is?"
Johnnie gave me a look through the plexiglass like I'd lost my mind. "I know what a DVD player is."
I shook my head. "When they first started making the players, they made them all-region. Which means that if you wanted to watch a movie that was only available in French Polynesia, you could. Then the companies figured out that if they made machines that only played the region in which they were bought, that they could sell more. That way if anyone moved from one county to another, they'd not only have to buy a new player, but all new DVDs as well. Also, depending on what country makes what movie, different release dates, etc, etc… Sometimes a movie will already out on DVD in one country before it's in theaters in another."
Johnnie continued staring at me, puzzled. "And?"
"And, Tino had one of those models."
"I don't know what…"
"You see, Johnnie, Tino loves kung-fu movies. He's loved them since he was a kid. He collects them. Problem was, a lot of the movies he wanted were only made for the Chinese region. Are you following me?"
Johnnie nodded, mutely.
"So Tino goes out and he buys himself one of these all-region DVD players and orders the movies from Chinatown. Thing is, these machines are kinda rare nowadays. Only the hardcore guys own them and pay top dollar. So, a stolen one is easy to track."
"Uh-huh."
I pulled a cigarette out, placed it between my lips, feeling more than a little like Columbo. The guard "ahem"-med at me.
"Not lighting it," I said, a little pissed that my Columbo flow was now fucked up. "Where was I?"
"DVD player?"
"Ah, right. So, I hit the pawn shops. Sure enough, right on Sixth Avenue, less than a half mile from Tino's apartment, I find myself a pawn shop. Beginner's luck, I guess. Know what they had?"
Johnnie blinked at me, thinking it over and taking longer than he should. "Tino's DVD player?"
"Atta boy! You are following. Now, the pawn shop guy, he would never admit to buying stolen goods, much less give me a name or tell me that he buys the goods from the local junkies." I chewed the filter and smiled as I blew the pretend smoke slowly out my nostrils. "But it's amazing what they will tell you when you break out the cigar cutter and a can of Sterno."
Johnnie nodded silently as the color dropped out of his face between heartbeats.
I let him stew for a few seconds. "I found Chauncy, Johnnie."
"I didn't…"
"A couple of twenties passed into a junkie's hand and they'll tell you that they like to hump pumpkins, much less point a finger atanother junkie." I stubbed out the cigarette I never lit in the metal ashtray still bolted to the table.
"I didn't rob Tino, T.C. I didn't kill Nina," Johnnie's voice was starting to squeak with panic.
"No. No you didn't. You just paid Chauncey to break in and rob the place to get all your stuff back. Nina walked in and he killed her."
"I never meant…"
"You cut a path. Johnnie. Everywhere you go. Everything you touch leaves behind the stink of you. And I'm not just talking about that Fulton Fish Market at high noon aroma that comes out your pores, either."
Johnnie hung his head in…what? I don't know. Who knows if a person like him can feel shame. Or guilt. If I had the money to bet, I'd say that he hung his head in simple defeat at being found out. "What are you going to do?"
"Oh, there's a lot I could do. I could drop Chauncey off at the police station and let him confess, which at worst gets you an accessory charge."