Steve started the LTD.
“I could, I could do something, you know,” Trattman said. “You guys’re gonna do something to me, I know some guys and I know the right, I know where to call. You guys oughta think about that.”
“You maybe already did something,” Barry said. “Maybe that’s why you’re here, because you did something.”
“I didn’t do nothing,” Trattman said.
“Well,” Steve said. “Then, you’re all right, Markie.”
“You got nothing to worry about,” Barry said.
Steve turned the LTD right on Commonwealth Avenue. He turned left off Commonwealth Avenue onto Chestnut Hill Drive. He took the left fork onto St. Thomas More Drive and the right turn onto Beacon Street.
Trattman said: “You guys know me. Why’re you guys doing something like this? I thought, you’re doing all right, Steve, for Christ sake. Why’re you doing this?”
“A guy, some guys asked me to talk to you,” Steve said. “I said I’d talk to you. You know, Markie, talk? Didn’t you used to have me and Barry around in case you wanted us to talk to somebody?”
“Sure,” Trattman said. “That’s why I can’t understand this, why you guys’re doing this to me.”
“Because,” Steve said, “for the same reason, we used to do things when you wanted us to. Only this time, we’re doing it for somebody else.”
Steve took the left at Hammond Street and turned right off Hammond into the parking lot behind the Chestnut Hill shopping center on Route 9. He stopped the LTD in the shadows behind R. H. Steams’.
Steve got out of the car and unlatched the seatback on the driver’s side.
Trattman looked at Barry. Barry pointed the revolver at him. “Get outa the car, Markie,” he said.
Trattman said: “Please, you guys, lemme talk this over, all right?”
Steve said: “Now, Markie.”
Trattman said: “I didn’t do nothing.”
Barry moved the revolver closer to Trattman’s face. “Markie,” he said. “There’s things worse’n talking, you know? Right now all we’re supposed to do is talk to you, and that’s really all we wanna do. You’re liable to get everybody all pissed off, you keep acting like this.”
Trattman hesitated. Steve reached into the car and grabbed the left shoulder of Trattman’s coat. He pulled. Trattman’s upper torso shifted in Steve’s direction. Steve said: “Markie, you really got to cut this out, all right? You know what can happen to a guy that doesn’t wanna do what people tell him. Now don’t give us a lot of shit, okay? We’re just a couple of guys that’ve got to talk to you and we’re gonna talk to you and you’re gonna talk to us, and that’s all there is to it. Unless you don’t wanna talk or something. Then it’s different, you know? You know how things are. Now come outa the fuckin’ car before I start to get mad.”
Trattman pulled himself forward and got out of the LTD. Barry got out quickly behind him. Barry handed the revolver to Steve.
Trattman stood next to the car, his arms and hands close to his sides. He faced Steve. “I didn’t do anything, you guys. I dunno what this’s all about, and if I did something then I would, wouldn’t I? And I really don’t. You guys, you guys’ve gotta believe me.”
“Move around the backa the car, Markie,” Steve said.
Trattman raised his hands slightly, palms up.
“Move, Markie, you fuckin’ little prick,” Steve said. “You tryin’ to make me shoot you, for Christ sake?”
Trattman moved sideways to the left rear panel of the LTD. He stood with his arms tight against his sides. Steve stood three feet away from him, pointing the revolver. Barry walked around behind Steve and stood at his right.
“Honest to God,” Trattman said, “Steve, may my mother get cancer, I had nothing to do with it. Honest to God, Steve. You, can’t you tell them that? I know how it looks. I know. But honest to God, Steve, I didn’t.”
“He didn’t do it,” Barry said. “That what you were gonna ask him, Steve?”
“Yeah,” Steve said.
“That’s what we’re supposed to talk to you about, Markie,” Barry said.
“Yeah,” Steve said, “this thing, you didn’t have nothing to do with it?”
“Steve,” Trattman said.
“What thing was that, Markie?” Steve said.
“Steve,” Trattman said. His voice broke. “Steve, did I ever lie to you? I never told you anything, did I?”
“Now?” Barry said.
“Uh huh,” Steve said.
Barry took two strides toward Trattman, closing his right hand and swinging the fist back in the motion of a softball pitcher. Trattman jerked his hands up toward his face. Barry swung his fist forward and punched Trattman in the groin as Trattman’s torso began to move backward over the trunk of the LTD. When the fist connected, Trattman’s torso stopped and began to move forward quickly. His hands dropped from his face. His mouth gaped. His eyes stared. He exhaled and moaned simultaneously. He clapped his hands to his groin. He doubled over.
Barry took a short stride backward. He stepped forward on his left foot and brought his right knee up fast. It caught Trattman on the mouth. There was a cracking sound. Trattman’s head snapped up. His body, still in a crouch, sagged off to the left.
Barry grabbed the lapels of Trattman’s coat and pulled him up. He leaned Trattman against the car. Trattman kept his head down. He cried. He spit blood and pink material from his mouth. He raised his head. He had closed his eyes. His nose and mouth were pulpy and covered with blood. Some blood and pink material were on his coat.
“What’s this thing you didn’t have nothing to do with, Markie?” Steve said.
Trattman moved his head once to the left and once to the right. He extended his tongue, then retracted it, tracing the tip of it along his lips. He lowered his head and spat blood and pink material on the pavement of the parking lot.
“He don’t answer,” Barry said.
“Must be there’s nobody home or something,” Steve said.
“Maybe I better knock again,” Barry said. “Make sure.”
“Yeah,” Steve said.
“No,” Trattman said, uttering it in a high voice as “Mo.”
“Shut up, you fuck,” Barry said. He hit Trattman very hard, twice, in the pit of the stomach. Trattman started to double over with the impact of the first punch. The second brought a rush of air from his mouth. Steve and Barry stepped back two paces, quickly. Trattman fell forward on the pavement and vomited half-digested steak and salad, and blood. He lay on his chest, his head resting on its left side. He breathed noisily.
“Whaddaya think, Steve,” Barry said, “you think he’s through?”
“Better give him another minute or so,” Steve said. “He might have some more in him.”
Trattman, his eyes closed, expelled more vomit, blood and pink material from his mouth. It ran down his cheek to the pavement.
“Give him a try now,” Steve said.
Barry stepped forward. He picked Trattman up by the collar of his coat, at the nape of the neck. He leaned Trattman against the side of the LTD. Trattman’s head lolled off to the left. His eyes remained closed.
“Who’re the kids, Markie?” Steve said.
Trattman retched and bled from the mouth and nose. He raised his right hand feebly toward his face. He touched his face lightly with the tips of his fingers. Slowly he shook his head.
“Can’t hear you, Markie,” Steve said. “Who’re the kids, Markie?”
Trattman explored the pulpy flesh around his mouth. He sighed. Tears came from his closed eyes. He shook his head slowly. “I,” he said, “they … I didn’t …”
“He still says he don’t know nothing,” Barry said.