He drove to Little Italy, went into a barbershop there, and sure enough, a bookie by the name of Lonnie was sitting in a chair, marking up the form sheets, he wasn’t happy to see Kebar, who said,
“Get your ass in gear, we’re taking a little ride.”
Lonnie looked around for help but the other customers were suddenly engrossed in other activities, no one was going to run interference for him with the demented cop. Lonnie made a show of putting the paper aside, sighed, and followed Kebar outside. As they got in the car, Kebar said,
“That sigh you gave, hold the thought, you’re gonna fucking need it.”
Kebar had the radio on, not the police scanner but the C and W channel, they always played Johnny Cash and sure enough, here he was with “The Man Comes Around.”
Listening to Kebar sing along with Cash, that scared the be-Jaysus out of Lonnie more than anything else, and the way he leaned on the line about a guy taking names, something very ominous about that.
Kebar took Lonnie to the same area of ground where he’d sent the kid sprawling in the dirt, pulled up, let his window down, said,
“Good spot to dump a body, you think?”
Lonnie thought,
“Oh sweet fuck.”
Kebar took out his Glock, let it lie loosely in his lap, said,
“I’m going to ask you one time for some information, and if you stall, shoot me a line, I’m going to shoot you in the balls, you real clear on that?”
He was.
Kebar turned the radio off, leaned back, then asked,
“Morronni got some scumbag to do a number on my sister, the full beating and...”
He had to grab a breath, then:
“And... violated her, she’s a little handicapped but she’d have known she was being hurt, now take your time, I want to know who’d be up for that type of... job?”
Lonnie racked his mind for some out, couldn’t find one, said,
“There’s a psycho, a real piece of work, that kind of... stuff, he loves it and if it was a retard—”
He instantly regretted using the word but fuck, he was nervous.
He chanced a look at Kebar, and no reaction save a slight tightening of his mouth. Kebar asked,
“The name and where he hangs?”
“Fernandez, he likes to go to the strip joint on Eighth and Twentieth, he’s a real dangerous mother, does crystal and has a crew of some very deranged bikers.”
Kebar nodded, said,
“Good, you did good, just one thing.”
Then he suddenly whacked Lonnie under his chin, hard and brutal, said,
“Retard, that’s a real ugly word, try and drop it, okay?”
Lonnie was seeing stars and he was fairly certain he’d had some teeth loosened. Kebar put the car in gear, asked,
“Drop you someplace?”
Lonnie, barely able to speak, muttered,
“Any subway station, any one that’s near.”
Five minutes later, he was getting out of the car, blood and sweat running down his face. Kebar said,
“You won’t be tipping off anybody, will you, Lonnie?”
Lonnie swore on his mother’s grave.
Kebar smiled, said,
“Be seeing you.”
Lonnie watched him drive off and hoped Kebar wouldn’t find out his mother was alive and well.
How well I have learned that there is no fence to sit on between heaven and hell. There is a deep wide gulf, a
chasm, and in that chasm is no place for any man.
Ten
I’m not going to make excuses here, as the yanks say, it got away from me.
Lucia.
The darkness had been building in my head and I liked Nora, Jesus wept, I never liked no one me whole life and she was me shot at the other life but I was afraid if I didn’t get release soon, I’d go after her. Then I zoned, and I was outside the hospital, I could see meself, walking along the corridors, it was night and the dimmers were on and all I could see was that beautiful white neck, I’m not even sure if I knew who it was it belonged to anymore and a tiny part of me was saying,
“This is a good thing, going to see the poor girl, give her a bit of company.”
And then...
It gets all fuzzy here and next thing I was back in my car, the darkness lifting, and I was thinking of a nice place I might bring Nora for dinner.
I began to see Nora regularly, it started slow, but in jig time we were seeing each other about three times a week. I liked her a lot and thing is, she made me feel good about me own self and I don’t want to go on about it, but her neck... just waiting... after Lucia, I was... what’s the word, sated, she was my swan... didn’t know exactly what I was doing... that’s the best bit.
How rare is that?
The last thing I’d planned on was getting involved but it snuck up on me. The lovemaking was real fine and one evening, exhausted, she asked me, her head lying on my chest,
“You like me, huh?”
I smiled, said,
“Well, you’re not the worst.”
Then, of course, the woman’s question, the one that guys hate:
“So Shea, where are we going with this?”
I had her neck in me sights but no hurry... right?
I said,
“Let’s see how it goes.”
Wrong answer.
She was up, getting dressed, said,
“Fucking guys, all the same, you call me when you know what you want.”
And was gone.
I muttered the mantra of men all over the planet:
“What’d I do?”
Course I knew, I’d behaved like an arsehole... sorry, asshole.
I figured I’d give her a few days to cool off and then we’d be back on track.
Whatever track that was.
I was still riding the desk, desperate to get back on the streets. I knew Kebar was out there, doing his gig, and I missed it, and him. Whatever else, he was never boring. I was getting a cup of the burnt grains that pass for coffee with cops, adding lots of cream to kill the taste, when one of the old guys approached me, these were the beat cops, grizzled, bitter, but the very best if you needed backup, I’d been thinking of Kebar’s sister a lot, something about her really twisted me heart and I was sorry, well, a bit that I’d done such a number but like I’ve said, sometimes it got away from me, and I’d begun buying comics, books, videos, getting a whole care package together, make it look like I was... concerned, I couldn’t believe she had lived, and too, I wanted another look at her.
The guy asked,
“Got a minute?”
For these vets, you betcha.
He said,
“Let’s take it over here.”
We went to an office that was crammed with files, looked like they’d never been opened, he indicated my coffee, said,
“That will rot your guts.”
I put it down on the table, said,
“You don’t use it?”
He laughed, went,
“Gallons of it.”
He took out a pack of Luckies, a battered Zippo, fired up, coughed, said,
“No smoking here, I’m hoping they’ll pension me off.”
He offered the pack and I said,
“Don’t smoke.”
He gave a tiny smile, said,
“Stick around, you will.”
I waited for whatever it was on his mind and he finally said,
“You and Kebar, you were doing pretty good out there.”
I said,
“Just lucky I think.”
Shook his head, said,
“Luck has fuck all to do with it, you get a partnership, they sometimes jell and make us all look good.”
I asked,
“You’re telling me I should go back with him?”