“Get in,” he said, and we all did. “And now let’s get the hell out of here,” he grunted, and was soon peeling away from the curb and making good time for the good ol’ homestead.
8
If Odelia and Chase had stuck around for just a little while longer, they would have discovered that all of their precautions hadn’t been in vain. For the moment they were out of sight, two men appeared in the window above the bakery across the street from Thormond Linoski’s gem emporium. One of the men was heavyset and suffered the misfortune of having to go through life without the benefit of a neck, while his partner in crime was a small, scrawny type with the face of a ferret.
“Dammit,” said the ferrety one, whose name was Jerry Vale, and had been in and out of jail so many times the episodes had blurred in his mind. “I knew we should have grabbed that thing when we had the chance.”
“But how, Jer?” asked the no-neck one, who answered to the name Johnny Carew. “How could we grab the thing?”
“Simple. You could have knocked that guy’s block off, and then we could have grabbed the stone.”
“But you said he probably kept it in the vault.”
“Then you could have told him to take it out of the vault, or else.”
“Or else what, Jer? You said no violence. And besides, we’re on the straight and narrow now, and people on the straight and narrow don’t go and knock other people’s blocks off.”
“Mh,” said Jer, who looked as if he hadn’t exactly figured this one out himself yet.
“Besides, now we know that Odelia has it, things are a lot simpler.”
“Simpler?” Jerry whipped his head around to look at his associate so fast it cricked—he did have a neck, and right now it hurt from having sat there in their small apartment, keeping an eye on the comings and goings across the street. “Simpler? It’s just become a lot more complicated!”
“But don’t you see, Jer?” said his friend, holding up two hands the size of coal shovels. “Now we can simply walk up to Odelia and tell her nicely to hand over the stone. Easy peasy!”
“Nothing doing,” Jerry grunted irritably. He rubbed his painful neck. It was bad enough that they’d lost the damn stone, but they were forced to stay in an apartment the size of a broom closet, and sleep on a mattress that was so worn out his back was killing him. “I know Odelia Poole, Johnny. The moment she got hold of that rock she’s never letting go again. No, we can kiss that precious Pink Lady goodbye. It’s gone. And you and me missed the chance of a lifetime.”
“Don’t be so glum, Jer,” said his friend, placing one of those coal shovels on Jerry’s shoulder and squeezing. “You know what we should do? We should talk to Marge. Marge likes us. In fact she likes us so much there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for us.”
“Says you.”
“No, but it’s true. Remember how nice she was when she offered us that job at the library?”
“Mh.”
“I say we go over there right now and have a nice chat with her. We’ll simply explain the situation and I’m sure she’ll do the right thing.”
“Mh.”
If Jerry didn’t sound convinced, it was because he had a much more dour outlook on life than Johnny, who was one of those rare people who always saw the good in others, unlike Jerry, who always saw the worst.
“My neck hurts,” he lamented, “and so does my back. I’m going to the pharmacy.” He then wagged a finger in his friend’s face. “You stay here, you hear me? You’ve messed up once, I don’t need you to mess up again.”
“Sure, Jer,” said Johnny as he allowed his large body to drop down on the crooked and aged old couch and flicked on the small TV set in the corner of the room. “Whatever you say.”
[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]
In spite of the fact that he’d promised his friend to stay put, Johnny soon felt a compelling need to break that promise and head out of the apartment he shared with his partner in crime—or uncrime, ever since they’d reformed. A large body like the one he carried through life needs to be fed at regular intervals, and this was what posed the problem. He’d been watching the adventures of the men and women on Passion Island, one of those reality shows that seemed to be all the rage, when he felt his stomach loudly protest. So he went in search of food. Only when he opened the cupboard, there was very little that would satisfy a big guy like him: apart from a stack of sardine cans and an empty bag of Wonder Bread, only empty space was to be found. The fridge was even worse: apart from the remnants of last night’s pizza, which he ate, and two cold beers, which he drank, the thing was empty.
So Johnny decided there was only one thing to do: he needed to do some shopping. Jerry could thank him later. And he’d only just stepped out of the apartment when he came upon a handsome-looking man with a very snazzy coiffure, who pressed a flyer into his hands and said, “Read this, my friend. It will open your eyes.” Since his eyes were already open, Johnny didn’t know how to respond to this. The otherman jumped into the breach by adding, “We’ve all been lied to, my friend. And it’s time that we learned the truth.”
“The truth?” asked Johnny. His mama had always taught him to speak the truth, so this proposition appealed to him greatly.
“Just read the information on the flyer,” the man suggested. “It’s all there. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”
These words were imminently familiar to Johnny, as he’d heard them being used in the many, many trials he’d participated in over the course of a long and industrious criminal career. The man reminded him of something, and for a moment he couldn’t put his finger on it. But then finally he got it. “Are you a brother, brother?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. His weeks spent as a Jehovah’s Witness were still fresh in his mind. It had been a period in his life fraught with frustration, but also with a keen sense of kinship with the other men and women who had gone door to door to spread the word of the Lord to the world, only to have the door thrown in their faces almost each and every time.
“Yes, I am, brother,” said the man, placing a brotherly hand on Johnny’s broad shoulder.
“I lost faith, brother,” Johnny confessed. “I knocked on so many doors, and no one would answer. So I finally stopped knocking.” Also there was the fact that he and Jerry had been arrested while out proselytizing. It hadn’t gone down well with their congregation, unfortunately. He didn’t think he should mention that minor detail to this man, in whom he now recognized a kindred spirit.
“Come to the meeting tonight, brother,” said the man, as he held out a hand.
Johnny shook it warmly. Somehow he felt this was fate. When at his lowest ebb, along came this savior, and he, for one, was adamant to grab onto this life raft with both hands.
“What’s your name, brother?” he asked finally.
“Fido Siniawski,” said the other man.
“I’m Johnny,” said Johnny. “Is it all right if I bring a friend?”
“Brother,” said Fido, “you can bring all the friends you want. The more the merrier.”
And so it was with a spring in his step that Johnny Carew headed to the General Store. A spring in his step and a small stack of flyers in his pocket, to hand out to anyone who would listen. Now all he needed was his trusty bible and a crisp white shirt and nice tie and he was back in business, baby!
9
We’d finally arrived home, the precious stone still safe in Odelia’s purse and no carjackers or purse-snatchers or other scum of the earth having waylaid us or even having showed their ugly faces, and frankly I heaved a sigh of relief.
“Now I think I know what those money transporters must feel like,” said Dooley, who had experienced the same unabated tension from the moment that diamond had been placed in our possession to the moment we finally arrived home. “It’s very stressful, don’t you think, Max?”