Small crimes

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 along 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?’

‘I'm sorry, yes, it was.’

‘And you never had any suspects?'

"There was no physical evidence and no witnesses. No, we never had any suspects. You should probably talk with the Bradley police. I'm sure your brother's case is still open. Maybe they've found something over the years.'

'I've talked with everyone involved. You're the only person I haven't talked to yet.'

'I'm sorry, I don't know anything that could help you.'

He was staring straight at me. I could feel his small bloodshot eyes boring into me.

'Billy had taken thirty thousand dollars out of an IRA account the day he was murdered,' he stated.

'Yes, I know.'

'You do?'

'Yeah, I didn't know it at the time I was investigating your brother's murder, but the DA, Phil Coakley, mentioned it to me recently.'

'How come none of you cops bothered to check into something like that?' he asked. 'Nobody knew about Billy's IRA until I settled his estate two years after his murder. How come?'

'Again, I'm sorry. It was sloppy police work on our part. We should have found that out.'

'When did the DA mention my brother's IRA to you?’

‘Yesterday.'

'Why'd he do that? You're not a cop anymore.'

'I guess he wanted to know if I had any ideas about it.'

'Do you?'

I turned to him. 'Scott,' I said, 'that was a long time ago. At least eight or nine years. I really haven't thought much about it. I'm sorry for your loss, but I've had problems of my own.'

'If I'm bothering you I'll leave,' he said.

I didn't say anything.

'So I'm bothering you?' he asked, his expression growing more sullen.

'You're not bothering me. I wish I could help. I just don't know anything.'

He nursed his beer for a moment, his small eyes staring off into the distance. 'Do you have any idea why Billy took out thirty thousand dollars?' he asked.

'Sorry, nothing more than what the DA probably already told you.'

'You know, you've been apologizing a lot to me.'

I turned and stared at him. He tried to meet my stare, but after a while he lowered his eyes. 'I was trying to be understanding,' I said. 'I know it's got to be tough having your brother murdered like that. And Scott, it was worse than brutal. I don't think I ever saw anyone beaten that badly. But to be honest, even though Billy was in my high school class, I never really knew him well. He was just some fat slob druggie that I'd see around town. What Phil told me was he owed thirty thousand in gambling debts.'

"The DA told me he was gambling with a local bookie named Vassey.'

I let out a short laugh. 'Manny is, or at least was, a lot more than just a bookie. Yeah, if Billy owed him and was stubborn about paying, Manny would've sent muscle to collect. But I don't think he'd go as far as to kill any of his customers. Not out of any moral sense. Just because Manny was too smart a businessman for that.'

'Maybe Billy was going to pay Vassey. Maybe someone else found out he had the money.'

He was looking at me as if I were that someone. After all, I had no problem stabbing a DA thirteen times in the face, so why in the world would I have a problem beating a man to death for thirty grand? It shook me up a little inside to realize how easy a sell it was. Somehow I kept myself under control and pretended to give the matter some thought.