Chasing Shadows

by Jason Richards

  “I'm on my way to see Big Lou,” I said. “I have it on good authority he might be able to help narrow the list even more.”

  “Big Lou, huh?” Burke said.

  “Yep,” I said.

  “Ever have his tiramisu?” Burke said.

  “Not yet. The sign in his restaurant window claims it's the best in the world.” I said.

  “I'm not sure I would go that far,” Burke said, “but it's worth the calories.”

  “I'll keep it in mind,” I said.

  “Let's touch base later.”

  “Yes, captain, my captain.”

  “Smart ass,” Burke said and hung up.

  As I placed my phone back in my pocket, someone grabbed from behind and shoved me into an alley. My body slammed against a dumpster, and I had the wind knocked out of me. I turned, holding my stomach, as Frankie and Jimmy stepped in front of me.

  Frankie made a lazy punch. I turned and his fist went past me. I grabbed his thick mane and jerked his head back as I pushed him to the ground.

  Jimmy stepped toward me and I kicked him in the groin. He yelled and doubled-over in pain. Frankie started to pick himself up from the pavement and I stepped on his neck. He flailed like a fish out of water as I applied a considerable amount of my weight to keep him pinned to the ground. Jimmy lunged and slammed into me with all his weight. It knocked me back into a wall of the alley.

  Jimmy came at me again and I quickly moved my hands to push his bald head downward. I brought my knee up in one swift motion and it connected with his nose. His head snapped back and blood spurted out. As Jimmy reached for his nose to stop the bleeding, I hit him in the side.

  His hands dropped to defend my body blows. I popped him with two rapid punches to the face. Jimmy staggered back and fell over Frankie. But Frankie had already reached out and pulled my right leg out from under me. As I hit the pavement, Frankie got to his feet and stomped on me.

  I felt a rib crack and tried to find air to breathe. My head jerked to the left as Frankie's large and meaty fist connected with my right cheek. Jimmy was up and moving towards us to get in on the fun.

  As Frankie took another swing, I blocked it with my right arm. I brought my left leg up and connected between Frankie's legs. He bent over in pain and I sat up and connected my right fist with his face. As Frankie staggered back, I lunged forward and tackled him. It had the effect of both pinning Frankie against the dumpster and avoiding Jimmy who was reaching for me.

  I pounded Frankie with a combination of left and right hooks. Then Jimmy's left arm wrapped around my neck and he squeezed. I worked to break free, but Frankie pushed himself away from the dumpster. “Okay,” he said.

  Jimmy loosened his grip. I took a deep breath and exhaled. I repeated that several times until I found my normal cadence of breathing.

  “I think we have all had enough,” Frankie said.

  “I don't know,” I said, “I think I'm good for a few more rounds.”

  “Shut up or we’ll really hurt you,” Frankie said.

  “Bring it on.”

  “I think he broke my nose,” Jimmy said, clutching at his honker.

  “Let this be your final warning Patrick,” Frankie said. “Next time we won't stop until you're dead.”

  “Not if I see you coming,” I said. “I let my guard down this time. That's on me. But I don't make the same mistake twice.”

  “You don't understand who you are messing with,” Frankie said. “This is much bigger than the Hurley kid.”

  “Like two murders?” I said.

  Frankie and Jimmy gave each other confused looks.

  “Oh,” I said, “you weren't informed your employer had two guys killed? I guess you're not on the need-to-know list.”

  “That doesn't concern you,” Frankie said. “Our orders are to get you to back off. If you don't, then we are to put you in the ground.”

  “You tell your boss, or the lowlife you report to, that I don't scare off that easily. And it will take more than you two to stop me.”

  “Final warning,” Frankie said. He looked at Jimmy and tilted his head toward the street. The two gingerly exited the alley. Hard to walk away looking tough with a sore crotch.

  CHAPTER 33

  “YOU LOOK LIKE YOU GOT run over by a bus,” Little John said as I entered Big Lou's Italian restaurant.

  “Almost,” I said. “Two guys nearly as big as you jumped me. We sparred in the alley around the corner.”

  “That's why I don't go anywhere without Little John,” Big Lou said as he popped his head around the corner. Big Lou, despite the name, stood all of four feet and ten inches tall. He was on the pudgy side but always dressed sharply in custom-tailored Armani suits.

  Little John was Big Lou's bodyguard. He stood close to six feet and five inches and tipped the scales at three hundred and some change. I had never seen Little John dressed in anything other than black. Today was no different as he wore black jeans and a black tee-shirt from the Big and Tall collection.

  “Do you like to ride around in his pocket?” I said to Big Lou.

  “I'll forget you said that,” Big Lou said. He looked up, way up, at Little John. “Get our friend here cleaned up.”

  “I'm good,” I said.

  “I can't let customers seeing you like that,” Big Lou said.

  I looked around the empty restaurant. “Seriously?” I said.

  “We are between lunch and dinner,” Big Lou said, “but people often stop by for my world-famous tiramisu.”

  I decided not to argue with Big Lou. I followed Little John to the back office where he bandaged my ribs. I washed up in the bathroom sink and returned to the dining room.

  Big Lou was sitting in the booth where he liked to conduct business. I sat opposite him. Little John resumed his post near the front door.

  “Aren't you concerned that Little John will scare away potential customers?” I said.

  “He has a friendly smile. People think he is a big teddy bear.”

  “Unless they mess with his cub?” I said.

  “That another crack about my size?”

  “Only a little,” I said.

  “I don't need to keep helping you out,” Big Lou said.

  “Yet you always take my calls.”

  “Possibly next time I won't.”

  A waitress I hadn't seen before came by and left a basket of bread sticks and two glasses of water. She was a tall and attractive Italian girl in her twenties.

  “Thanks, Francesca,” Big Lou said.

  “New girl?” I said.

  “My niece. Sister's kid. She's going to Emerson. Theater major.”

  “Every actor should learn to wait tables,” I said.

  “Part-time job to help her pay the bills.”

  “She adopted?”

  “No,” Big Lou said. “Why would you ask that?” He paused a beat. “Oh, I get it. Because she's tall?” He slapped his pudgy hand on the table. “Hilarious.”

  I smirked. “I guess it skips a generation.”

  “You're a sizeist,” Big Lou said.

  “That's not a word,” I said.

  “It's like a sexist, or a racist, only against the vertically challenged.”

  “Wow. Learn something new every day.”

  “Be nice to me or I'll have Little John sit on you,” Big Lou said.

  “I'm not sure I could take being sat on by another big man today,” I said. “And isn't that being sizeist against large people?”

  “Whatever,” Big Lou said as he waved his hand around.

  Tony Bennett belted out I Left My Heart in San Francisco from the restaurant's collection of Italian crooners. Little John softly sang the lyrics. It almost made me wish Tom Jones were Italian. I'd pay good money to see Little John sing along to What's New Pussycat?.

  “Tell me about the guys who used you for a punching bag?” Big Lou said.

  “I got some good licks of my own in,” I said.

  “You kick them in the nads?”

&
nbsp; “There are no rules in a street fight,” I said. “But I also landed some good punches.”

  “I'd have expected no less,” Big Lou said.

  “Their names are Frankie and Jimmy. You know them?”

  “Yeah,” Big Lou said. “Thugs for hire. Low-level guys, but they can be formidable. As you just discovered.”

  “Indeed, I did,” I said. “Any idea who may be currently employing Frankie and Jimmy?”

  “Nope,” he said.

  I took a bread stick and bit off the end.

  “Do you know anything about two twin brothers who used to be boxers?” I said.

  Big Lou thought for a moment. He took a bread stick and snapped it in two. Just before he was about to take a bite, he paused. He waved the piece of bread stick in his right hand. “I think they did some work for Eddie Garavito a few years back.”

  “Do you recall their names?” I said.

  “I'm thinking, I'm thinking,” he said as he tapped the bread stick on the table. “Jax and Mikey,” he said after a few beats.

  “Any idea who Jax and Mikey are working for now?” I said.

  As I waited for Big Lou's reply, I noticed Little John's lips moving in sync with Frank Sinatra singing Autumn in New York.

  “No,” Big Lou said. “But there are only a few guys scary enough to handle them. Jax and Mikey are really bad dudes. Mean and crazy.”

  “Mean and crazy are not a good combination,” I said. “Who would be on that shortlist?”

  “Garavito, for one. I'd also include Shamus O'Malley and Jocko Scarpelli on the list.”

  “Shamus?” I said.

  “True Irish mobster,” Big Lou said. “My bet would be on Scarpelli, though. Make more sense for Jax and Mikey to go from Garavito's to Scarpelli's organization.”

  I took another bread stick My mother always told me not to fill up on the bread, but I doubted Big Lou would offer me dinner. So there was nothing to spoil. And the bread sticks had a perfect garlic and butter flavor.

  “Is Jocko Scarpelli making loans to customers at the Snake Pit and students at Boston College?” I said.

  “Definitely at the Snake Pit,” he said. “Jocko has been in the game there for a long time.”

  “How about at Boston College?”

  “Maybe. Everybody's trying to expand since I got out of the biz.”

  “But this restaurant isn't your only business?” I said.

  “I may still have a few side deals,” Big Lou said, “but my loan shark days are behind me. I did, back in the day, control Chestnut Hill.”

  “O'Malley operate out of the Snake Pit?” I said.

  “No,” Big Lou said. “At least he never did. He had an understanding with Scarpelli.”

  “Did you know an accountant named Jack Murphy?”

  “Murphy was very good. Shame what happened to him. Being tossed in a dumpster like that. Where's the dignity in it?”

  “There isn't any,” I said. “Who'd he work for?”

  “Murphy is the type of guy Scarpelli would hire,” he said.

  “Tommy Two Fingers told me word on the street is that Jax and Mikey killed Jack Murphy. But he didn't have their names.”

  “Just a description of twin brothers who once boxed?” Big Lou said.

  I nodded my head.

  “I hadn't heard that,” Big Lou said. “I figured it was something else. The Snake Pit being the Snake Pit.”

  “What they wanted everyone to think,” I said.

  “So that would mean Jocko Scarpelli had Murphy whacked?” Big Lou said. “Why?”

  I told Big Lou about the ledgers and recounted the course of my investigation. When I finished, he sat shaking his head.

  “And Jocko didn't want you getting as close as you were,” Big Lou said, “so he sent Frankie and Jimmy to scare you off. Makes sense.”

  “Yep,” I said.

  “So what's your next move?” Big Lou said.

  “I bring Mr. Scarpelli and his henchmen to justice.”

  “Good luck with that,” Big Lou said. “You’ll need it.”

  CHAPTER 34

  BACK IN MY OFFICE I called Burke and filled him in on what I learned from Tommy Two Fingers and Big Lou. Burke told me he would work on getting a warrant to search Scarpelli's office. The Staties would also bring Jax and Mikey Crane in for questioning on the murders of Jack Murphy and Bradley Whitcomb. Burke felt confident it would all start to unravel for Jocko Scarpelli.

  With my newly acquired knowledge, I would try once again to reason with Aaron Hurley. His side job of collecting money for Jocko Scarpelli would be coming to an end. Burke agreed to leave Aaron out of the charges which would be cascading down. I wanted to impress upon him that it was an opportunity he needed to take full advantage of.

  When I arrived at Aaron's apartment he wasn't home. I went down to the lobby of his building. A young woman was sitting reading a book. She had been there when I arrived.

  It was a small apartment building, with just four units, so I thought the neighbors might know each other. Perhaps not in our increasingly individualized society, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “I'm looking for Aaron Hurley.”

  The young woman looked up from her book. She tried not to notice my bruised face, but I didn't blame her wondering how it got the way it did.

  “Amateur boxer,” I said. “Not my best match.”

  My answer seemed to satisfy her unspoken curiosity. “He left a little while ago with two other guys,” she said. “Maybe they are boxers as well. They were big and had bruised faces similar to yours.” She paused a beat. “Sorry. I guess that didn't come out very nice.”

  “That's okay,” I said. “I'm aware of my bruises. A hazard of the sport. Say, what did the guys look like? If they are local boxers, I probably know them.”

  She wrinkled her nose and said, “One of them had bushy hair and really thick eyebrows. The other guy was bald.”

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “I do know those guys. We go back a long way. Train at the same gym. Did they say where they were going? Maybe I can catch up with them.”

  She shook her head. “No. They didn't say anything. They looked to be in a rush.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Thanks. I'll catch up with them later.”

  Aaron leaving with Frankie and Jimmy in a rush didn't sound like three buddies going out for the afternoon. I called Big Lou.

  “What now?” he said when he answered.

  “Where can I find Frankie and Jimmy?” I said.

  “You want to go looking for them after what they did to you? You better bring reinforcements.”

  “They have the Hurley kid.”

  “Oh,” he said. “That doesn't sound too good for the kid.”

  “No. It's not.”

  Big Lou gave me the name of a dive bar in Hyde Park where he said Frankie and Jimmy were regular patrons. It was as good a place as any to look for them. He also offered the services of Little John. Which I accepted.

  CHAPTER 35

  CALLING THE BAR A DIVE was generous. The odor of cheap beer hit my nose as soon as we entered. The cheap beer I could live with, but I struggled with a foul mystery stink that hit like a second wave as we moved into the room. Little John sniffed and made a sour face.

  “What died in here?” he said. “Let's make this quick.”

  “You know Frankie and Jimmy?” I asked the bartender.

  “Who's asking?” the bartender said as he discarded an empty beer bottle.

  “Heckle and Jeckle,” I said. “Want to guess which one of us is Heckle and which one is Jeckle?”

  The bartender considered me and then Little John. I'm not a small guy, but he lingered on Little John a bit longer. “Haven't seen them today,” he said.

  “They come in every day?” I said.

  “Most days,” he said. “Usually have a few beers. Throw some darts.”

  “Is there a regular time when they come in?”

  He glanced at his wa
tch. “About a half-hour from now. You two want a beer while you wait?”

  “I think we'll wait outside,” I said. “My friend doesn't drink.”

  The bartender shrugged and moved to the other end of the bar. Little John and I exited onto the street and took in a deep breath of fresh air.

  “Why'd you tell him I didn't drink?” Little John said to me. “I like beer.”

  “Did you honestly want to stay inside?”

  “No,” he said. “It reeked in there.”

  We moved to the corner and sat on the bench near a T bus stop. Little John got some looks when passengers exited the bus. After forty-five minutes, Frankie and Jimmy rounded the corner and headed toward the bar. Little John and I got up from the bench and moved in behind them. I grabbed Frankie and twisted his right arm behind his back. Little John grabbed Jimmy's left arm and squeezed. It was enough to keep Jimmy from going anywhere.

  “We need to talk,” I said.

  “Okay, so talk,” Frankie said with a measure of discomfort.

  “What did you do with Aaron Hurley?” I said.

  “Who?” Frankie said.

  “Don't play dumber than you actually are. I understand you paid him a visit in Chestnut Hill earlier. The three of you left his apartment building together. Where did you go? Where is he now?”

  “Might be too many questions for him at one time,” Little John said.

  Frankie looked at Little John. He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and just as quickly he closed it.

  “You're probably right,” I said to Little John. I turned back to face Frankie. “Let's make this simple for you. Where is Aaron Hurley?”

  Frankie glanced over at Jimmy. They were silent.

  “Do you have any idea who you have been working for?” I said.

  Frankie shook his head. “No, man. We would get texts from burner phones with instructions. Someone left money for us at the bar.”

  “That how you were hired to deal with me?”

  “Yeah,” Frankie said.

  “And Aaron Hurley?”

  “Yeah,” Frankie said again.