Chase to the Encore

by P G Loiselle

  ‘Dear’? I thought. How canned, like from an old-fashioned melodramatic picture show.

  “I’m ok,” he said with a voice hardly audible. “Stunned, I guess. But…ok.” His dreamy smile and forgiving eyes were clear signs he meant it.

  “I heard the window open and had no clue it’d be you two. The only thing I had to protect myself was the chair holding up my fat ass.”

  “Sorry we surprised you,” I said and climbed into the room. “Didn’t want to throw rocks at the window. Or come through the front. Who knows who’s snooping around? We only wanted to see if you were alright.”

  “How sweet of you guys. See if I was alright,” she said, talking in her squeaky, feline voice and then changed her diction and lowered her pitch. “Actually, I’m fine. Michael’s here all the time, totally taking care of me, setting me up with anything I need. But I’m bored out of my skull, cooped up in this nest for days already.”

  “Two days, Amy,” I said. “These mob dudes aren’t backing off. Matter of fact, I saw Stone today. He was at Far Out, and we uh…” I coughed. “Had a little talk.”

  “So that dick-wad wanted you to rat me out, right?” she said, looking up at me.

  “He only wants his money. And he’d leave us alone.”

  “Well, he can kiss that wish goodbye. Oh, he’ll get something alright. What’s coming to him.” Her gentle touch of Stevie’s skin turned into more of a rough scrubbing, but he didn’t complain.

  “Amy, listen. I know what he did with your dad was a frickin’ atrocity, but I got to ask again. Is it worth someone else getting killed, like yourself? The dude even stabbed Carney for Christ sake, his own guy, right before my eyes. Only in the hand, with a lobster fork, but still.”

  “With a lobster fork? Whatever he did, that coward deserved it.”

  “Next time, it could be one of us, and not only in the hand with a fork. Come on. Let’s be sensible. Why not just give back the money and be rid of this mess? Make it anonymous, like it was someone else.”

  “Seriously?” she said, positioning her body towards me. “We went through this already, Luke. If he’s not put away, there’ll be more blood spilled by that maniac. I’d bet my left tit on it.” She erected herself, kneeling, and cupped her hips. “You really think he’d leave us alone?

  “Us?” Stevie said.

  “Yeah, why us?” I asked.

  “Guilty of association,” she said. “His goonies would knock us off, one-by-one, like spearing fish in a tank. And there’s nowhere to run.” Her head shuddered, jiggling her gills along with it. “We need to take him down. Period. Then we might have a chance.”

  Her reaction was understandable. Stone wouldn’t let anyone in the group just go. He’d need to make an example of us, send a message to others who might want to screw him over.

  “You’re right. Absolutely right,” I said, backpedaling. “It’s only that I can’t see any sensible way out of this. I mean, we certainly can’t shoot the guy.”

  “That’s not what I want anyway. We’d be no better than him.” She stood up tall. “I told you ten times already. Justice,” she proclaimed, chopping her right index finger towards me. “No more, no less. We need to help get him nailed by the police for some big-time crime. He’s not a young punk anymore. For the right kind of felony, he could spend the rest of his years behind bars. That’s the kind of justice I’m looking for. And if it costs me my life, so be it.” She softened her posture as well as her tone. “If you’re not with me on this, Luke, that’s perfectly fine. I know the danger we’re in, and it wouldn’t be fair to ask you for such help if your heart isn’t in it.”

  “That’s not it. It’s only that, I couldn’t bear to lose you. Or Stevie. Or any of the gang. It’d crush me.”

  Amy got up from tending to Stevie, wrapped her arms around my mid-section and squeezed tight, almost too tight. She whispered in my ear. “I don’t want to lose you either. You guys are like my only family. Everyone else I love is gone.” She continued to hang on and eventually broke down while still in my embrace. First came the sobs, next came the sniffling, and then came a gush of emotion in the form of a sobbing cry, rolling tears, dripping snot, and runny makeup.

  Stevie raised himself up, and we all hugged. “We’re with you,” he said, also speaking for me for a change.

  Witnessing Amy, the girl with bigger balls than any of us, fall apart like that tore at my heartstrings. “There will be justice,” I said, sounding like Superman. “One way or another. I won’t let you down.”

  We stayed linked up for a while, and at some point, Amy left us. Without a word, she retreated to the bathroom for a good fifteen minutes and whipped herself back into presentation mode. She returned with a glow I’d never seen on her before, as if she’d been reborn.

  “When I started all this, I thought it’d be me alone, taking on the whole frickin’ mob,” Amy said. “Figured I’d end up in a casket, reunited with my parents and grandmother. For even a chance at justice, it’d be worth it. But with you two by my side, and the others in the band too, there’s real hope. Look what we’ve done so far. We have his blood money, we escaped his pussy-ass attempts to capture us several times already, and now we’re in a safe place. On top of that, I have my own detective snooping around in the shadows, gathering evidence. We only need to wait for the right opportunity and strike, however we need to strike. Stone’s a cocky bastard and thinks he’s untouchable. We’ll do more than touch that scumbag. We’ll roast his hide. I swear it. We’ll beat him at his own game. Justice will prevail. But we need to stay together no matter how ugly this might get. If he manages to separate us, he’s won, and we’re all doomed. We need to stay united…period.”

  “There’s no separating us,” I said, feeling both inspired and somewhat regretful that I let myself get roped into this situation. “We’re with you until the end.”

  “Yeah, til the end,” Stevie, the parrot, said.

  As soon as we both said it, I was worried we couldn’t keep the promise. We were entering dangerous territory, and who knows what Stone might attempt to tear us apart. We allowed ourselves a couple of minutes to chat and started in again on the hard topics. We needed to come up with a plan or at least next steps. I still needed to address the picture, which, considering the situation, seemed trivial. If Stevie and Amy are indeed an item, I should be happy for them. Somehow though, I couldn’t find any comfort in that thought. When the cool down got cold, I brought up the meeting with Stone.

  “So, it was wicked strange, right. Besides trying to get me to squawk, he also told me they’ve had their eyes on you for a while, suspected you’d do something. He knew your real name and must have thought you’d try to get revenge. Guess he was almost right. He also had a recording of our lunch conversation at Alias, Smith and Jones, totally disturbing.” I blurted out everything as if it were one long sentence until I got to the subject of the picture. “And um…he gave me this.” My voice tapered off as I produced the photo from my pocket. It was the third time I handed it over to someone that day, hoping to get clarity. Whichever way it went, I didn’t care anymore. I only needed to know.

  Amy took the picture and at first seemed surprised before flashing her pearly whites in a bright smile. “It’s me and Stevie, like kissing cousins. Wow, Stevie, you’re holding onto me like you’re rearing to start bucking. Where the hell’d they get this?”

  “No idea?” I said. “Stevie said you never kissed.”

  “Stevie, you birdbrain. How could you forget? In Boston, after the show, when you came off stage, and I was all excited because you all rocked the place like crazy. I gave you that big smackeroony. Couldn’t help myself. When I backed off, you were standing there, kind of retarded, mouth open, practically drooling. You looked so cute, like a skinny Saint Bernard.”

  “Oh yeah,” Stevie said in a tiny voice as his face pinkened.

  “And Luke, I g
ave you an even deeper kiss that night. I remember thinking that I needed to stop before you blew a nut in your boxers.”

  “How could I forget that? I almost froze up like the Tinman in the rain. But who took that picture, and how in the world did Stone get it?”

  “Beat’s the crap out of me,” Amy said. “But I’m sure that snake has more surprises in store for us and obviously spies everywhere. What about you, Stevie? You a spy?”

  “Me? Why would I be a spy?”

  “Oh, Stevie, I’m only kidding. Man, you’re slow sometimes.”

  “Sometimes?” I said.

  “No, you’re too fast,” Stevie said, retorting. “I like to ponder.”

  “Ok, Mr. Ponderer,” I said. “What now? We’re kind of up Shits Creek without a paddle. Stone’s tailing us all and can afford to play the waiting game. We need to try to live our normal lives and at the same time wage war against the Portuguese godfather. And Miss No-Patience is sitting on a cool million, dying to bag Stone and his goonies in the name of justice.”

  “Shut up with your Miss No-Patience. I’m a girl of action; it’s hard to just sit here knowing that nothing’s happening.”

  “What do you mean nothing’s happening,” I said. “Stone got squat out of me. His chumps are outside of my house thinking I’m home listening to music. And by the way, you have a private eye on the case. Part of your master plan, right?”

  “Master plan? That loser hasn’t delivered jack shit yet and is bleeding my bank account dry. Now, he doesn’t even know where to find me.”

  “Oh no,” I said, looking at my naked wrist. “What time is it? We need to get going. We have a show on Friday, and band rehearsal’s at seven. Also, Stevie’s officially still at work. I have to bring him back to the shop, sneak back into my house and leave by quarter of.”

  “I got it,” Stevie said. “Why don’t we all think about it and come back again.”

  “Great plan, Senor Ponderer. Well, at this point it’s the best one we have, so it’ll have to do,” I said.

  “Really? I’m just stuck here until you decide to come back?”

  “At least, it’s safe,” I said. “You’re the one who said you could lay low for as long as it takes.”

  “I say a lot of things and don’t mean them.”

  “Bet you do,” I said, wondering what all those things were. “Hey, is there any rope here?”

  “Not that I saw and none up my ass either,” Amy said, her crudeness hardly noticeable. “What do you want with rope?”

  “Before you almost killed us, we almost got killed trying to get up here. We need to get down somehow and back up next time.”

  “You can lower that escape ladder down to the ground, you know. That’s what those suckers are for.”

  “Ok, let’s try it,” I said.

  “Hey, when’s next time?” Amy asked, pressing me.

  “Not sure yet,” I said. “Safety’s priority numero uno. I’ll think about it and relay a message through Mike.”

  The ladder made a minor racket as we lowered it, but there was still enough afternoon noise to drown it out. We disposed of the busted wooden ladder, hopped on the motorcycle and sped away to a drop off point behind the wood shop. There were plenty of tractor trailers and other barriers to cloak Stevie’s back door return. I waited in the distance until he was safe in his car and left for home myself. Those wise guys were still out there when I got back and didn’t seem to notice that I was gone for hours. They followed me to the practice pad too and stayed put in their Cadillac. Those chumps must have been even more bored than Amy. At least she doesn’t have to sit in a metal box all day waiting for nothing to happen. She can do that while enjoying all the comforts of home: cable TV, a VHS player and even a microwave oven. I still doubt it’s a consolation for her with all those bees she has in her bottom.

  Besides Mike hounding me about needing to talk, which I put off until tomorrow, the rest of the evening went off without a hitch. One thing’s clear, none of this mob bullshit has shaken our musicianship or broken our beat. Tonight’s practice was stupendous, and I feel balanced and whole again. We’re hoping to blow out the rafters of a local club on Friday night in Woonsocket, Frenchville, and I don’t see anything holding us back. And nothing’s holding me back from my king-size mattress either. It’s 3:00 a.m. and spilling my account of these incredible events onto this spiral bound stationery is finally putting me into sleep mode. Life starts again tomorrow and who knows what sort of intimidation and tomfoolery they’ve concocted for us. Goodnight Moon…

  Tuesday, July 14, 1987

  “I can’t do it much longer, Luke.” Mike paced the closet sized backroom office of the Lincoln Lanes bowling alley, where his cousin is manager.

  “What choice do we have? Leave Amy to die?”

  “You weren’t there,” he said. “A bunch of guys, plus this creepy old man, Stone, I guess, they threatened me. Said they’d bury me so deep that even Indiana Jones couldn’t find my remains.” His head bowed down into his palms.

  I grabbed him by his lanky biceps and shook him. “Relax, buddy. They’re only trying to scare you, throw a net and see what they catch. What’d you tell them?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. That I barely know Amy. That you and I play in a band and that’s about it.”

  I dropped my hands, letting them dangle and sighed. “Great job, P.M. Great job.”

  “But I can’t go on like this. They peed on me. This one fat man held me while this weird, hyper guy took out his penis and urinated, right on my legs, in front of my house.”

  “What’s a little pee? We need you, Mike. They killed Amy’s father, when she was a kid.”

  His mouth and eyes formed a triangle of O’s. “Killed? Like dead?”

  “Please, Mike. It’s a story for another day. I beg you. It won’t be long. I promise. We’ll find another solution.”

  “You better. And fast. Not sure how long I can hold out like this.”

  “You’re awesome, Mike. Fight the good fight. And remember, if we stick together, nobody can beat us.”

  “That’s only fancy talk, Luke. They can not only beat us, they can slaughter us.”

  “Nothing bad’ll happen to you. I promise. We’ve got your back. Trust me, just trust me. Will you?”

  He gaped at me, his eyes still shell-shocked.

  “And hey,” I said. “No one in the warehouse knows about Amy, right?”

  “About Amy?”

  “That she’s staying there. Like the workers, or that nosy secretary, Susie?”

  “Susanne? No. Nobody.”

  “Good. Keep it that way. The more people who know, the more dangerous it is.”

  “Yeah,” he said, agreeing. “The more dangerous it is.”

  That’s how the conversation ended before we both snuck out of the side door of the bowling alley the way we slithered in and parted ways. I understand why he’s nervous, really. But he must stay the course, he must. We need him. And maybe at some point, he’ll need us. And we’ll be there. I promised him.

  Wednesday, July 15, 1987

  It was a typical day at the office except for a constant traffic of coworkers being escorted into Carney’s office. Nobody seemed interested in me, however. For some reason I was spared. I still had to know what was going on, so I intercepted Sally, a middle-aged box of a woman with onion ring curls and a lisp, on the way back to her cube. Instead of coming straight out with it, she dragged me into the copy room and shut the door.

  “Two guys, a big slob and a disturbed troll, PI’s or something, they grilled me about Amy, and some stolen money. Amy took money?”

  “Calm down, Sally. Tell me what happened.”

  “I just did, stupid.”

  “The details, Sally, the details.”

  “I don’t even want to think about it. Gave me the willies.” She bl
inked more than usual and besides chirping away with her kissy fish lips, kept her face static. “Mr. Carney came to get me when it was my turn. I was last to go, and nobody told me nothing. So, Carney brought me there, opened his office door and just shoved me in. That louse stayed in the hall, didn’t even introduce me. The big guy in there, he was the one in charge, the good cop, I guess. Kept asking about Amy, where she was hiding and stuff. The troll constantly got in my face, repeating the same things as the fat fellow. Then they asked about money: money, money, money.” She wiped off the sweat bubbling up on her forehead with a handkerchief. “Luke, I knew nothing.”

  “So, what’d you tell them?”

  “That I knew nothing.” She managed to squint. “Are you not listening?”

  “Sorry, Sally. Well, you did the right thing.”

  “This have anything to do with those ten checks? I saw them on the bank statement. You wrote them.”

  “And gave them to Carney.”

  “What does Amy got to do with that?” she asked. “And where is the poor girl?”

  “No idea. I haven’t seen her since. She just disappeared. Kind of getting worried myself.”

  “Everyone in the office is worried, Luke. She’s such a sweetheart.”

  “Thanks for warning me about those two private dicks.” I said. “Guess I’m next to be questioned.”

  “Just tell them the truth. The truth will set you free,” she said and picked something out of her teeth. “That’s what ma always said. God rest her soul.”

  “I will, Sally. I will.” What a lie, I thought and smirked.

  We nudged open the door and peeped out. The coast was clear, so we tip-toed into the hall and split up.

  It was almost quitting-time, and I was sure I’d be spared by the two ‘investigators’, who I assumed were Babyface and Rodney. And I was. It was Carney who snuck up behind my cubicle instead and had his way with me as I was packing up to leave.