Dirty Deeds

by Armand Rosamilia

“I fell down in the shower,” I said.

  “I had no idea showers had large fists.”

  “Can I help you, Reggie? I’m trying to get on a flight for home,” I said.

  “Tell Marisa to call in a new one. I need to go somewhere private and talk with you for a few minutes.” Keane held up a manila envelope in his hand. “This might take us awhile.”

  I doubted it. I knew whatever was in the envelope was just the start of our meeting, and the frying pan to the face was going to be a focus point. I didn’t think it prudent to bring up the bruise on his face, though.

  Keane led me through the inner workings of the airport, past security which looked like they’d been expecting him. I got an uneasy feeling, waiting to be arrested at any moment.

  “Hey, Reggie, I’m sorry about the frying pan,” I said lamely.

  Keane grunted but kept walking. We ended up in front of a door and Keane opened it and stepped inside.

  I followed – what choice did I have at this point? – ready to be thrown to the ground and handcuffed. Instead, it was a small room with only two chairs and an overhead light.

  “Have a seat,” Reggie said.

  I did as I was told.

  “Don’t you want to offer me a soda or a smoke before you interrogate me?” I asked. I was annoyed I’d miss my flight. I just wanted to get home after the last few days, arrive in Atlanta and get something to eat before an early bedtime. I guess it was too much to ask.

  Keane tapped on the envelope but didn’t open it.

  “I heard you’ve been a busy man,” Keane said. “There’s a dead body in a loft in Manhattan. Your blood on the carpet in the hall. Sightings of you with Chenzo’s goons and a clandestine meeting of the man in the basement of one of his front restaurants. Yet. . . here you are. Alive and kicking. It makes a guy wonder.”

  I leaned forward and smiled through cracked lips and chipped teeth.

  “Funny, but I could say the same about you. Stomping around in FBI headquarters with so many of your fellow agents tied into Chenzo and bad dealings. Yet. . . here you are. Alive and making me miss a flight.”

  “I put in my notice,” Keane said and held my gaze.

  I had nothing to say, seriously in shock.

  Keane sighed. “I threw everyone under the bus and some of them went down for it. But not all. There are too many agents on the take, and it extends too high up the food chain for me to do any long-lasting good. I knew it was time to get out or they’d force me out. Honestly, I don’t know if I can trust anyone right now. I’ve been put on administrative leave until I retire. I took my pension and gold watch and a shoe box full of memories already.”

  “This is a setup, right?” There was no way Keane would quit the FBI, unless I’d mistaken him for a different guy all these years.

  He shook his head. “I’m done. I’ll need to find something else to do.”

  “Then why are we here? Is this one last attempt to get a full confession from me? Get me to clear your conscience about a few things over the years?” I asked.

  He unclasped the envelope.

  “This is my one last thing to do for myself. I know I’ll never get you to admit whatever it is you really do with these children, but I somehow know it was never as bad as I thought. Especially with what I know now,” Keane said and handed it over.

  I reluctantly opened it, expecting to find images of me doing horrible things or something I’d have to explain before he arrested me.

  Inside the envelope was a sheet of paper and when I pulled it out and stared at it, nothing made much sense. I finally looked up at Keane and furrowed my eyebrows.

  “The DNA test came back for the body washed up on the beach in Mass. I was able to intercept it before it became official or anyone else in the FBI saw it,” Keane said.

  “Any chance you stop being cryptic and tell me what I’m supposed to see?”

  Keane pointed down towards the bottom.

  “The body found is one hundred percent the real Will Black. Chenzo’s son is dead.”

  “Then who did I meet in the basement of a restaurant?” I asked.

  Keane shook his head.

  I pulled out my phone and dialed Marisa. While it rang I looked at Keane. “You got plans for this evening?”

  Keane shook his head.

  “Hello?” Marisa was on the line.

  “My traveling plans have been changed. I’ll need two tickets to Montreal for today. Right now, if possible. Keane. Yeah, he stopped me as usual. We need to go visit Frank Black again and sort something out. Thanks,” I said and disconnected the line.

  “I hope you’ll pay for my plane ticket. I’m broke,” Keane said.

  “Gotcha covered. Food as well, I guess.”

  * * * * *

  By the time we landed in Montreal and picked up the rental car, Keane was annoying me to no end. While he was retiring in days, he was still on the job and wouldn’t let up.

  I’d stopped trying to convince him to keep the information about Will Black in the envelope until we talked to the parents. Going public with it to his bosses or to the media would only complicate things.

  Like my life.

  Chenzo had Little Chenzo back and all was fine in the world of The Family mob boss. He was allowing me to live and praising me for a job well-done. He was now inadvertently protecting me from anyone who wished to do me harm except Harry. He’d put the word on the street I was under his umbrella, and I have to admit it felt good. It allowed me to breathe easier for a few minutes.

  Keane wanted to arrest the imposter and figure out who he really was, but I needed him to catch his breath and relax for a second.

  “I’m not sure why we’re even in Canada. No matter what the parents say, he’s not who he says he is,” Keane said.

  I began driving and refrained from turning the radio on and drowning Reggie out.

  “When I met with Frank Black he was all too quick to tell me it wasn’t his kid. Without any real prodding. I should’ve seen there was something not right. He’d been paid off and the wife was also in on it. They’re horrible people,” I said.

  “I can arrest them as part of the conspiracy,” Keane said.

  “Seriously. . . I need you to stop talking.”

  “I have a job to do, James. These people are lying. Someone is impersonating Chenzo’s son. I need to pull everyone in for questioning.” Keane pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll need to contact a friend in the Canadian government so we can cut through all the political red tape. I’ll need to arrest the Black husband and wife and extradite them back to the U.S. for questioning.”

  I grabbed the phone from his hand and stuck it in the side pocket of my car door. I really wanted to throw it and Keane out the window but didn’t want to bother.

  “What are you doing?” Keane asked, incredulous.

  “I’m saving your butt and mine.” I picked up speed as I drove. I wanted this over and done with so I could get rid of Keane. “If you shine a light on any of this, you’ll get us both killed. What do you think Chenzo will do to the guy when he knows it really isn’t his son? When you slap the biggest crime boss in the face to let him know his own kid grew up across the river panhandling and on drugs while Chenzo thought he was dead and out of mind all those years? Chenzo will torture me until I’m dead. Then revive me and kill me again. And again.”

  Keane didn’t say anything but I could tell he was formulating an argument in his head.

  “What do you think he’ll do to you? He’ll burn your life down around you. Ex-wives? Dead. Friends and family? Dead. He’ll take Marisa from me, too. I’m responsible for her.”

  I wanted it to sink in and hoped for the best.

  When we arrived at the Black residence I saw the lights were all out and there were no curtains or blinds on the windows.

  “I don’t like this,” I said. We walked up and I knocked. When no one answered right away I looked through the front window. The house was empty. They’d bolted in the middle of t
he night or they were buried somewhere. Either way it didn’t look good for finding them.

  Keane shook his head. “I’m going to ask a neighbor what happened.”

  “Knock yourself out. I’m going to get back in the car and warm up. I’m also getting hungry. Hurry up. I’m done with these people,” I said.

  As Keane walked to the next house over I called Marisa and told her what we were doing and what we’d found.

  “I’ll try to research the couple. Maybe they were reported missing? You might want to ask your new best friend Chenzo, too,” Marisa said.

  “Not funny.”

  “Oh, but it is. You’ve received an invitation to go to one of his big charity balls this Friday night. Make sure you trade in the jean shorts for a tux. This is fancy. You’re moving up in society. Maybe now you’ll date. I can see you all cleaned up and on the arms of a wealthy Park Avenue cougar,” Marisa said.

  I didn’t want to be anywhere near Chenzo, especially if Keane was going to blab and ruin us. I also knew I needed to go. “Obviously let Chenzo know he can expect me.”

  “Obviously.”

  There was an awkward pause in the conversation. I watched Keane as he talked with the neighbors.

  “Boss. . . I’m really sorry. As soon as you get home I want to talk to you,” Marisa said.

  “Yes. I’d like that, too. Where are you now?”

  “In Atlanta. I was going to surprise you and pick you up at the airport and buy you dinner. I figured a delicious cheeseburger at Varsity would distract you enough I could really apologize,” Marisa said.

  “A greasy cheeseburger does sound good.” I sighed. “I think I need to eat better. I got my butt handed to me by a guy twenty years younger. I’m always tired and out of breath. I think I’m doing this all wrong, and the last week or so has proven how out of shape I really am.”

  “I’ll clean out your fridge and cabinets. We’re going low carb healthy,” Marisa said.

  “Don’t get rid of anything I like.”

  “You like all of it and it’s all bad for you, especially the candy.”

  “No. Keep some of the M&M’s,” I said.

  “It’s all going away. Trust me. You’ll thank me for this help.”

  “I’m already mad at you,” I said.

  “You can stay mad but be healthy. I think it’s a fair trade,” Marisa said.

  “How about I forgive you now and you don’t find the stash of Snickers bars near my recliner?”

  Keane returned just as I was done pleading my case about eating the way I liked and Marisa forgetting the stupid thing I’d said about being healthy and living past fifty.

  “The Black family sold the house. They gave all their furniture away. Had a massive party for the neighbors, who never really liked the couple, but free food and drink made them tolerable. I’m talking a block party of massive proportions,” Keane said.

  “They sold the house and blew it on a party?”

  Keane shook his head. “They bought a Winnebago. Top of the line. Frank was bragging about paying for it in cash. He said a big family inheritance had come in. They were going to travel the world. I guess he thinks they can drive the Winnebago to Europe.”

  “Chenzo paid them off. To go away. Thanks for raising his kid all those years. Now they needed to disappear so he could bond with his kid who wasn’t really his kid, and the Blacks know it. They got their hush money and what they always wanted: the money is more important than their dead son.”

  “You know I need to arrest them,” Keane said.

  “I wish you’d reconsider. Let this play out for a bit. See what Chenzo really does, and let us get somewhere safe or beyond the line of fire. I’m going to beg you if I have to,” I said. “Please sleep on it.”

  We got back into the car for the drive back to the airport.

  “I took your advice, by the way,” Keane said.

  “What advice?”

  “I took up painting again. I think I’ll spend some time in the Florida Keys and do some painting and fishing for awhile. Spend the few bucks I have on supplies and sleep on the beach,” Keane said.

  “You don’t strike me as a beach bum.”

  Keane shrugged and stared out the window.

  TWENTY-TWO

  When Chenzo invited you to a star-studded gala in Manhattan, you went. I didn’t want to be here but I really had no choice. It was amazing to see so many movies stars, sports greats and politicians, all rubbing elbows while standing next to a man who had ordered so many deaths over the years.

  Power draws people like flies, I guess. It’s all out of fear, which is why I was here. I’d finally gotten on his good side and had no intention of being on the other ever again.

  I drooled at the spread of foods on the buffet tables, knowing this was going to be a true test. I’d been watching my diet and sworn off junk food and soda. I was eating a lot of filling meat and hadn’t had pasta or rice in weeks.

  “Don’t even look over there,” Marisa said.

  We’d sorted out our stuff and she’d worked overtime to get everything back on track, and she’d made sure I stuck to my diet and was eating better.

  “I’m still mad at you,” I said.

  She laughed. “No, you’re not. You got over it. You’ll never get over the bags of M&M’s I destroyed, though. I thought your garbage disposal was going to give out.”

  “Now I really do hate you,” I said.

  She patted me on the arm. “I’ll go and fix you a nice plate of salad.”

  “By salad you mean the chocolate chips next to the cake?”

  Marisa wouldn’t even dignify my response with her own, walking away.

  I noticed every guy in the place glancing at her. She was a beauty, and the tight red dress she’d insisted on wearing was only getting more looks. I wondered what had happened to the guy she was dating and made a mental note to start asking more personal questions and not just be the boss all the time. Marisa was a good kid and she was entering her twenties with a good head on her shoulders. She was independent and took care of me like I was her annoying dad, which I guess I was by default. We joked all the time but never had a serious conversation unless it was about a job. Maybe she was as lonely as I was? I needed to be her friend and not just her boss.

  A waiter offered me a glass of champagne but I declined. I’d sworn off the booze for awhile, too. Not like I had a drinking problem, but I needed to cleanse my temple of toxins.

  Marisa’s words, not mine. Obviously.

  I’d taken a walk this morning. Not a long one, just around the block of the hotel we were staying at. I figured while we were in town for this big bash thrown by Chenzo I might as well keep on my schedule of a few days. I didn’t want to tell Marisa, but I was already feeling better. I had more energy and I actually got up out of bed instead of rolling off the side. Even if it was all mental and in my head, it was working.

  I felt more alive. I realized each day was ruled by my eating habits. I went through a normal day watching the clock so I could eat a huge breakfast and then figure out how long until a really bad lunch and then off to dinner and then late night snack. Between each meal I also snacked. I had a massive sweet tooth that added to the tire I was carrying around my midsection and it wasn’t going to magically disappear.

  Harry had easily kicked me around, too. I knew I’d never be in shape to take out a guy twenty years younger, but I could at least hold my own for awhile. If I’d been able to fight back Chenzo’s goons would’ve inadvertently saved my butt.

  I was going to lay low for a few weeks and hope another job didn’t come in until I was ready again. I was trying to figure out how to get involved in a martial arts class or maybe kickboxing or something physical other than standing on a treadmill at a gym.

  Heck, I could buy a gym or add one to one of my houses.

  I made a mental note – which I would forget as usual – to contact a personal trainer when I got back to Atlanta. I’d stay in the ATL until the next sp
orts card show and try to enjoy life. Maybe I’d date? Stranger things had happened.

  I saw Will Black, or the guy impersonating Will who now went by Chenzo Junior, making the rounds in the crowd. He’d cleaned up nicely, with his thousand dollar suit and new haircut.

  The transformation wasn’t complete yet, though. His teeth were still messed up a bit and he looked too skinny, but I knew his new daddy was going to fix everything physically about him and try to fix his insides.

  “Ahh, Mister Gaffney, so good to see you again,” Chenzo Junior said when he finally got to where I was standing. He’d seen me a few minutes ago but thought he was being slick by taking his time. Tonight I had all the time in the world.

  “Will. . . I mean Chenzo. . . I mean?” I frowned and put a finger to my lips. “I wonder who you really are.”

  I got straight to the point and I could see I stunned him, which was the intent. I knew I didn’t have much time in this crowded room to get my point across, and I needed to nail him and see what his reaction was.

  He wasn’t too happy.

  “Is there a problem?” he finally asked.

  “Just an observation from my perspective. I’m just wondering what the game is for you. The end game,” I said.

  He seemed to relax a bit and shrugged, looking around the room.

  “I do what I have to do. Life is one big hustle, right? We’ve both made my father very happy,” he said.

  “Who are you? I know the real Will Black, the real son of Chenzo, is in a morgue or buried by now. His father and mother, the Blacks, are currently touring Canada with pockets stuffed with cash. It’s all very convenient for you, no?”

  It was obvious Keane had kept his mouth shut since we’d been to Montreal and back. I had no idea what his ultimate move was but I had the feeling it wasn’t going to be rocking the boat before he retired. He’d done as much as he needed to do to clear his conscience. Opening the can of worms that was this guy wasn’t going to make life easier.

  “Things happen for a reason,” he said quietly and looked like he wanted nothing more than to run away and join the in-crowd.

  “Were you friends with the real Will Black?” I asked.