Am I the Killer? - A Luca Mystery - Book 1

by Dan Petrosini

  I tried to follow him but was lost, so I nodded.

  “I’m going to have a special pair of glasses made for you.”

  “Like the ones I wore? I can’t go around like—”

  He held up a hand. “They’ll have a script that will help the focus of your right eye. The left lens will be cloudy. A film will be applied to it that will help correct depth perception.” He pointed to my left eye. “The eye will see certain parts of the spectrum but allow your right eye to determine relative distances. Your left eye will have reduced peripheral capabilities, but I am certain the benefits vastly outweigh the small downside.”

  I totally lost him after the second sentence.

  The glasses took some getting used to, but I had to admit they worked. I gained a new measure of normality, if you can ever be normal walking around with pirate-like glasses. Looks aside, they were a critical step, make that a giant leap, in getting me released to go home.

  Getting back home was made easier by Vinny, who’d left two days before to get things in order. It was a good thing, as nobody had lived in my mom’s house since I went into the service. He’d had the utilities turned on, the place cleaned, and made some modifications that four-eyed Clalia said would make things easier and safer for me. Vinny also had my mom’s old car jump-started and serviced, and he used it to pick me up.

  Riding back to New Jersey in Mom’s car with Vinny brought back a bagful of mixed emotions. I still missed her deeply and really had not forgiven Vinny for taking off and leaving me to take care of her when she was sick. I didn’t have the energy or stream of thoughts to put it into words, but when I tried to gather my thoughts as we rolled up the turnpike, I started crying. When Vinny asked what was going on, I sidestepped it, saying I was happy to be heading home but scared of being on my own and that I missed Mom. He repeated his pledge to stay by my side as long as it took. I was surprised how genuine he sounded, but given his history, large pools of doubt remained.

  The street looked a little familiar, but if you’d asked me, I couldn’t say it was where I grew up. Then we pulled up the driveway, and the house looked different somehow. I scanned the front elevation looking for the reason as Vinny came around to help me out of the car.

  Stepping through the front door, I was hit with the smell of Windex and stale air. I paused, leaning on my cane as I scanned the living room before taking another step.

  “Wasn’t there a giant, you know, one of those Chinese carpets in here that Mom loved?”

  “Yeah, it’s rolled up in the garage. Clalia said to take all the area rugs out. Said they were dangerous. You could trip over them.”

  I nodded and started to cry.

  “What’s with the tears, man? The rug will go back. Don’t worry—”

  “It’s not the rug. I’m, I guess, just, you know, glad to be home.”

  Fact was I was frightened and confused and kept thinking my mom would help me, but then I remembered she wasn’t around anymore.

  Vinny put his arm around my shoulder. “Yeah, man, it sure is good.”

  “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “Me? You kidding me? I didn’t do nothing. It was all you, man. You fought like a bastard. I’m proud of you, bro.”

  I reached for a picture of our mother and started crying again.

  “Come on, let’s eat something. I stocked the fridge with real food, not that hospital crap.”

  We headed to the kitchen, and Vinny cleared a stack of papers five inches high from the counter.

  “What’s that?”

  “Ah, papers, bills, the mail.”

  The reality of life suddenly reappeared to me.

  “Uh, who’s been taken care of things?”

  “Like I told you, I got it handled. Let me worry about the bills. You just get better.”

  “But I could help. I can use my Army pay, and you’ve hardly been working, taking care of me and all.”

  “Look, let’s take one step at a time, okay? I’m gonna be going back to work. FedEx’s got a big place in Eatontown. I’ll get a temporary gig there. You’ll see. It’ll all work out.”

  ***

  Vinny had gone to work, and after thumbing through a pile of magazines that a couple of neighbors had brought over, I went into the kitchen and came upon an envelope that had one of those green certified mail cards on it. It was from the Middletown Township Tax Collector. It said a lien had been put on the house for almost twenty thousand dollars in unpaid taxes. That seemed like a lot of money to me and was way more than my military salary. Not knowing what to do, I put the envelope between my shirt and tee shirt so I’d remember it when I went to bed.

  The next morning, when Vinny got up and came down to eat, I waved the envelope at him.

  “So you found the fucking love note from our friends in town.” He wagged his head. “I went down to see them and all. Told them everything, even though they fucking seemed to know what happened to you. Said they couldn’t do anything. It’s the law, blah, blah, blah. Friggin’ heartless bastards, said to file for a federal grant or some bullshit.”

  This didn’t sound good. “So what’re we gonna do?”

  “Don’t worry.”

  The faint ringing in my ears began to elevate.

  “But can’t we lose Mom’s house? Then where—”

  “I said don’t worry. We’ll get it paid.”

  A mouthful of rusty metal settled in my mouth.

  “How?”

  “Well, remember when we filed those papers a while back when you were in Walter Reed?”

  I nodded, but had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Well, it’s your disability, and they said you’d get it backdated and get a lump sum amount if they approve it.”

  “Is it that much money?”

  “Not exactly, but look, I said I’ll handle it, and I will. I really don’t want to use your money. You need it. But we’ll have to use it until I make up the ground I lost.”

  “When we gonna get the, the, what did you call it, money?”

  “Disability.” Vinny shrugged. “I wish I knew when. I’ve been calling for the last month.”

  ***

  Vinny was yelling into the phone. I rushed down the stairs and fell and scraped my knee. I got up and hobbled into the kitchen as he slammed down the phone.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “You believe this shit? Fucking government morons turned down your disability.”

  “How, how can they?”

  “Some bullshit about it not being a battlefield injury. Like you had a fucking choice being there!”

  “Now what?”

  “I got half a mind to call Fox News and tell him how you’re getting dicked around. They’ll help us, I bet.”

  ***

  I pulled another drawer out and rummaged through it. Where is it, and when the hell is Vinny getting home?

  The front door opened, and I yelled down the stairs, “Vinny! Where’s my blue shirt?”

  “Look in the closet, Petey.”

  “I did. It’s not there. What happened to it?”

  I heard Vinny trudge up the stairs, then he came into my room and said, “What the hell’s going on in here? The place is a mess.”

  “Nothing. Just getting ready for Mary to come over. Where’s my shirt?”

  “Geez, Pete, she ain’t coming till this afternoon.”

  “So? I gotta be ready. Where’s the shirt? The blue one?”

  “I just got home, man. Give me a break, will ya?”

  Vinny stepped over a pile of clothes, reached into the closet, pulled out a blue shirt and said, “Here it is. Now, can I get some sleep?”

  “Not that one, the one with the white collar.”

  “Pete, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but this is a perfectly good shirt, and I’m beat.”

  “But it doesn’t have a white collar, and Mary likes colored shirts with white collars.”

  “Stop being so anal, okay? Look, I’m g
onna take a nap. When I get up, I’ll check around, but at least you got something nice to wear.”

  I finished getting ready, hobbled down the stairs and turned on the TV. I sat down carefully, so my clothes wouldn’t get wrinkled, and flipped through channels until I hit an episode of Gilligan’s Island.

  I’d been up most of the night thinking of what to say to Mary. Man, I missed her. I wanted to get things back to the way they were before I went to Afghanistan. Vinny told me it would take time, and I guess he was right, but geez, I was tired. I started to nod out and spread out on the couch to get comfortable.

  “Petey, time to get up.”

  “Oh man, I must’ve fallen asleep.”

  “That’s okay. You need the rest.”

  “What time is it?”

  “A quarter to one.”

  “Oh no! Mary’s coming at one. Right?”

  “Yeah, but it’s okay. Take it easy.”

  “Why didn’t you get me up earlier?”

  “Hey, I was sleeping too. You forget I work the night shift?”

  “It’s just that I want to be ready.”

  “Look, you’re ready. I picked up the donuts, like you asked.”

  “Did you get raspberry? She loves raspberry.”

  “Yes, boss. I’ll put a pot of coffee on.”

  I grabbed my cane when the doorbell rang and got up from the couch. As Vinny headed for the door, I smoothed my shirt and said, “Let me get it.”

  I opened the door, and there she was. I just froze, staring at her. She looked me up and down, making me nervous.

  “You gonna let me in, Peter?” Mary said, smiling.

  “Oh, sorry. Come in.”

  Why’d she call me Peter? I thought as Mary extended a thin box with a card. She pulled it back when she saw me switch hands on the cane and reach out.

  “It’s okay. I can handle it.”

  Mary said, “I got it.”

  “I can handle it!”

  Mary said, “Take it easy, Peter. It’s no big deal.”

  Vinny came to the rescue at the door, saying, “Hey, Mary. How’s it going?”

  As we headed into the kitchen, I took a couple of deep breaths and forced a smile.

  Vinny pulled out chairs for us and said, “Look, I’ve got some errands to run. So I’ll see you guys later.”

  As soon as Vinny left the room, I said, “Man, did I miss you, Mary. Where’s my kiss?”

  I didn’t like her hesitation, but she got up and pecked my cheek.

  “That’s it? That’s all I get.”

  She slid the box and card over as she sat down. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  I ripped open the card. I was surprised there was nothing personalized on the card and pissed she signed it Mary, not Love Mary, just Mary. I stared at the front of the card for a moment before I tore off the wrapping paper, revealing a box of chocolates.

  “Thanks.”

  “So how are you doing, Peter?”

  Peter again? “I’m doing great. Really, you should have seen me, I was banged up.” I looked at my hands. “Why didn’t you come to see me in the hospital?”

  “I wanted to, but I couldn’t get off work.”

  “But you could’ve come on the weekend.”

  “I’m here now. That’s all that counts.” She reached out and patted my hand.

  My heart jumped, and I clasped her hand in mine. I thought I felt a little pullback, but it passed as I said, “I thought about you all the time, man. You got me through Afghanistan. Without knowing you were waiting for me, I don’t know what I’d have done.”

  “It must have been tough over there. It’s so dangerous.”

  “I don’t know about that. The toughest part was being away from you.” I squeezed her hand.

  Mary coughed. It sounded fake to me, and she pulled her hand from mine to cover her mouth.

  The coffee maker beeped, and she leapt up and poured two cups.

  “I got you some raspberry donuts. They’re right there.” I pointed my cane, nearly hitting her.

  It was all small talk, make that tiny talk, as we had our snack. I didn’t know if it was me, but everything seemed forced. It was like she was a sales lady or something.

  Mary got up and cleared the table. When she sat back down, she looked me in the eye for the first time.

  “So, you’re really doing okay?”

  “Oh yeah, like I said, I was a mess for a while, but now I’m doing great. So they tell me.”

  “That’s good, real good, Peter. I was worried about you.”

  There she goes again with Peter. “I’m gonna be fine, back to my old self. Just got a few things to work on.” I lifted my cane up.

  “Well it’s good to see you.”

  I reached for her hand, but she stood up and said. “Look, I’ve got to go. Getting my hair done.”

  “Oh, come on! You just got here.”

  She mumbled some nonsense, pecked my cheek as I struggled to get up, and said. “Sit, sit. I’ll let myself out.”

  Just like that, she was gone.

  I played the visit over and over in my head until Vinny came back. He told me to keep things in perspective, that it was a first visit after a long time, and things were expected to be awkward. It made sense, and I felt a lot better about it.

  Chapter 6

  We got to the Blue Robin around seven. The place was quiet and stunk of stale beer. It was the first time I’d been in a real bar since I went to boot camp. Vinny said I was limited to one, maybe two beers at most, since I ate fistfuls of pills every day. I insisted we sit at the bar, even though he had to help me onto a tall stool. I didn’t want to hang my cane on the bar where everyone could see it, so I laid it across my lap. The bartender, a kid who looked familiar, then again, everyone looked familiar to me, came over when we settled in.

  Vinny apparently knew him from way back when and introduced me. They guy said he’d heard what happened to me and shook my hand. He thanked me for serving, though it really felt like he forced it.

  “So, what you having to celebrate?”

  “Ah, ah—

  Vinny jumped in and said, “Coupla draft Coors.”

  The bartender pulled on the tap, filled two glasses, and set them on the sticky bar. We clinked glasses, and the bartender, I forgot his name, whooped his approval as we took a draw on the brews.

  I burped as my brother said, “Another milestone.”

  “The burp?”

  He shook his head. “Man, after all the shit I seen come out of you, a burp or even a frigging fart is welcome.”

  We shared a quick laugh as a group barreled through the door, catching Vinny’s attention.

  “Yo, Ricky, what’s up, man?”

  “Oh, shit, Vinny, where you been hiding?”

  “Hanging with my brother.” He put his arm around my shoulder. “You remember Pete?”

  “Sure, man, he’s a fucking hero, man. Pride of Middletown.”

  “Come on, stop it,” I mumbled as the procession shook my hand and pounded my back, telling me how good I looked and how proud they were. I had to admit, it did feel good, even though I knew it was bullshit. I mean, no one, well, hardly anyone, had reached out to me the entire time I’d been back in the States.

  My cane kept clattering to the floor, causing a cascade of arms to compete to get it. Not only was it stickier each time the winner handed it off, but I was getting the feeling they felt they had done me a huge favor.

  Another guy, with a goatee, came in the door and headed over. I couldn’t place his face as he traded hugs with the others and made his way to Vinny and me.

  Vinny pawed his chin. “Looking like a painter, Luke. You remember my brother, Pete?”

  He extended a hand. “Sure, used to go with Mary, right?”

  I shook it quickly. “I, I still do.”

  He cocked his head. “Yeah? I thought she was going with, uh—”

  Vinny jumped in, asking him what he was drinking. I saw Vinny raise a fi
nger up to his lips, and the conversation went into a lull before Vinny jerked it to sports.

  Vinny tried to get me into the sports conversation, but I felt anxious and angry about the Mary comment, and I couldn’t or wouldn’t talk. Vinny easily shot the shit with his friends, but the silent treatment I had no control over was the dead duck in the room. Vinny nudged my arm, but when I didn’t even turn my head and instead asked for another beer, he challenged, “Hey, what do you say to nine ball, five bucks a game? You on?” He tugged my arm.

  Before he realized his mistake, I slid off my stool, and he caught my arm before I hit the ground.

  “Ah, yeah, sure.”

  “Born in the U.S.A.” began to blare out of a beat-up jukebox and kicked off a ringing in my ears, triggering another mental brawl over whether it was the song, Springsteen himself, or the volume that was at fault. I ambled over to the ratty pool table as Vinny pulled balls from the pockets, filling the rack.

  He quickly shifted the rack back and forth, tightening the balls. I leaned against the table and chalked my cue.

  “Hey, we’re supposed to flip for the break, but since tonight is like breaking your cherry, it’s all yours.”

  After hooking my cane on the corner pocket, I held the rail, leaned over, and slowly stroked my stick, feeling eyes boring into my back. I looked up, nearly losing my balance, to stare down those looking at me. I thought a couple of heads turned away, but there was nobody I could pin.

  Returning to position, I tried to concentrate. Breathe in and out, focus. Steady, stop holding. Breathe, man, breathe. Good, good. Okay, steady, stroke, be fluid—

  “You waiting for an invitation, or what?”

  I thrust the stick forward, but the impact only sent the cue ball on a pathetic path into the rack. The balls broke apart but without the force necessary to truly scatter the balls or the hope to pocket one.

  “Maybe you should’ve worn the new glasses, bro.”

  “Yeah, well, after the Captain Hook jokes at the doctor’s last week.”

  Vinny pumped in two chip shots before missing another easy one.

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah, right. Look, I don’t need any charity, man.”