Powder

by Leopold Borstinski

  Now he couldn’t be sure it was Mary Lou but his ears pricked up at the news nonetheless. If she was still alive, she needed to die. A call to Roach was on the cards although he’d issued that decree once before and Roach had not delivered the goods. This in itself was unusual which was why Charlie assumed Mary Lou was already dead. If Roach had found her, she’d have been dead and he would have collected his fee. You could always rely on Roach.

  Charlie’s thoughts returned to the news at hand and he flicked through images in his head of potential culprits. The candidates were many and varied, so he couldn’t narrow down the suspect list enough to send Roach out to obtain recompense. Or anyone else for that matter.

  Someone would need to go out there and find out what was going on. Although he didn’t want to do so, he knew he’d have to wait until after tomorrow as no good Catholic would want to miss Easter Mass. The problem would take a few days to resolve. In the meantime, he’d place a few calls to see if there was any more information out there.

  Of one thing he was certain: someone was going to die for this and there was no way Charlie would accept any loss of territory despite this intrusion into his world.

  23

  “Did you tell anyone you’d make another attempt to find me?”

  “Oh no. You were one of my freelance contracts. I keep them very separate. My New York boss is aware how I fill my spare time, but never asks me about my outside business. And I’d never tell him.”

  “Good.”

  “I didn’t do it for you, but for me. If you compartmentalize, you get to lead parallel lives without any wires getting crossed.”

  “I understand that. I’ve spent most of the last two years trying to keep my past life clear of my current world. It’s worked most of the time.”

  Roach checked outside again: the corpse had moved about one foot since he cast his eyes in the same direction. His thoughts drifted from his day job to his successful search for Mary Lou.

  “You should still take care of yourself.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Two years ago. They offered me a contract on you, which I passed.”

  Roach revealed no tell as he lied so gracefully.

  “Why? You’d have got paid twice.”

  “Sure, but if anyone found out then my reputation’d been in ruins. A week after I terminated Frank Lagotti Senior, you should have paid me or I should have killed you. Neither happened.”

  Mary Lou stopped to think from Roach’s perspective. He was right: her departure and disappearance did nothing for his commercial status.

  “Did you hear who picked up my contract?”

  “Not at all. No-one ever does. These things are always kept secret. Means if they want to whack you, you’ll never know when it’s coming or who will deliver it.”

  “Life’s tough.”

  Arnold looked at her, deciding whether Mary Lou was being sarcastic, but concluded she was playing things straight.

  “Do you think there’s a chance the contract holder has found me?”

  “What? Because of the mess in your pool?”

  “Yes.”

  “I doubt it. A hit is clean. If they’d caught up with you, you’d be dead. Unless the contract turned into some revenge shtick, but you’re old news. No offense.”

  “None taken. I want to be old news. Gone and forgotten: that’s me. Or at least I was until you appeared at the door.”

  “I am known for my tenacity.”

  “And will you be telling your New York pals about me on your return?”

  “No. Like I said, I compartmentalize.”

  “And would you have taken the contract if I hadn’t hired you beforehand?”

  “Of course. And you’d have died a week before you ran away from me.”

  “Was that when you first found me?”

  “Yep. I decided to wait and settle into the Vancouver lifestyle as I wanted a vacation and you were my excuse. When I’m on mob business, I don’t hang around.”

  Roach kept his gray hair short because he was of an age when men’s hair didn’t pass their ears, even though the new decade had ushered in a world of change since he was a boy.

  Between the end of the ’60s and today, moon landings had gone from being the most exciting event in the history of mankind to a boring TV experience, needing to be bolstered by scenes of astronauts playing golf. Women were robbing banks and running gangs. His own father would never have believed such things were possible.

  “And are all Baninno hitmen as tenacious as you?”

  “I must say no, but you’d expect me to say that.”

  “True. I just want to know if anyone is still after me.”

  “To be honest, someone holds the paper on you, but the chances are that you could spend decades before they’ll be stood next to you in line for the cinema or as you walk across the street. Then you’ll look into their eyes for a half second and think nothing more of them. Meanwhile, a minute later, they’ll put a slug in the back of your head. Bam!”

  “Something to look forward to in my old age.”

  “Yep.”

  Beat.

  All during the conversation with Roach, Mary Lou tried to get some sense of the man and the extent to which what he said married up to what was true. She believed him over the contract. The reason she’d hired him in the first place was because of his fantastic reputation: as a hitman but also for his discretion.

  No-one ever knew if he’d been the guy to off a gang member and that made him special. The younger members of his profession would go to a bar and take bragging rights to get inside a girl’s panties or to impress his peers. Not Arnold Roach. He didn’t hit and tell.

  His comments reinforced her belief that whoever had stolen her children from here was not east coast related. The New York mob might have had a hand in it, but he was right: if they wanted to kill her, they would have done just that and no more. There was no extra money in it for them and no pleasure either.

  If he was playing a double-cross on her, he was doing a very good job. She’d shown him where her stash of greens was hidden and he sat down and lit a cigarette. A guy who’s being paid to whack you points a gun barrel at your forehead within seconds of that and blows your brains out. He doesn’t kidnap your children and pop round for a chat. And Roach hadn’t come across as the psychotic type.

  “I need your help.”

  “Who d'you want to kill?”

  “It’s not a murder.”

  Beat.

  “The body in the pool?”

  “Kinda. She was my housekeeper.”

  “Hard to keep good help nowadays.”

  “Funny man. It’s my babies.”

  “And?”

  “Will you get them back for me?”

  “HAVE YOU ANY IDEA WHO’S taken them?”

  “Nope.”

  “Is there anyone who might wish you harm?”

  “Several - and most of my enemies became so today. Those that survived.”

  Mary Lou’s words hung in the air for a second as Roach processed the implications.

  “Yes, I can help you although I spend more time killing than saving lives. You understand that, right?”

  “I do but you are one of the few people I trust at this point.”

  He nodded but remained silent. This was her show and she needed to run it.

  “So what next?”

  “We need to figure out who took them and then we go get them back.”

  “Who is top of your list?”

  “That’s my problem. I can’t see how the guys I messed with this morning had time to do this by the end of lunch.”

  “You’d be amazed how quickly well-motivated people will act.”

  “What should we do first?”

  “People who kidnap want something and the best way for them to get it is to ask. So you need to stay near the phone.”

  “Sit here and do nothing, you mean?”

  “Waiting is doing something. There
are moments to run and minutes to sit. You must bide your time.”

  “And what will you do? Sit next to me and watch me listen for the ringing of the phone?”

  “No. I thought I might hit the streets and see what I can find out.”

  “You don’t even know where to begin.”

  “On the contrary. Most of the connected guys in this town have been my customers at some point or other. I’ll be fine. You must promise me to stay put. The lives of your children may depend on it.”

  “I get it. Don’t worry.”

  “I’ll call you every hour to find out if you’ve heard anything. So just because the phone rings...”

  “... doesn’t mean it’s bad news. I understand - and thank you.”

  Mary Lou wrote her number on a small piece of paper and passed it into Arnold’s palm. He stood up and left the house. She remained seated in the summerhouse trying to figure out how she would do nothing and not lose her mind.

  Cindy couldn’t remain face down in the pool forever and Mary Lou knew she couldn’t call the cops. As the boys in blue weren’t swarming towards the house at the minute, she needed to find some trustworthy people to sort out the mess. Pasquale was her best hope and Fabio had the right contacts.

  His voice was clear on the line although she thought she might’ve heard a small click before Fabio spoke.

  “I need a cleaner.”

  “Is extensive work required?”

  “Yes. At my home.”

  “I’ll send someone over shortly. I don’t want any information right now but you need to tell me what has occurred. Why not pop over now and by the time you return, everything will be sorted out.”

  “No can do, I’m afraid. Related to the matter in hand, I need to stay by my phone.”

  “Expecting an important call?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see.”

  The phone went dead and Mary Lou wondered if she had given away too much or too little information. She’d find out soon enough. Into her walk-in wardrobe and she chose a couple of revolvers and a shotgun. She pushed the pistols into her waistband - round the back - and left the rifle near her feet. Any unexpected visitors would catch a hail of bullets. No questions asked.

  Mary Lou picked herself up and headed into the house to position herself by the phone, but also to have a line of sight both front and rear. She propped the conservatory doors open. By sitting on one corner of the couch, she could turn her head one way to view the swimming pool and turn it the other to see her driveway. A hand rested by the phone and the other nestled between her thighs. It had nowhere else to go.

  The abject feeling of powerlessness permeated every pore of her skin and crept into each organ. Mary Lou felt the emptiness of her breath as she exhaled and let tears fall from her cheeks as the possibility of what might happen to Alice and Frank Jr seeped through her consciousness.

  Who hated her so much, they’d be prepared to harm two innocent children?

  24

  Ten minutes later and a knock on the door. Mary Lou had watched the guy walk up the drive holding a tool bag in his left hand. Fabio must have sent him. In case she was wrong, Mary Lou grabbed a pistol and hid it behind her back before she opened the front door.

  “Cleaner.”

  “Come in.”

  As soon as she could, Mary Lou shut the door behind the guy and replaced the gun in her waistband.

  “You were quick.”

  “Told it was an emergency.”

  “Like there’s no tomorrow.”

  “I’d better get to work then. Where to?”

  She led him through the house until they stood by the far side of the pool. He looked around and dipped his fingers into the water. Removed them and sniffed his fingertips.

  “How you want me to deal with the body?”

  “Huh?”

  “Was it a loved one?”

  “No, but show her some respect. At least until you’ve driven her away.”

  “Understood. I’ll bring in some materials from my truck.”

  Hands in pockets, the fella padded out the house and returned five minutes later with a roll of black plastic.

  “Need a hand?”

  “Best if you leave me to get on with it. I’ll call you once the body’s out the way.”

  “Okay.”

  Mary Lou slipped back into the house unsure what to do next. She returned to the couch and tried not to listen out to the noises confronting her ears from outside. She didn’t even know the guy’s name. And the thought of what he would end up doing to Cindy churned her stomach, which was already tied in knots with the kids.

  She sat by the phone and tried to empty her mind but no can do. Images of Alice and Frank Jr permeated her eyes until she got a headache. Mary Lou popped upstairs to her bathroom cabinet to grab herself some meds to take the pain away. The irony wasn’t lost on Mary Lou that Milton had driven off with enough powder to keep her nullified from life until the day she died.

  The phone failed to ring. Mary Lou’s fingers tapped on her knee until the rhythm annoyed her too much. She couldn’t think straight with the scraping sounds coming from the pool. Cindy deserved better than this. Her kids needed much better than whatever was happening to them. And here she sat on her ass waiting for a call from the kidnappers or from Roach. Then the phone rang.

  “Yes?”

  “Any news?”

  “Nothing. Fabio sent round his cleaner though.”

  “That’s something, I suppose.”

  “Anything your end?”

  “Nope. I’ve spoken to a few guys, but no leads yet, although it’s early days.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  “I know. I’m doing the best I can.”

  “Sure, but sometimes your best isn’t enough, is it?”

  “No. It’s not.”

  “Call me in another hour and hopefully one of us will have some news.”

  “Sure thing.”

  The line went dead and Mary Lou wondered if Frank Jr was still alive. A shiver ran down her spine and she realized she shouldn’t let those kinds of thoughts enter her head. No good would come of it.

  “I’m gonna need some help to refill the pool.”

  Mary Lou didn’t know how long the cleaner had been standing there.

  “You catch my conversation?”

  “I’m not paid to listen. Just to clean.”

  She nodded and walked back to the pool. The water was still pink but there was no sign of Cindy. Like she had never been there at all. Mary Lou showed him where the taps were and they watched as the liquid drained away. Then the guy used the steps to reach the floor and applied bleach to every surface he could see. Once done, he hosed down the tiles and Mary Lou helped him fill the pool again.

  “I’d better take all her possessions - unless you’re planning on filing a missing persons?”

  “Hadn’t decided. What you think?”

  “You want the cops hanging round here for days asking questions you don’t want to answer?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then you better show me her room.”

  Another twenty minutes and the cleaner was done. Mary Lou remained near the phone as though her proximity would increase the chances of her receiving a call.

  “I’m outta here.”

  “Thanks. What do I owe you?”

  “Owe? Nothing. It’s all taken care of. Including sales tax and tip.”

  He chuckled.

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Good. What you don’t know won’t kill you.”

  He tipped his hat and walked out the house, never to be seen again.

  MARY LOU SAT ON HER own until the silence became unbearable and the beating of her heart invaded her brain. The ticking of a clock engulfed the living room and the movie in her head took another turn into an even darker place. Children’s limbs and splatters of blood ran through her visual cortex and she screamed, but no-one was there to listen. No-one ca
me to wrap their arms around her to make the pain go away. She was alone.

  Mary Lou remained where she sat for a lifetime and then the phone erupted. She grabbed the receiver and listened the voice at the other end.

  “Has the cleaner been?”

  “And gone.”

  “Any word?”

  “Nada.”

  “Just a waiting game.”

  “Sure, I know.”

  Beat.

  “But when we find the kids: whoever did this - I want them dead. No questions asked. I don’t care who it is or if you’re in business with them. Even if it’s your mother. She’s getting her throat cut all the same.”

  “Yep.”

  “There’ll be money in it for anyone who can give me the name of who it is and more for the person who kills those fuckers.”

  “Sure.”

  “I mean it, Fabio. These are my kids, you know?”

  “We understand your anger. Honestly. But we also know we have people on the street hunting for your two children and they will find them as soon as they are able - and not a moment before. Until that second, the most you can do is nothing. Sit and wait. It might not be what you want, but it is what you need to do, anyway.”

  “Feel so helpless.”

  “You are being strong for your bambinos. When the time is right, you will act - I am certain of that.”

  “Sure will.”

  “We understand you have acquired a little unofficial help along the way. Are you certain you can trust him?”

  “Of course. I can trust Roach with my life because he hasn’t killed me. He is the one man I know feels no ill will toward me. If he did, I’d be floating in the pool by now.”

  “Not the best testimonial but it’ll have to do. I’ve heard friends say much worse things about each other.”

  “And we’re not friends.”

  “Not at all. ”But he’s working very hard on your behalf. That’s a good worker you’ve found.”

  “He found me.”

  “You’re past was bound to catch up with you eventually. The fact he took so long is the miracle, not that he arrived at your doorstep today.”