Deadly Shamrocks: An Irish Tale of Love, Murder and Revenge

by J. B. Reed

  “Joseph, what’s up? You didn’t say much on the phone.”

  “This is something I needed to talk to you about in person, Lucky. We‘ve got big problems with the Westies. One of our guys was supposed to meet an associate to pick up a load of furs shipped over from Russia. When he got there he found it to be an ambush. Three guys from the Westies had already killed our associate and were waiting on our guy. It could have been a blood bath, but something didn’t set right with our guy. He parked his truck a few blocks away from where he was supposed to meet our associate, and walked the rest of the way. When he got to the warehouse, he saw one of the Westies standing out front. Our guy went around to the back and climbed up to the second floor window where he could see inside the warehouse. Our associate was, lying on the ground, his throat slit. The other two Westies were waiting for our guy to show. He got out of there and called me to let me know what was going on. Lucky, not only did they rip us off for the furs, but they killed one our best associates. We can’t let this slide.”

  “Did our guy get a good I.D. of the Westies?”

  “Yeah, he got the license number on the vehicle parked beside the warehouse. I had our friend down at the police station run the number. We have the I.D of at least one of them, and his address. It would be a good bet they are all there.”

  Joseph handed Michael a piece of paper with the address and a police mug shot of the owner of the vehicle.

  “You want me to handle this right away?”

  “I want those stinking cum wads taken care of tonight.”

  Michael got up to leave Joseph’s office, but stopped at the door when Joseph added one more thing.

  “Lucky, one of the guys….we believe it was your old pal, Flannery.”

  Michael felt his body become rigid.

  “Don’t take any chances. You know this guy is still looking for you, right?”

  “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry. Have I ever let you down, Joseph?”

  “Never.”

  Michael left Joseph’s office and headed for his car. Tommy’s face appeared in Michael’s mind. He now had the opportunity he had wanted since Vivie’s attack, and, with Joseph’s blessing. Stopping at his apartment to get the tools he would need for this job. Not knowing how many people he would actually need to take out, he prepared for the worst case scenario. Michael had learned, when it doubt, it’s better to be overly equipped than under equipped. Michael knew he would not be able to drive his T- Bird to the Kitchen. That car would definitely attract attention, and that’s the last thing he wanted tonight. He looked around the parking garage for a vehicle he could borrow for a few hours. Michael had borrowed his neighbors’ vehicles on more than one occasion. He had never had a problem with someone thinking their car had been stolen. Most of Michael’s neighbors were in for the night at this hour anyway. He decided that he would borrow Mr. Truman’s Oldsmobile once again. Michael had used it twice before. It was an unassuming vehicle, but had plenty of horsepower if there was a need for it. Hotwiring vehicles, was a skill Michael had learned at an early age. Firing the Oldsmobile up, he exited the garage and headed for Hell’s Kitchen.

  At 2:00 a.m. the streets of the Kitchen were pretty well vacant, expect for a few bums and an occasional working girl. Michael found the address listed on the piece of paper Joseph had given him. It was an old mechanics garage at the edge of town. A couple of cars were parked out front, and a beat up old truck parked along the side of the garage. He could see lights on inside, from the windows near the top of the building. Michael parked the Oldsmobile two blocks away. He didn’t notice anyone standing outside so he crept up to the garage bay doors, where he listened to see if he could hear anyone inside. There was music playing and he could hear the sounds of at least two men talking. Michael could not make out what they were saying, but it sounded like a party was going on inside. He walked around to the side of the garage. Carefully, he edged his way to a window and peaked inside. Three men were inside, two were setting on a dirty brown sofa and one was seated at a table. Michel recognized one of the men from the mug shot Joseph had given him. One of the men on the sofa was Flannery. Michael saw a door on the other side of the window.

  “This is it. Time to pay your debt, boys.” Michael made his way to the door. Armed with a Glock 17 in one hand and an uzi in the other, Michael kicked open the door, guns blazing. The men inside scattered, rolling on the floor, trying to find something to hide behind while pulling their guns to return fire on Michael. Michael was able to take out the guy in the mug shot with the first round, leaving him lying on the floor, blood oozing from his bullet ridden body. Michael spotted a second man, hiding behind the sofa. Standing behind an old refrigerator, waiting to see what the man behind the sofa was going to do, Michael looked around but didn’t see Flannery anywhere.

  “It’s two against one.” The man behind the sofa yelled out. “You may get one of us but not both.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” Michael replied.

  When Tommy heard Michael’s voice, he knew exactly who he was dealing with. Tommy immediately broke out in a cold sweat. He knew if he didn’t get Michael, Michael would get him.

  “Well, well, if it’s not my old friend Mikey.” Tommy called out from behind an old wooden desk he was crouching behind. “How’s our little friend, Vivie? Does she still dream about me?”

  Tommy hoped his comments would prompt Michael into stepping out into view. Michael didn’t make a sound. Inside, all Michael could think about is seeing the life drain from Tommy’s body.

  “Tommy, you know this guy?” The other man yelled across the room.

  “Sure do. We’re old friends. We were fucking the same whore for a while, till he stole her from me. Guess he wanted her all to himself. Didn’t like it because he knew she liked my big cock more than his.”

  Tommy continued his attempt to provoke Michael into stepping out where he could get a good shot at him.

  “I don’t have time to waste here boys. When you hijacked that shipment of furs and killed that guy, you fucked up. You pissed off the wrong people. Now it’s time to face the consequences.”

  Michael stepped around to the side of the refrigerator. When he did, the man behind the sofa attempted to run across the room, firing his gun in Michael’s direction. Using the uzi, Michael nearly cut the man’s body in half with a hail of bullets. He dropped to the floor, close to where the first man was laying. When Tommy heard the uzi going off, he made a dash for the door that Michael came in. Michael shot at Tommy with his Glock, hitting him in the shoulder. He ran out after him, thinking he would see Tommy on the ground, bleeding, but instead, he saw Tommy tearing out of the parking lot in his car.

  “He can’t get too far, he’s bleeding to bad.” Michael thought to himself as he ran down the street to the Oldsmobile. Michael started the car and headed back into the neighborhood. He didn’t see Tommy’s car anywhere. He drove by Molly O’Hanlon’s but could see no trace of Tommy.

  “Cocksucker. Where are you?” Michael said aloud to himself. He knew he couldn’t leave the job half done. He had to find Tommy and end this, once and for all. Michael spent the rest of the night searching for Tommy. By dawn, with still no sight of him, Michael had to accept the fact that Tommy had gotten away…..for now. Michael drove home and parked the Oldsmobile in its spot. As the door to the elevator opened, Michael was standing face to face with Mr. Truman.

  “Good morning, Mr. O’Bannon.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Truman. You have a good day now.”

  “Made it back just in time.” Michael said to himself as the door to the elevator closed. Michael changed clothes, put his guns away and then left again, to go meet Joseph. He now had to tell Joseph that, not only did he not finish the job, but Flannery, of all fucks, knew he was working for Joseph.

  Tommy had gone to Ryan’s apartment. Bleeding badly, he knew he would have to get the bullet out in order for the bleeding to stop. He couldn’t very well go to the hospital, so he had to depend on Ry
an to help him. When Ryan opened the door, Tommy could see that Ryan was high.

  “Fuck, Tommy…..what the hell happened to ya?” Ryan held the door open for Tommy to come inside.

  “Never mind what happened, get me a towel and a shot of whisky.”

  Ryan grabbed a towel and handed it to Tommy, then placed a glass and a bottle whisky on the table in front of him.

  “I’ve got a bullet in my shoulder and you’re gonna take it out.”

  “I can’t do that Tommy, I’m high, I can’t handle no knife right now.”

  “When are you not high, you stupid fuck? Looks like I have no choice but sit here bleeding until you come down. Give me a couple more towels. You better hope to Christ I don’t bleed to death here in your kitchen.”

  Tommy relayed the story of the night’s events to Ryan. A few hours passed and Ryan finally came down from his high. Tommy handed Ryan his knife and told him to heat the blade over the fire on the stove top.

  “You have to cut in there and get the bullet, Ryan. Do you think you can do that, without killing me?”

  “Sure, Tommy, I can get the bullet out. Do you want a hit of smack before we do this?”

  Yeah, might not be a bad idea.”

  Ryan walked over to the cupboard and removed a bag heroine. He quickly prepared a syringe and handed it to Tommy.

  “What the fuck, Ryan? Do you really think I can shoot myself up with my shoulder like this? I only have one hand for God’s sake.”

  “Sorry, Tommy, I’ll do it.”

  Ryan tied a rubber hose around Tommy’s arm and looked for a vein to insert the syringe. Soon Tommy was feeling no pain.

  “Okay, get the fucking bullet out of me.”

  Ryan held the blade of the knife over the fire until it was glowing. His hand shaking, he walked over and stood beside Tommy. He knew if he didn’t do this right, Tommy could end up bleeding to death. He had never tried to remove a bullet from anyone. As the blade entered his shoulder, Tommy screamed out in agony. Even with the heroine in his system, the pain was almost more than he could bear.

  “I’ve got it Tommy, its out.” Ryan held the bullet up for Tommy to see it.

  “Hurry up and wrap it. Now get some thread and sew me up.

  “All I have is sewing thread, Tommy. You want me to sew you up with sewing thread?”

  “If that’s all you have, then yes, you stupid retard. It has to be sewn up or I’ll keep bleeding. “And make sure you serialize that needle.”

  Ryan stitched the wound and then wrapped it in gauze. He was so shaken by the whole experience; the only thing he wanted to do now was get high again.

  “Call Shane and tell him to roll his crippled ass over here. We have business to talk about.”

  Ryan called Shane and within thirty minutes, he arrived at Ryan’s apartment.

  “Jesus, Tommy, what the fuck happened last night?”

  “I had a little run in with our friend, Michael.”

  “Where did this go down? Is this because of Vivian?”

  “No, stupid, not everything has to do with that whore. Me and a couple of the bosses' guys hijacked a load of furs intended for the wops. We had to kill the guy making the delivery. Seems he was a close personal associate of the wop boss and he sent our friend to settle the score.”

  “Fuck me, you mean that guy, Michael, works for the Italians?” Shane started to get a little nervous, thinking that Michael was working for one of the most powerful gangs in New York.

  “Yes, you dumb fuck, he works for the wops. I knew he was a professional by the job he did on you. I just didn’t know who he was working for before last night. He killed both the guys that helped with the hijacking. I got out, but not before he put that fucking bullet in me. I had to sit here all night, waiting for Ryan to come down before I could trust him to get the bullet out without killing me.”

  Shane looked at Ryan, who by now was high and thought it all quite amusing.

  “Fucking right I got it out. I saved Tommy’s life, I did.” Ryan was bragging on himself, very proud of what he had done.

  “Shut the fuck up, you stupid fuck. You’re just lucky it went as well as it did. If it hadn’t, I would have slit your throat.”

  Ryan walked over and looked out of his window, down onto the street, trying to avoid eye contact with Shane and Tommy.

  “The good thing is, now that we know who this guy works for, we have a better chance of finding him. I’m going to talk to the boss today and see how he wants to handle this. Two of his best guys are dead because of this mechanic. The boss is going to be fucking pissed. Especially when he hears who the guy works for.”

  “Whatever you want us to do, Tommy, just give us the word.”

  I don’t think the boss would want the two of you fucking with this. You’ve both proven yourselves to be total fuck ups. Ryan, I want you to drive me to see the boss. I’ll meet up with you later Shane, at Molly’s.”

  “Okay Tommy. Whatever, you say.”

  Ryan helped Tommy change his clothes and then all three men left Ryan’s apartment.

  Uptown, Michael was sitting across the desk from Joseph, telling him how the hit had gone down. When Joseph heard that Flannery had gotten away, he reacted in a way that Michael had not expected.

  “Christ…talk about the luck of the Irish.” Joseph leaned back in his chair, puffing on his cigar. “This Flannery must have as many lives as a fucking cat. This could go in our favor, Lucky.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You got two of the cocksuckers and Flannery was hit, so I would say, wherever he is, he’s not in great shape. Now, he’ll have to explain to his boss how you were able to take out two of his guys and he didn’t stop you. Won’t go over well with his boss, I guarantee it. If I know these micks, like I think I do, the boss will order Flannery to hunt you down and whack you. From you’ve told me about this idiot, he’s a fuck up. When he comes after you he’s not going to be real inconspicuous. With your skills, Lucky, you should have no trouble finishing the job. I don’t like the idea of them knowing who you’re working for, but that’s something we can’t fix now. The fact remains that they ripped us off and killed our associate. The way I see it, the Westies threw down the gauntlet. If it’s war they want, its war they’re gonna get. There’s plenty to go around for everyone but if the Westies want to be greedy, then so be it. They’ll get what coming to them. Go home Lucky, and wait for my call. Don’t make a move until you hear from me.”

  “Okay, Joseph.”

  When Michael got home, he walked into his bedroom and opened the closet door. Vivie’s clothes were still hanging there, right where she had left them. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed in himself.

  “Of all the fuckers to get away, why did it have to be Flannery. I’ve never left a job half done. I won’t rest until I see the bastard dead.”

  10.

  A TIME TO BE BORN AND A TIME TO DIE

  In the spring, the mountains of West Virginia start to come to life. At times, it was difficult for Vivie to believe she had actually been living in Matewan for six months. When she would go to church or into town, with Mary, people would call her by name, and ask how the baby was doing. They never failed to remind her, if there was anything they could do, all she need do is ask. To avoid questions, Mary and Vivie told everyone she was a widow. She continued to wear her wedding band, mostly as a reminder of her life with Michael.

  Vivie had made several friends in the area. Women, not unlike herself, young married women or young widows. Coal mining was a dangerous profession and many of the young men in Matewan had died in the mines. One of Vivie’s new friends, Lucy Snyder, had an older brother, Luke. He also became one of her closest friends. Luke was charming, in a southern, good ol’ boy, way. In many ways, he reminded Vivie of Michael. He was easy to talk to, a good listener and always considerate. To put it in Lucy’s terms, “Luke was raised right”. From Luke, Vivie learned the dangers of coal mining, the thrill of hunting deer, and how much fun s
imple things, like a walk on a Sunday afternoon, could be. While showing her his gun collection, Luke was astounded that Vivie not only knew what each gun was, but also what kind of ammo it took and how much of a kick it would give when fired. Vivie explained that her late husband was also a gun collector.

  One thing Luke did for Vivie that Michael had refused to do was teach her how to shoot a gun. Luke would set up targets in his backyard and the two spent hours shooting. Vivie became quite the good shot. Luke told her, in his opinion she was as good with a gun as any man he had ever met. Vivie didn’t tell him that at one time she wanted to learn how to track down and kill men. She thought that information was better left a fact he never know. Luke also taught Vivie how to use a bow. Although she, at first, had little trouble pulling back the bow, she soon became as good with the bow as she was with a gun. Her favorite was the crossbow. It wasn’t nearly as hard to handle and it felt more like a firearm than a bow to Vivie. Luke would take Vivie to turkey shoots, a contest where the participants would shoot at targets, sometimes with guns, sometimes with a bow. Vivie

  never failed to bring home her share of blue ribbons and prize money. Vivie never told a soul the secret of her accuracy. She would visualize the target as Tommy, and at other times, Joseph.

  Mary was a little apprehensive about Vivie’s blossoming friendship with Luke. She knew that in her heart, Vivie was still very much in love with Michael. Mary was still unsure what Vivie planned to do, once her baby arrived. While Luke was a great distraction for her daughter, Mary didn’t want to see either of them hurt, emotionally. Luke became a friend to the entire Clancy family, and her concern for him was like that of a son.

  After dinner one night, when the kids were tucked into bed, Mary decided it was time for a heart to heart talk with her daughter.

  “Vivian, I would like to talk to you about Luke.”

  “What about him, Mama?”