by Len Norman
The three gang members were taken to the police station and the Captain lowered his newspaper and said, “Officers, explain yourselves, what are these three sorry sons of a bitches doing here in my station house?”
Victor cleared his throat, “Captain, they’re under arrest for gun possession and one of them had marijuana. The field test confirmed it as positive. They’re gun-toting, drug-holding assholes.”
“Mind your manners, Officer Klemm. You’re well aware of my rule with regard to profanity in my station.”
Victor looked down at the floor, “Sorry.”
Captain Eberhart looked at all three of them. “You fellas affiliated with the Evil Spirits?”
Manny spoke first. “Fucking A! We’re here because your pigs trumped-up charges after stopping us for no good reason.”
Quentin did a quick eye roll. It wasn’t like he and Victor would be surprised at what occurred next. The Captain backhanded Manny so hard all three of them fell down. They toppled like a three-pin spare had just been picked up and the Captain’s hand was the sixteen-pound bowling ball. Manny was down and out for the count.
Big John said, “Please forgive us captain. Manny doesn’t speak for all of us. We were out of line and the officers did what they were supposed to do…protect the citizens from criminals; given the opportunity, I for one plan to cooperate during the booking procedure.”
Captain Eberhart glared at Big John. The Captain knew all about Big John. He said, “Very well, gentlemen, see that you comply with the entire procedure and no tricks!”
They were processed and taken to the county jail. All three of them were streetwise enough to hope that the search would be deemed unlawful. Otherwise, they’d certainly do prison time as any prior felon would expect. Big John had other things on his mind, other obligations.
When Victor and Quentin returned to the station to write their reports and catalog the evidence, the Captain approached them both. “Officers make sure this sticks; Manny and Freddie are small fish but Big John is the real article. His real name is Lawrence Matheson. I just got off the phone with the Feds, and they’re investigating Matheson for murder in several states. It appears your midget, Big John, is a mob hit man; it looks like the little guy is a rising star.”
The next day Big John bonded out and he was given a trial date. Lawrence Matheson was not bothered by his Big John nickname. He actually thought it was funny. He’d been picked on and treated badly during his youth. His grandfather was a Munchkin who played a Lollipop Kid in the Wizard of Oz. His parents worked in various carnivals and his father was a midget wrestler of some fame when Lawrence was born.
He didn’t see himself as a carny worker and wasn’t about to let a thing like size hold him back. He knew that there really were no bad people since the invention of gun powder. His weapon of choice was a pistol, but he had also used a sawed-off shotgun. Lawrence “Big John” Matheson was currently employed with certain factions of the Dixie Mafia, and prior to that he was doing contract killing for East Coast mobs and loving every minute of it. He was considered the best in the business and had earned over a million dollars in various freelance hits.
He joined the Evil Spirits because he was hired to kill one of their members. Had it not been for Reg’s probable cause stop and subsequent arrests, Manny Arvis would be dead by now. Lawrence “Big John” Matheson was forced to wait a little longer before taking care of Manny; he found the very thought pleasurable because of all the waiting. Big John despised the gang; they were uneducated and nothing but a bunch of louts, or so he thought.
Three months later all three of them were set to go to trial. They had public defenders assigned to their cases and if Big John had actually considered showing up at a trial he would have hired quality counsel. Two days before the trial they got together under the guise of getting their collective lies straight for the jury.
Freddie Hamilton and Manny Arvis asked Big John to meet them at a tavern in nearby Franklin. They had a few drinks together and then went for a ride so they could really talk. Freddie and Manny had already agreed to blame as much as they could on Big John, the ride and discussion was only designed to get Big John in their corner.
They were soon in a wooded area and Big John asked them to pull over. He got out of the van in the pretense of getting rid of some beer. When Manny and Freddie did the same, Big John got busy. He pulled out a pistol and shot both in their kneecaps and they fell to the ground.
“Son of a bitch,” Freddie roared. “Have you lost your mind? You’re gonna be one dead fucking midget when the Spirits find out about this shit.”
Big John walked up to Freddie and stuck the pistol in his mouth. “If I want any of your shit, I’ll pull your chain, asshole.” He jerked the trigger and took off half of Freddie’s head. Wet brain matter sprayed the side of the van and Manny began to beg for his sorry life.
“Don’t do this Big John. I’ll do anything you want. Please don’t kill me,” Manny said.
Big John walked up to him. “You cretin! You were dead the day I arrived in Riverside. This is for the Dixie Mob you double crossed.”
Big John was actually towering over Manny who was trying to crawl away and weeping as he did so. Big John held the pistol to the top of Manny’s head and said, “Lights out, shithead.”
The roar of the single pistol shot was earsplitting and Manny Arvis died a coward’s death begging as he did. For Big John, another job was completed. He giggled as he said, “Good work if you can find it.”
He wiped the untraceable gun clean and tossed it next to Manny, then grabbed his go bag with plenty of cash inside. He walked to the car that waited for him. The driver handed him the keys and he opened the trunk and grabbed the five-gallon can of gas. He poured liberal amounts on the newly deceased and lit the matches. As he tossed the matches the flames quickly created the stench. Big John got into the car and they drove away.
******
Jennifer Cook cared deeply for Lawrence and it wasn’t the first time she picked him up at a job site. She was his lover and his driver. They’d been together for years and she liked the way he handled responsibility. It was difficult to find a man that had such attention to detail…such work ethic. They stayed on the freeway and as they drove past Riverside and continued south on the interstate he looked at the Riverside sign next to the exit. “Pass go and collect two hundred dollars. Life sure is good…even when you’re a little guy.”
They continued south for a very long time and eventually stopped in Georgia to collect the final installment of his latest contract kill. The money was sent offshore in a wired account. Lawrence and Jennifer checked into the fanciest hotel in Savannah. There was one on River Street with a VCR. This was customary after a big job was finished. He kept a copy of his favorite video in his go bag.
That night after dinner they watched the movie. He could never get enough of the Wizard of Oz. It helped him to focus his hostility. The way Hollywood took advantage of the Munchkins nearly brought him to tears. For his part he was certain that life was so unfair.
BAAAA MEANS NO!
1981
Frank and Ivan caught the call and Frank later wished they hadn’t. Angus Campbell was complaining about his neighbors again. He had no real friends and his neighbors all wished he’d move. They considered his Scottish brogue fake, although it wasn’t. They also considered him an asshole, which he was.
Frank knocked on the door and Angus let them in. His house was neatly kept and the furniture was nearly new. There were pictures of some prized sheep in every room of the house. The pictures appeared to have been done professionally, and in fact they were, and the frames alone cost a small fortune. The kitchen was recently renovated and there was a nicely crafted oak sign above the breakfast bar. The sign read…Today’s Breakfast is the Sheepherder’s Special: A Cup of Coffee and a Piece of Ewe. Not bad, Frank thought. Not bad at all for a shitkicker. For Ivan’s part he simply thought the sign was misspelled, having no idea what it had to do wit
h being a sheepherder.
Riverside had its fair share of sexual deviants but none of them shared the fame and history of Angus Campbell. The vast majority of Riverside’s population came from Polish and French ancestry. Angus Campbell came to Riverside in a most unusual manner.
Angus was born in Scotland near Glencoe. His parents were third-generation hill farmers and they primarily raised sheep in the highlands. It wasn’t a large farm by American standards but the Campbell’s did quite well and they wanted for nothing. Angus was one of seven children and he literally reared sheep. His proclivities were not unheard of, but the family shunned him regardless.
It was bad enough being a Campbell in that part of Scotland where many still referred to them as the dreaded Campbell’s. It began nearly three hundred years earlier with the Jacobite uprising in 1689 and the Massacre of Glencoe later occurred.
In late January or possibly early February 1692 over one hundred men under Captain Robert Campbell’s command were quartered on MacDonald land in Glencoe. It was tradition to receive them in a welcoming fashion, which is what they did; they even dined together the night before the massacre.
The attack commenced while the MacDonalds slept and thirty-eight men were killed as they tried to flee the valley. Another forty died after their homes were burned. Forty women and children died of exposure. The Campbells were still referred to as dreaded by some, but Angus Campbell was dreaded by his own family.
He was especially fond of Lilly. She was recognized by the Sheep Breeders Association as one of the very best Scotland had to offer. Angus loved Lilly with all his heart. By the time he was eighteen years old his parents had had enough. It was time for Angus to move on.
His father said, “This business with you and Lilly has to stop. Other farmers have taken up a petition; they’re afraid you will soon visit their livestock.”
Angus said, “I’ll always remain true to Lilly. She’s the one for me, Pa.”
“So you say. The only time Lilly is safe is when you’re shagging the others. For the most part your sheep-buggery has become rampant. This isn’t Wales, you know! I happen to frown on that business and so does your mother.”
Angus did his best to stay on the farm but was eventually shipped off to a distant cousin in the United States. The night before his departure his mother said, “I’ll love you always Angus, but you aren’t right in the head, not even a little.” She handed him a gift. “This is something to remember us by when you’re all alone in Riverside.”
He opened the box and there was a container of shortbread, which was his favorite thing in the world next to Lilly. A sweater was wrapped in tissue that his mother knitted herself. She also embroidered words on the front of the sweater…BAAAA MEANS NO.
She looked at her son and said, “Remember Angus, the Americans have laws that protect their sheep. You must stop your evil ways. Your only warmth should come from this sweater.”
Angus wept as he said, “I’ll try my best Ma. Can I say goodbye to Lilly?”
Within a few years Angus was well known by the Riverside Police Department. He was actually banned from pet shops and the local petting zoo.
On this call, Frank noted that Angus was nearly half in the bag, and it wasn’t even suppertime yet. Angus was ranting and raving about the young Latinos that lived next door. Frank always marveled at the irony. He was a cop and his partner was barely literate, and he was being summoned by a sheep-fucking immigrant that thought it best to refer to Mexicans as Latinos. What next?
“Those Latinos are up to no good again. I think they tried to break into my house,” Angus said. “When I walk in the backyard, I can smell the stench of crime on their illegal asses.”
“Hold on there slugger,” Ivan said. “Those Mexicans were here before you were old enough to date sheep. I think you’re out of line.”
“They’re thieves and probably carry knives and guns. I want this investigated. I have friends in high places,” Angus replied.
Frank said, “This ain’t Scotland. There are no highlands anywhere near Riverside, so on the off chance you had friends they’d certainly be in low places.”
Ivan weighed in, “I heard you were wearing one of those kilts when they kicked you out of the petting zoo. Is that right, Angus?”
Angus was getting angrier by the minute. He was positive that two of the Latinos tried to break into his house during the night. It was time to make up stuff. He told Frank, “The younger one had a gun on him and he always carries one, I overheard him saying he’d shoot a cop before he’d go back to jail. I’m afraid of them. I’m even afraid of the mother.”
Ivan heard the word gun and the word shoot and even the word cop. He was slowly piecing danger together. Frank was a little hungover from his last two days off, but he was ready to check the family out. They both went next door. Ivan led the way.
The Ruizs were in their backyard minding their own business when the Riverside cops walked over. All of them were sitting by a charcoal grill and enjoying the fine spring afternoon. The children were playing and they were happy that the oldest was home from college. Jason Ruiz had just graduated from college with a promising career. He had finished in the top five at Harvard Law School and was being recruited by top firms. The bar exams would be a walk in the park for someone like Jason.
“Angus Campbell told us one of you shitheads wants to shoot a cop and it’s probably the one that broke into his house last night. Which one of you troublemakers are looking for gun play?” Ivan asked.
Frank sensed trouble brewing and said, “We have no reason to necessarily believe Mr. Campbell. On the other hand, if it’s true? Perhaps we could ask about weapons? Are there any weapons around here?”
Jason grinned awkwardly. “Of course not.”
What happened next was the impossible.
Angus watched and heard the entire exchange from his back door. He meant to protect the police officers that were paid to safeguard him. He’d heard enough and it was time to end Jason’s burglar, cop-threatening Latino ways. It would teach him to mess with a Scotsman. Angus raised his rifle and took aim.
Fortunately for Jason, Angus really was half in the bag and the shot went wide right. Frank pulled his gun out and ordered Angus to drop the rifle. When Angus didn’t immediately comply, Frank shot him in the shoulder. Ivan fired next and his shot hit Angus Campbell directly between the eyes. His last fleeting thought was of Lilly. If only…
“There you go, Angus. What do you think about that shot? Up your kilt; you sheep-fucking waste of my time,” Ivan said. “Looks like you were just schooled by two of Riverside’s finest and school’s out for you.” Ivan laughed long and hard at his humor. He thought he was just about the funniest cop that ever lived.
Angus Campbell’s body was shipped off to nearby Franklin and he was laid to rest. Not one person grieved for him. A few days later the house that was a shrine to Lilly burned to the ground and the cause of the fire was suspicious in nature. Nobody cared.
Ivan and Frank were cleared of any wrongdoing. They were cited as heroes and the police lodge recognized them with a dinner. At Frank’s request the main entrée was lamb chops.
Jason Ruiz struggled with all the events that took place that fine spring afternoon. He was never the same person after that. He eventually passed his bar exam and ended up working in Chicago where he specialized in patent law. It always bothered him that Ivan seemed pleased that he was able to so easily end another’s life and then brag about it. Jason wondered if there was a huge difference between a sheep fucker and someone like Ivan.
Chess Tournament
1959
Winston Academy had a rich tradition and Harley loved everything the place had to offer. He was sitting in the game room, playing chess with Aaron Thomas. They seemed to have a lot in common, Aaron was bright, and like Harley he was a very good baseball player. He was very smart but was really no match for Harley in a game of chess, or much else for that matter. He liked Harley and thought of him as
a friend. Aaron enjoyed spending time with Harley.
For Harley things were far more complicated. He carried the Five of Clubs in his pocket at all times and couldn’t abide Aaron “the Judas” Thomas. He knew exactly what Aaron wanted to do. He wanted to hurt Harley and probably kill him. No doubt about it, Aaron was one of the REAL people. He was one of only fifty-two.
Aaron and Harley would soon participate in the school chess tournament and Aaron was learning all of the new chess moves his friend taught him.
The tournament began on a Friday after school and was slated to continue through Sunday. They had both won their first three games and advanced to Saturday’s round. They both played well enough to advance to the finals on Sunday.
The final games began after lunch and before long, Harley and Aaron were playing each other for the championship. Harley could have easily defeated Aaron but this was just another chance to appear inferior, which Harley knew he certainly was not. In fact, he believed he was superior to everyone. He eventually gave Aaron the chance to win and Aaron was the new champion chess player. Everyone congratulated him, including Harley.
Later that night, they walked behind one of the dormitories, and Harley took the Five of Clubs out of his pocket and handed it to Aaron.
“Why are you giving me this?” Aaron asked.
“It’s the Five of Clubs,” Harley said. “This is your card.”
“What are you talking about?”
Harley looked at Aaron and said, “CHECKMATE!”
He took a jackknife out of his pocket and drove it through Aaron’s eye, killing him instantly. He dragged his body to the stream and found a log on the water’s edge. He impaled Aaron’s eye on a thick branch that jutted from the heavy log. It looked pretty good to Harley; the way he staged Aaron’s body. He even made sure the Five of Clubs was in the pocket of the shirt Aaron was wearing.
