Jimmy and Danny climbed out.
Jimmy reached into the cab and slipped the makeshift collar around the mutt’s neck they had adopted from the back alley of Jimmy’s place, then lifted him down onto the roadside.
Jimmy and Danny waved their thanks at the driver.
The driver waved back and the truck drove off.
They headed for the diner, but before they got there something on a newsstand caught Jimmy’s eye.
He stopped.
The mutt stopped, sat down and looked up at him.
“Did you know about this?” he asked Danny.
“What?” Danny said.
He opened the door to the diner.
Warm air swept over him, along with the smell of onions and fries, and roasted coffee.
“About Montauk blowing up,” Jimmy asked.
“Nope,” Danny said stepping inside.
“Well a hillside outside of town did,” Jimmy said.
He hurried after Danny.
“Really,” Danny said sliding into a booth. He picked up the menu. “Hungry?”
“Just coffee,” Jimmy said.
“Is this as exciting as it gets in Crestone?” he asked looking over at a guy in a black suit sitting at the bar.
“Which is why we are here,” Danny said closing the menu and sitting back.
Jimmy leaned over the table at Danny.
Danny leaned over the table at Jimmy.
“What?” Danny asked, “is it now?”
“There’s a guy at the bar,” Jimmy said.
“What about him?”
“There’s a wire hanging out the back of his collar, and he’s trying to eat raspberry jelly with a fork.”
Jimmy sat back and gave a smug look.
“Right,” Danny said. “There are all kinds of people everywhere, Danny, which is why we will blend in here nicely.”
Jimmy nodded and looked back at the guy at the bar.
The guy’s head turned around like it wasn’t attached to his neck, and smiled at him with great big white teeth.
Jimmy swallowed and leaned over the table to Danny again.
Danny leaned over the table again to Jimmy.
“What now?” Danny asked.
“And he’s wearing big black sunglasses,” Jimmy said.
“And?” Danny asked.
“And so was the truck driver that drove us here, remember?”
“Okay,” Danny said sliding out of the booth.
He grabbed Jimmy’s arm and dragged him to his feet.
Jimmy Junior, the mutt, jumped up, and barked wagging his tail.
“What’re you doing?” Jimmy asked.
Danny grabbed the mutt’s leash.
“It’s time we were gone,” Danny said.
“Gone where?” Jimmy asked following Danny.
“Gone fishing,” Danny said leading Jimmy Junior the mutt out the door. “Come on, boy.”
Jimmy Junior scooted out the door wagging his tail.
“Where?” Jimmy said following Danny.
“The Baca,” Brian said, “Moffat, Rhinestone…”
“There’s a place called Rhinestone?” Jimmy asked.
“… anywhere,” Danny said striding away.
“How about Montauk then?” Jimmy called out catching up to him.
“No!”
NO ANGEL BLUE
An old friend visited when Tommy least expected it. A friend with a long-time-no- see grin on his mug, and not looking as if he was about to leave in a hurry.
"What do you do for fun round here?" Jimmy asked leaning on the windowsill, looking out at the hill. "And how about a beer for an old friend?" he grinned over his shoulder.
"I might have," Tommy said, leaving him there and going to the kitchen.
Beer loaded with prussic acid if I have any left.
"Cold!" Jimmy yelled as Tommy yanked a bottle of Hof out the fridge. He resisted slamming the door.
And after a few bottles himself Tommy began to chill out, the edge taken off his anger.
"So what gives around here?" Jimmy asked slugging back what was left of his beer.
"Oh, nothing much but peace and quiet," he said. "And real friends who don't run off on me. Or who could care less about it when they do."
"Not mad at me?" Jimmy grinned holding out his empty bottle, waving it in front of Tommy.
"Nah, I just hate you," Tommy said.
Jimmy laughed.
"Always the joker," he said.
And no longer the loser, Tommy thought easing himself out of his armchair and going for more of the good stuff.
He stomped into the kitchen, yanked open the fridge and looked at the head on the rack; a souvenir from his new pals. The eyes in the thing had glazed over, bleached into white marbles from a month's worth of pickling.
Tommy screwed up his nose and tested the air.
It was beginning to stink.
He reached in for another couple of bottles then shut the door fast in case Jimmy walked in. He dumped them on the table then went over to the pantry. Taking a key out of his pocket he stuck it in the lock, opened the door and pushed aside the instant noodles, the chips, the coffee, and the moldy Kettle Crisps that had been there for God knows how long.
He knew he had to be fast so he reached into the back and made a grab for the goggles, the gloves, and the heavy rubber apron.
Whispering through his teeth he kept telling himself to be fast, be cool, be steady, and really fuckin quick.
Gloves, apron, goggles on Tommy went over to the counter and opened the bread bin. Brushing away the rat shit he reached inside for the little brown bottle hiding in its little lead box he had stuffed inside a moldy loaf of bread – perfect fit.
He held up the little box and looked at the skull and crossbones he'd drawn on it weeks ago and admired his own artwork – crude but deadly.
He opened the box and took out the little brown medicine bottle and popped the cap with his thumb.
Okay, now for some nuclear revenge.
Tongue between his teeth for concentration he dumped a few grains of the white stuff into shit face's bottle, none in his own.
That hillside must be glowing in the dark by now, tee hee hee.
Then he put everything back where it belonged; dropped the bottle into the box and stuffed the box back into the loaf. When he tore off the goggles the elasticized band nearly ripped off his ear off at the same time.
He slapped his head against the side of his head.
"Fuck!"
When he saw the blood on his hand he nearly threw up.
Don't like seeing my own blood.
Then he couldn't get the lead apron off because he'd tied the knot too tight. He tried ripping the ties apart but that only made the knot tighter still.
He shuffled over to the drawer, pulled it open and made the cutlery he rarely used rattle around setting his teeth on edge.
He grabbed for the biggest knife, the only one he used, (still had some flecks of dried blood on it), then attacked the apron ties with the blade.
"Don't cut off your goolies, man."
He sliced through, slipped off the apron, then throwing everything into the bottom of the pantry and shut the door quick.
His heart hammered with excitement.
He shuffled back along the dingy corridor in his worn out old slippers, toed the living room door wide and stood with a big grin on his mug in the doorway as he held up the two bottles.
Which is fuckin which?
"What took you so long?" Jimmy asked.
Tommy grinned showing big squint yellow teeth and handed Jimmy the loaded bottle.
"I spent three years inside for something I didn't do," he said dropping down in his armchair.
"You were there," Jimmy said as if that meant anything.
"I didn't do anything," Tommy said.
Jimmy shrugged.
"I didn't kill anyone," Tommy said.
"What the hell's your beef, kid?" Jimmy said. "And by the way, this place look
s bad. It could do with some decoration."
He crinkled up his nose and sniffed.
"And it smells like something died in here too."
"You killed her, I didn't," Tommy said. "I didn't even know anyone was gonna be killed."
"I didn't kill anyone was going to be killed," Jimmy said.
He shook his head.
"It wasn't my fault," he said. "If she hadn't insisted on being there then everything would have been fine."
He ran his hand over his face. Closed and opened his eye.
"God," he said, resting back his head, "when I think about it, it makes me so damn…"
"Another guy got it in the neck for it," Tommy said. "Me."
"What do you want me to do?" Jimmy said. "Cry? Get over it. You got out of jail didn't you? They found you weren't the guilty guy after all. So everything was okay in the end."
"How'd you find me anyway?" Tommy asked watching his old pal take a nice big slug of beer.
Jimmy swallowed, grimaced, sniffed and wiped a finger under his nose.
"Ways and means," he said. "I even turned into a courier, of a sort, smuggling stuff, like one of those airline mules you hear them talk about. "It'll be easy," they said. "It's odorless, tasteless. They never guess. There's only one way they would detect it, but they don't have those kinds of detectors at airports. It'll just be like swallowing these tiny little pills, just a couple of them. Open the box, drink with a glass of water, and that's it. That's all it is." So I thought to myself, this is the last job, the last time…"
"That doesn't explain how you found me," Tommy said.
Jimmy leaned back like he was thinking about it, sucked air through his teeth and looked at the damp patch on the ceiling.
"A lot of young guys have been going missing, Tommy" he said. "Once that misdemeanor sticks to you it doesn't let go for the rest of your life, you know that."
"Runaways, Tommy said, "so what? Young guys run away all the time. What's that got to do with anything?"
"I'm talking about guys like us," Jimmy said. "We steal as kids to survive, then we get done for petty theft, for a misdemeanor not even worth writing home about. Now if they had just given us slap on the wrist and warned us not to do it again, then it might have been different. But they didn't, and they still don't. And those criminal records follow us everywhere we go."
Tommy took slug of beer as he listened.
"What are you on about?" he asked.
"A criminal record," Jimmy said, "is like a sticky thread that goes everywhere you go. It sticks to you all through your life from year one to forever. You can't get a decent job. You can't get any money. So you end up either taking up crime for a career or you vanish hoping that you can wriggle free of the spider's web."
He looked over at Tommy.
"Is that what happened to you, Jimmy?" he asked. "You tried to disappear? Or are you still up to stuff. I wouldn't blame you if you were. We all have to survive somehow…
"I keep my head down," Tommy said.
Jimmy grimaced, looked at his bottle of beer and belched.
Tommy smiled.
"You'd be surprised," Jimmy said, "at just how many of those young guys, and not so young guys, vanish from the face of the earth."
Tommy shifted in his seat, took another slug and missed his mouth.
He spluttered.
"But what makes it worse," Jimmy said, "is that no one cares to look for them, unless that is, it's for a big time crimo job they want to pin on a guy, any guy with a record."
Tommy's heart started to hammer against his ribs.
"What are you on about?" he asked.
Jimmy smiled.
"Well, Tommy," he said. "I thought I'd become a Good Samaritan and go looking for those lost guys."
"So you came looking for me?" Tommy laughed, a forced laugh with his eyes too wide.
"Sticky threads on a spider's web, Tommy," Jimmy said, "and a lot of those threads leading right to… well, shit tends to find its own level in the sewer of life, I guess. And, well, maybe you're just a great big magnet for bad pennies, which is why I'm here."
"I'm not interested," Tommy said.
"You don't even know what I'm going to say."
"Whatever it is," Tommy said, "it won't be good."
"But the money's legit this time," Jimmy said.
"I spent three years inside for something I didn't do," Tommy said.
"I mean, man," Jimmy said, "look at this place. What do you do around here for fun? You could have so much more, Tommy, that's all I'm saying. It's a fool proof job."
Same old Jimmy. Always trying to get me into trouble.
But not this time he ain't.
He stood up, stretched my arms and legs, then walked behind his old friend.
"Christ!" Jimmy yelled.
The bottle flew out of his hand. His other shot to back of his head where Tommy had slammed it with the hammer.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he yelled.
"You're taking too long," Tommy said. "That's what I'm doing."
"Too long for what?" Jimmy slurred.
He staggered to his feet and turned around.
"To conk out," Tommy said admiring his nails.
Jimmy stood half-crouched over with a loon look on his face.
He looked at Tommy, then at the blood on his hand when he dragged it away from the back of his head.
"Relax, Tommy said. "I could have used the chisel."
Jimmy staggered towards him, his arms out like a crab with its claws wide.
Tommy just stood there at the other side of the overturned chair and grinned. He stuck his tongue at him.
"Nah, nah nah-nah nah," he said and ended it with a great big wet raspberry that nearly shredded his tongue.
"I'm gonna kill yah!" Jimmy said.
Tommy shrugged and swung the hammer through the air like he was on exercise.
He smiled some more.
He could see Jimmy's legs giving way.
Tommy's eyes rolled up just before he crashed down.
And when Tommy stepped over Jimmy's body he let the hammer slip from my fingers.
There was a satisfying thud as it hit Jimmy in the face.
"Oops!"
Tommy skipped down the hallway a very happy man to raid the cupboard under the stairs.
Reaching in and he yanked out the cuffs and the gag, the rope and the body bag.
God I feel so fuckin good.
He grabbed the old phone on the wall and dialed.
There was a click at the other end.
"I've got a live one," he whispered.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Tommy said. "Interested?"
"Is this one still alive?" the guy asked.
"And wriggling," Tommy said.
There was a sigh at the other end.
"Now that does sound good."
"How long…?" Tommy asked.
There was click at the other end before Tommy could finish.
The dial tone returned.
Tommy yanked the telephone away from his ear.
"Well fuck you too," he said and hung up.
When he went back into the front room Jimmy turned his head painfully to the side, dazed in more ways than one.
"You know," Tommy said dropping the stuff on the deck, "I've found out that there's easier ways to make money. And that there's a lot of folks that will pay a high price for a live one, just like you, still alive and kicking. A premium rate. No kidding."
He looked around.
God what a mess.
There was blood everywhere.
He had hoped that this was going to be a clean one.
Still, this is an unexpected catch.
Jimmy tried to roll over. His face was a mask of red. The whites of his eyes shone out bright in contrast.
It didn't take much to push him back over though.
The toe of Tommy's boot, that was all.
"Steady," Tommy said picking up the cuffs. "I've got a job to d
o. People pay good money for my services these days. Prison officers, jurors, judges, the police, the plain pissed off, the families of victims, those kinds of people. Folks who just love to hate criminal shit like you."
He tilted his head from side to side as he looked down at his groaning old pal.
"But you know what?" he said. "It takes one to catch one. And that's where I come in. I'm a honey pot for guys like you and you just flew right into it."
He leaned over and grinned at Tommy.
"And now you're stuck."
He snapped the cuffs on Jimmy's wrists and closed the ratchets tight.
The damage didn't look too bad, a big graze on the back of Jimmy's head but no holes, none that Tommy had made anyway.
He did think about trying to clean some of the blood off Jimmy's face, but fuck it.
And maybe they'll give me have the head of this stupid fucker too. Now that would be justice.
Once Tommy was in the bag he'd be out of sight and out of mind anyway.
Tommy didn't worry too much about Jimmy being so dazed.
That was more the affect of the drugs than the big bash.
He grabbed Jimmy's ankles, yanked his legs straight, and wound the rope around.
"He's asleep now, can you believe that?" Tommy said to an invisible audience admiring his handiwork.
"But wait until you wake up inside the bag, Jimmy," he said. "Suffocation, real fear, then some more."
It took a few slippery goes but then Jimmy was inside and zipped up tight.
Now all Tommy had to do was relax and look out through the grubby lace curtains, lean on the sill and peer out into the dark night.
And the hill.
Easy money.
Now all Tommy had to do was wait for the van.
#
"Will someone give me a hand over here," the fat gut guy with the handlebar moustache said "It sounds like it's awake."
He picked up the bale hook, walked over to the car and opened the trunk of the car.
It was like a big black worm wriggling around inside.
He grabbed one end of the body bag.
It gave a kick.
"Looks like we've got ourselves a real live one here," the skinny guy laughed.
He had great big teeth.
"It better be," the old lady said.
The big guy with the moustache was Ralf, and he didn't think the kick was funny so he ploughed a fist into the middle of the bag.
Both ends jumped up.
"Hey watch what you're doing," the old judge said. "Don't break it. Leave that for later."
Dying to be Free Page 4
