Bomber's Law

by George V. Higgins

  “He was very methodical. He started with the non-smoking tiers, the first-tier level next to the big window, at the end furthest away from me. To my right. I’m down near the end, at the left, down where the two betting windows are. And he’s of course still outside now. And what he did was search that whole section for someone he thought he might recognize. Such as, for example, me. Didn’t find me, of course, because I’m up with the addicts in Smoking, but that didn’t faze him. When he came to the end of the first tier he raised his head, just like it was mounted on a typewriter carriage and he was starting a new paragraph or something, began working his way along until he came to where I was. Give him credit: for an amateur who most likely doesn’t get to do much of this kind of work, not that much call for it outside of jobs like mine, he’s pretty smooth. When he spotted me he didn’t let his eyes linger. Just a little hesitation, barely noticeable, and then he went right on.

  “That was just about the time that the waitress showed up to my seat, working her own way along the inside something like Joey was, from the outside, and asked me if I’d like something to drink or some lunch. Well, I told her that since I’d already sampled the delicious coffee that they serve to innocent bystanders there, I’d like to have tea. And a pastrami sandwich. She was a nice kid, year or so out of high school, maybe, and …”

  “ ‘She wasn’t built bad at all,’ ” Gayle said with elegant weariness, “so you were just checking her out some. I know, already, all right? I understand you look at girls. Well, better’n the other thing, I guess, so long as you don’t do anything more. So, if I happen to be around when you decide you’ve got to reassure yourself that you’ve still got that world-famous charm, well, since I don’t have much choice in the matter I’ll sit through the performances. But spare me the reruns, okay?”

  “Cheesh,” he said, “all I was was just saying—”

  “I know what you were just saying,” she said. “All I’m saying is saying: ‘Don’t say it. I already know the routine.’ ”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Well, when I looked outside again, clubhouse’s starting to fill up gradually by now—wasn’t really cold today, not for this time of year, sun out and everything, but just the same, didn’t look like that many people were that interested in all that pure fresh air and so forth—he was gone. The next time I saw him was when he came down the stairway behind me, stopped at my row, and took the seat right at the end.”

  She laughed. “Is this a normal thing to have happen when you’re following someone?” she said. “ ‘Now do you really mean to tell us, Miss Muffet, that this spider you were following came up on you from behind and sat down right on the tuffet beside you? Does this sort of thing happen often? And does it happen to others, do you think? Or is it in fact quite unusual, perhaps even confined just to you, because you’d been leading him on?’ ”

  “If it is normal,” he said, “I must not’ve had any of the normal experiences so far, until today. And that includes even ever having run into an older investigator who ever had it happen to him and then mentioned it to me.”

  “Well,” she said, “tell me, since you’ve hooked me now: What did this remarkable fellow do next? Did he introduce himself formally?”

  “Not exactly,” Dell’Appa said. “He said: ‘Can’t figure it out. You sure don’t look Irish to me.’ ”

  10

  “I’ll bite,” Dell’Appa said. “Why? You supposed to be, to get in here or something? Only Irish can come to this track? ’Cause if so, what’re you doing here?”

  “No,” Mossi said, “I didn’t mean nothin’ like that. It’s just that I know you gotta be some kinda cop, and most of the cops I know around here, that’s what most of them always are.” His normal conversational voice had a black-velvet texture that a neon-Elvis could have used for singing ballads.

  “Irish,” Dell’Appa said.

  “Yeah,” Mossi said. “So, well, you know, I was curious and all. I’m out there by the rail, after I see you inside there, you know?”

  “Yeah,” Dell’Appa said. “I saw you out there, seein’ me inside here.”

  “And I go out there, I’m wonderin’, naturally,” Mossi said, “ ‘who’s this new guy I got now? This new guy they got on me now?’ ’Cause, this guy that I know, that I see down inna front part, the lobby, there, you’re comin’ out of the head? He’s been around a lot—he’s been around here a lot, too. And he never saw you before. Didn’t know who you are. Recognize you. So he can’t help me out here. So, there I am. I am out there, all right? I’m standin’ out there on a nice sunny day, not too cold—it’s nice, you know? And I start thinkin’: ‘Hey, what’s goin’ on here? What’m I doin’, out here like this, pullin’ my dick over this guy? Because pretty soon now, you know, it’s gonna be winter, snow and it’s cold, stuff like that. Won’t wanna be out at the fence then, not when that’s starting to happen. So, nice day like this, right? What am I worryin’, who this guy probably is? He’s prolly a nice-enough guy, nothin’ to worry about. No, what I should do here, the first thing I do, I should see if he left, he’s still here. And if he didn’t, I’ll go up and ask him. What harm can that do, I do that? It’s not like he’s got ferrets with him, he’ll put weasels down in my pants, here.’ So that’s what I do. I turn around, look: Here you are.”

  “I saw you,” Dell’Appa said. “I saw you when you were doin’ it.”

  “Well, I know that, all right?” Mossi said. “I seen you see me, looking for you, and I spot you. An’ then Judy comes up, you start talkin’ to her, and so that’s when I come back inside.”

  “ ‘Judy,’ ” Dell’Appa said. “I don’t know who Judy is.”

  “The waitress, there,” Mossi said. “The kid you order your lunch from. Or whatever you talk about with her.”

  “Oh,” Dell’Appa said, “Judy’s the waitress. Okay, I see then. Glad we’ve got that settled and all.”

  “What?” Mossi said, frowning. “What is it here, we got settled?”

  “Well,” Dell’Appa said, “how the fates brought us together.”

  “Oh,” Mossi said. He grinned. “She’s a nice-lookin’ kid, am I right?”

  “Who?” Dell’Appa said. “We still talkin’ about Judy here?”

  “Yeah,” Mossi said, “Judy. The kid you was talkin’ to there, just before I come in. She’s really a nice-lookin’ kid. Also a very nice ass. I dunno if you notice that. Prolly you do. Very nice ass on that kid. But also a just plain nice kid, you know what I mean, what I’m sayin’ here?”

  “Well, that’s good to know,” Dell’Appa said. “Now if she can just get back here with my lunch before it’s time to order dinner, that’ll be even more welcome news.”

  “Yeah,” Mossi said. He sounded sad. He put his elbows on the countertop and clasped his hands together, making a cushion of his forearms to receive his chin, which he lowered onto it. He was silent. He reflected.

  “Oh,” Dell’Appa said, “so I guess I’m supposed to take it she must be, that she’s a friend of yours. Friend of the family or something. Okay, if the food’s cold and she forgets the tea, like it looks like, it’s gonna be, I’ll overlook it, all right? I won’t say anything mean to her, all right? And: I’ll still tip her heavy, okay?”

  Mossi grimaced. He grunted. Without raising his head he said: “Not that. I just know her, is all. I don’t care what you do, what happens between you and her.”

  “Not what?” Dell’Appa said. “I must’ve fallen behind in the reading or something. I don’t think I know where we are anymore. What page it is that we’re on now.”

  Mossi sat up straight. He had smooth olive skin that seemed never to have been creased by worry or sadness. The third tooth back on the left from the front of his upper jaw was either a completely-artificial canine implant or a major filling; it had been fabricated of a dull-silver metal that resembled lead but could not have been: lead would have poisoned him. Old mercury then, maybe, the color, but it could not have been mercury either; mercury woul
d not have held its shape. Whatever it was, from where Dell’Appa sat it was the inert centerpiece of an expression of habitual mourning on Mossi’s face each time he opened his mouth to speak. Steel, perhaps; maybe the gray slashing tooth was surgical steel.

  “She’s,” Mossi said, thousand-yard-gazing out the window-wall, “she’s going with this kid I know down Pawtucket. I doubt you’d even know him.”

  “He got a name?” Dell’Appa said, smiling. “You never can tell—I just might.” The waitress named Judy emerged from the ramp with a tray that appeared to have his lunch on it and turned to her left, toward his seat.

  Mossi sat up fast. He grinned. “You know,” he said, “you just might.” He reared back in the chair, squinted, and appraised Dell’Appa. “So whadda you now, thirty-five, thirty-six about? Somewhere in there? Yeah, that’d be about right. And that’d make ya, lemme think now, year or two younger’n him.” The waitress looked up at the two of them and smiled brightly as she started up the stairs. “And most likely married by now, you too, right? Still livin’, the first wife and all?”

  “Oh yeah, she’s still livin’,” Dell’Appa said.

  The waitress entered the third row in front of them and smiled at Mossi. “Hi, Joe,” she said. She reached over the front rail of the counter and put a paper plate with a napkin under it in front of Dell’Appa. “Your pastrami sandwich,” she said, taking a plastic-covered cardboard cup with a Lipton teabag on top of it from the tray and placing that to the right of the sandwich. “And your check, sir,” she said, putting a bill in front of Dell’Appa. “That’ll be four-eighty-one, please.”

  Dell’Appa moved in his seat to reach his wallet. “Judy,” Mossi said, “been a while since I run into you here, see you and everything, you know? Everything’s going good for you?”

  She nodded happily enough, her expression suggesting things had been at least good enough so that she hadn’t given much thought to them. “Uh-huh,” she said. Dell’Appa gave her a five-dollar bill and a single. She began to fumble in her uniform-skirt pocket for change. “I been drawing a lot of nights lately, helping Gineen with the baby and stuff.”

  “That’s okay,” Dell’Appa said. “No change.”

  “Timmy’s still good and everything, right?” Mossi said.

  To Dell’Appa she said prettily, dimpling: “Thank you,” and then as she turned to Mossi she hardened her face like an old pro. “Timmy’s still fine, Joe, perfectly fine. The last that I saw of him, at least; week, maybe ten days ago. They finally decided: they’re namin’ the baby for him, you know that? Like Gineen wanted to, all along. Ever since she found out she was pregnant, in fact, she wanted to name it for him. It was him that didn’t want to, but last week he finally gave in.”

  “Well,” Mossi said, “but that doesn’t mean, it’s not like you’re sayin’, you’re not worried about him or somethin’, are you?”

  She sighed. She shook her head. “No, Joe,” she said, “I’m not worried about him. I’m not worried about him at all. When he’s around, and I got a night free, we go out and we have a good time. And when he’s not around, or he is but I’m booked, then we don’t, and that’s just fine with us.”

  “Because if you was worried or something,” Mossi said, “I’d introduce you here to my old friend, who’s a cop, and he could maybe help you out some. Except I still don’t know what his name is. His first wife’s still alive, but that’s all.”

  She looked at Dell’Appa and chuckled. “Is that true?” she said. “You’re a cop?”

  “Yeah,” he said, “I’m a cop.”

  “And you’re friends with him,” she said, nodding toward Mossi, “this guy here? You two’re friends, like he says?”

  Dell’Appa extended his right hand. “Sure,” he said, “if he wants it that way. It’s just sort of too soon yet, to tell. Though so far it seems like we’re doing all right. My name’s Harry Dell’Appa.”

  She shook. “Judy Comiskey,” she said, “pleased to meet you.”

  “What rank’re you, Harry Dell’Appa?” Mossi said. “You must have a rank. All cops’ve got ranks, they got to have ranks. It’s part of their names, I think sometimes.”

  “Sergeant,” Dell’Appa said, “sergeant. Detective Sergeant Harry Dell’Appa then, all right? Call me ‘Sarge,’ if you like. It’s okay.”

  “Fine,” Comiskey said, “and still nice this time, too, second time I meet you today. There’s anything else you want here today, just catch my eye, okay, Sergeant?”

  “Will do,” Dell’Appa said.

  She put the chill on Mossi again. “And can I bring you anything, Joe?” she said. “My next trip up here, I mean?”

  “I’m all set,” Mossi said, and when she’d gone away, shook his head and said sorrowfully: “Too bad. That’s really a thing that’s too bad.”

  “ ‘Too bad,’ ” Dell’Appa said, biting into the pastrami sandwich, “what’s too bad?”

  “Ah, nothin’ new,” Mossi said, “just: they’re just kids. They don’t know. The guy that she’s goin’ with? He’s not a bad kid, not a bad kid at all. But that’s still what he is: He’s a kid. Don’t matter, he’s older’n she is, okay? He’s still inna same category. Nobody can tell him a thing. You look at two kids like that, she isn’t twenny yet, sure, yeah, they’re havin’ some fun. Why wouldn’t they be, havin’ fun? He’s got some dough now, can take her out places. They have a few drinks, see a show.” He pinched his eyes narrow. “You been around, guy your age, you know, you’re doin’ your kinda work. You probably know, I’m talkin’ about, how guys your age will do this to kids. Takin’ advantage of them. Of nice young girls, don’t know what they’re doin’.”

  “I have heard of that happenin’,” Dell’Appa said. “I have heard that that stuff goes on.”

  “Yeah,” Mossi said heavily. “And then afterwards, where do they go? Well, there’s a lot of apartments, a whole shitload, apartments. It’s not like they’re that hard to find. He’s probably got one down in Providence there, one that he’s got with a friend. Studio, maybe, one bedroom, they can each take their girlfriend to. Fuck. Wife, sure, okay, she wouldn’t like this, she found out what he was doin’. So she wouldn’t, okay, well then lemme ask this then: how is she gonna find out, huh? ’Less he knocks the other one up? She isn’t, that’s how, long as everyone’s happy, the girlfriend is who I mean here: just as long as nobody gets mad. Which he thinks that nobody does. Just like all of the other guys that did it thought too; all of them thought the same exact thing: nobody’d ever get mad. ’til one of their girlfriends actually did, she finally got mad and said: ‘Okay then, so what’s it gonna be here? Gonna be her or gonna be me?’ And that is the question without no right answer. No matter what the guy says, he is gonna be wrong, and somebody’s gonna be mad. Maybe two somebodies: mad. And this’s not even with guys screwin’ sisters; this’s just guys with two broads, not even related each other. With sisters, oh brother, I never seen that, but ka-boom, that is what I imagine. The H-bomb’s what we’re talkin’ here.

  “But that didn’t happened to Timmy right now yet, so naturally what does he think? He thinks—with his dick of course, not with his brains—he’s havin’ fun, this real big hot shit that he is, pokin’ both sisters at once, and plenty of money and everythin’. And he is, stupid fuck, he is havin’ fun, and he will be, too, ’til he gets caught. That’s what he don’t realize, see? Then that cock of his’ll, bam, right in the meatgrinder, and that won’t be no fun at all, then. But, what it is that he’s finally doin’ these days, that’s where all the money comes from? That I’m not tellin’ you, right? Don’t go gettin’ that idea or nothin’, but this thing that he finally came up with, don’t matter no more, some people don’t like him, too much fresh mouth on him there. With them, without them, he don’t give a shit. Don’t matter a good shit to him. He don’t need the old paisans no more now. He can do what he wants without them, and he’s getting rich doing it, too, he can hang onto some of it there. And they don’t even know
what it is.”

  “What what is?” Dell’Appa said idly, chewing and dunking the teabag repeatedly into the hot water.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full, all right?” Mossi said. “It’s not polite, and anyways, I wouldn’t tell you anyways and I already told you that, that I wasn’t gonna tell you.” The public address system began to amplify a sandpaper voice reading lists of information about the afternoon’s racing card. “The point of it is here that the two of them’re not only not acting serious about anything, they don’t even see how there’s anything that they should even be serious about, you know? People’ve been shot, they’ve gotten shot, over this kinda stuff, you know?”

  He looked sharply at Dell’Appa. “Or do you know that? No, prolly you don’t know. How’d you know? You’re the same age’s he is, you’re prolly still just as fuckin’ stupid’s he is. Here’s this guy that’s thirty-five, thirty-six years old, and he don’t even understand he’s way too old for a kid her age, that’s what? prolly nineteen years old. And that’s his wife’s sister to boot. That’s what I’m talking about. What they’re playin’ with’s dynamite here. So, but that don’t matter none to him, does it, and you seen her: don’t matter to her. But … and that’s all I was sayin’.”