Nowhere, NJ (The Good Bad Guys Book 2)

by HD Smith

  Matt shouldn’t have been so snide with Ryerson, but at least now it was done. He’d given them a reason to finish the job. He had all confidence the Mob machine would now be working to his client’s advantage. The thirty thousand dollars he’d just paid would be used to cover their tithe to the organization—the percentage each arm owed the top guys for their protection and inclusion in the system. The original fee for the work would then be used by the company they’d contracted as a profit for their business, which for the most part was probably legitimate. Matt was just glad no one knew his real name. He didn’t need that kind of attention. Ryerson was just throwing around Logan’s name. He probably wanted to see how Matt would react to it, or if Matt even recognized it, which was why Matt should have played dumb. If a wise guy was doing his job right, only the right people knew who he was and what he did. The average New Yorker never saw the Mob. They knew it existed, but they didn’t see it. To them, James Logan was a businessman that happened to make the news occasionally. They didn’t know “Jimmy the Cleaner”, and that was exactly how the Mob wanted to keep it.

  On his way back to the hotel, Matt called Faith. He wanted to check-in and he needed to hear a friendly voice. The city was already getting to him.

  “Hello,” Faith answered the phone.

  “Hey honey, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing much. Pete is trying to convince me to let him stay over at David’s this weekend.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “Of course, but I want him to clean his room first. How did the office look?”

  Matt blew out a breath. “They’re still building cubicles, but it’ll be done Friday. I’ll be home Friday night.”

  “Friday ... I thought it was going to take them until the end of next week?”

  Dismissively Matt said, “They just needed a better incentive. They were angling for a better price.”

  “Um,” Faith said hesitantly, “you mean you bribed them to finish?”

  “I wouldn’t call it bribing. We just pre-negotiated their tip,” Matt said, as if that explained it. Faith just didn’t understand how it worked.

  “I see,” she said, in that skeptical tone she used with their son Pete every time he tried to explain how the dog ate his homework. “So how do you know they’ll finish?”

  “The work never takes as long as they estimate. They lowball the bid to get the job, then they use the inconvenience of them being underfoot as an incentive to pay a higher price.”

  “So you bribed them to finish?” she repeated, sounding sarcastic.

  Matt chuckled, realizing that he’d just rationalized the racketeering practices of the Mob. “Yeah, that’s about right.” Good job, Larson, why don’t you just tell her you used to work for the Mob, too? “We won’t be hiring these guys again, but we’re stuck with them for this job.”

  “It sounds like you’re outside.”

  “I’m heading back to the hotel. I have some contracts to review, and the network team doesn’t get in until tomorrow.” And there was no way he’d be hanging out at the Atherton office all day. He’d done what he was hired for—getting the job moving. He’d go back tomorrow to get phase two started.

  “Mom,” Matt heard Pete’s voice in the background.

  “Just a minute,” Faith’s muffled voice called back, then she said, “okay I’ve gotta go, don’t work too hard. Love you babe.”

  “Love you too.”

  Chapter 4

  1985

  Mr. Hill told Matty’s mother that he would keep her boy out of trouble. All that really meant was that Matty was assigned more jobs. Juli usually tagged along so Matty didn’t mind the extra work or the extra money. The neighborhood was busier than normal, package drop offs had increased, and Matty noticed several new faces at Miller’s Pub. There was nothing odd about any of that, but there was also an uneasy vibe as if something more was happening than Matty was aware of.

  He’d also noticed that Mr. Hill and Mr. Townsend were making more trips into New York City. Matty assumed that was to meet with the higher ups in the organization, which was one more reason Matty thought something must be going on.

  He was hanging out with Juli at Demarko’s Pizza when Hill’s driver, Reno, pulled up to the curb.

  “Matty,” Reno called from the car. Matty left his pizza and rushed over. “Hill wants you to take this package over to Jefferson, to that place you’ve delivered to before.” Reno handed Matty an unmarked package plainly wrapped in brown paper. It was about half the size of a shoebox, which was a little larger than most of the other items Matty took care of, but not as heavy.

  “Sure, is Mr. Hill back from the city?” Matty asked.

  “Yeah, they just got back. He said to tell you this was real important.” Reno tapped the small box with his finger to emphasize he meant the package.

  Matty and Juli left Demarko’s right away, heading toward the delivery address. They’d been waiting for Ronny and Lenny to show, but the delivery came first. He and Juli would catch up with them later.

  “Guess what I heard?” Juli said, as they headed down the street.

  “What?”

  “I heard the Foster brothers are going to Military School—in Connecticut. I heard they’ve already left.”

  “Really? Who did you hear that from?”

  “My dad was talking to Mr. Hill on the phone. He told Hill that he’d taken care of the Foster problem, and gave him the name of the school they’d be attending.”

  “Wow, so that’s it. There just gone.”

  Juli nodded.

  Matty wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Lester and Marvin were both jackasses, but to be sent away to school seemed harsh. Of course if Mr. Townsend had been given the job, maybe they got off easy. “What do you think your dad did?”

  Shrugging, Juli said, “I don’t know. It probably didn’t take much. A nice polite suggestion from a giant—you know, the usual.”

  Juli was making light of his dad’s part, but there was no telling what had really happened. All Matty could be sure of was that Mr. Foster was persuaded by Mr. Townsend—aka “Townsend the Butcher”—to send his sons away. Matty suspected that Juli had an idea of what really happened, but Juli never talked about the specifics of his dad’s job.

  Matty tucked the package under his arm. “That explains why we haven’t seen them around. I just thought they were chicken shit.”

  Juli snorted, then got serious. “You won’t believe what else I heard.”

  “What?” Matty asked cautiously.

  Sighing, Juli said, “I heard some of the guys at Miller’s referring to you as ‘Mad Dog’ Dunmore.”

  “What? You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, Mad Dog,” Juli said sarcastically.

  “How did I get that name? You’re the one that wouldn’t stop fighting.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Juli said, incredulous. “The story is that you were the one that wouldn’t stop fighting. So you got the name. And it’s a good one too.”

  Matty shook his head. “No way, they can’t give me your name. Who did you hear saying it?”

  Juli kicked a small pebble, sending it skidding down the sidewalk ahead of them. “I don’t remember, just some guys at Miller’s,” he groused.

  Matty could tell his friend was pissed. He’d have been pissed too if it had happened the other way. He’d picked his own E name, but nicknames were given. That was why Juli was disappointed. Matty had been given the nickname that Juli had actually earned from the fight with the Foster brothers, and Matty knew there was nothing either of them could do about it. He would just have to wait and see if it stuck.

  As he turned onto Jefferson Avenue, Matty noticed two strange-looking guys in a white van. The driver appeared to straighten up and get the passenger’s attention as Matty and Juli turned the corner.

  “So what do you think’s in the package?” Juli asked, pulling Matty’s focus away from the van.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s
not very heavy.”

  The entrance to the delivery address was just ahead. With eyes fixed on his destination Matty didn’t realize someone was behind him until he was shoved hard in the back. He careened into Juli and they both stumbled into the alley beside the apartment building. Matty spun around to see the two men from the van standing there. The shorter one was blond and had a close buzz cut.

  Buzz Cut’s partner, a stocky guy with dark lanky hair brandished a hunting knife. He had tattooed letters on each finger, which didn’t fit in with his preppy up-town look. “No one gets hurt if you give us the package,” Knife Guy said.

  “Yeah,” Buzz Cut added, “just hand it over, kid, and we’ll let you walk away.”

  “What should we do?” Juli whispered.

  Matty glanced back. The alley they were in was a dead end. “Try to run past them,” he whispered back, “The one that gets through runs to the apartment for help.”

  Juli nodded, indicating he understood the plan. If the guys from the van only wanted the package, Juli had a good chance of getting by them—and Juli was fast. Matty had no doubts he’d make it.

  “Hey,” Knife Guy said, “there’s nothing to discuss. Give us the damn package.”

  “Run!” Matty yelled.

  Juli darted to the right as Matty headed left. As soon as Juli had taken off, the men lunged for Matty, knocking him to the ground. He struggled to hold on to the package. His arm felt wet as his grip gave way.

  “No,” Matty yelled as the two men ran from the alley—package in hand.

  Juli came running around the corner, just as Matty heard the van squeal away.

  “Matty, you’re bleeding!”

  Looking down Matty saw that blood covered his shirt, and a big gash ran along his arm. The man with the knife had cut him while taking the package.

  Juli rushed to his side. He inspected Matty’s cut. “Shit, man, it looks deep. Wait here. I’ll get help.”

  Matty wrestled his shirt off, wrapping the bloody mess around his arm. Holding it close to his chest, he kept pressure on the wound as best he could. There was blood everywhere and Juli was right, the cut looked deep.

  Juli returned a minute later with a towel. He wrapped it around Matty’s arm, over the bloody shirt.

  Juli helped Matty to his feet. “The guy at the delivery address called Mr. Hill, but that’s all he’s willing to do. Reno’s on his way.”

  Matty felt nauseous. He leaned against the brick wall for support. Juli helped him hold the towel around the wound. It took forever for Reno to get there. He put Matty in the back seat and told him to stay down, which wasn’t going to be an issue because Matty was about to pass out.

  “Open your eyes,” Juli said, sliding into the backseat with him. “Don’t pass out.”

  “Yeah, kid, hold tight.” Reno floored it, squealing tires as he peeled out onto the road. He rushed Matty to the back entrance of Miller’s pub, where a doctor was already waiting to stitch Matty’s cut. The wound needed twenty-four stitches. Matty was sure it was going to leave a wickedly ugly scar. Luckily he hadn’t needed any blood. The doctor had him drink plenty of water and orange juice. Matty didn’t feel great, but he was alive.

  Mr. Hill handed Matty a new shirt. “If anyone asks how you got hurt, you tell them you got cut picking up broken soda bottles behind the pub. You understand? I’ll call your mother and square things with her.”

  Matty just nodded. He was glad they already had a good story. Hill would explain things to his mom and convince her that’s how it happened. Matty knew she’d go ballistic if she ever found out what really happened.

  While Hill phoned Matty’s mom, Townsend passed Matty another juice and some cookies. He was ready to go home, but he and Juli had to answer their questions first.

  Mr. Hill eyed both boys. “What do you two remember about the guys that jumped you?”

  Juli started. “The van was white and looked beat up. It had a bumper sticker on the back, but it didn’t have a tag.”

  Matty realized that Juli must have gotten a good look at the van from the back before it sped away. Matty had only seen it from the front.

  “What did the bumper sticker say?” Hill asked.

  “It was kinda faded, but I think it said ‘KMNR 89.7’. Some radio station I guess.”

  “Reno,” Hill barked. “Find out if that’s a local station.”

  “On it, boss,” Reno said, heading into the bar.

  “What about the two guys?” Hill asked. “What did they look like?”

  Matty had seen the two men before they’d jumped him, he’d gotten a good look when they tackled him to the ground too. “They sort of looked hip, but not really.” Hill’s eyebrows drew together. Matty explained. “They were dressed like they were going to a party—you know, sort of overdone, like a costume. But the one guy had a buzz cut, which didn’t fit with the whole look. And the other guy, he had some words tattooed on his fingers, but they looked like prison tats—not the kind a guy like he was pretending to be would have. That guy’s hair was lanky, long, and dark. It just didn’t fit either. And Buzz Cut was blond.”

  “Yeah,” Juli chimed in, “and the one guy—Buzz Cut—he was wearing red cowboy boots. It was just weird.”

  Matty had forgotten about the boots, but once Juli mentioned it, he remembered seeing them too.

  Hill looked at Townsend as if they were silently conferring, then asked, “Have either of you seen them before?”

  Matty shook his head. “No.”

  “Me either,” Juli added.

  “Matty,” Hill said, “Townsend’s going to take you home. I’ve already talked to Audrey. Don’t give her any trouble.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Matty didn’t talk much as Mr. Townsend drove him home. His arm was throbbing, and although most of the blood had been cleaned up, he felt sticky like he was still covered in it. He studied the stitches on his arm. They seemed to form a weird elongated crescent shape, a jagged half-moon. It wasn’t going to be pretty.

  “That looks like it hurts,” Juli said, looking down at Matty’s arm.

  “Yeah,” Matty agreed, looking up as the car slowed. He was glad to be home.

  “See you tomorrow?” Juli asked as Matty got out of the car.

  “Maybe, although Mom’s probably going to freak out and make me stay home for a few days once she sees the stitches.”

  Juli nodded. “Sure, man. Catch you later.”

  ~#~

  Matty’s mom hadn't questioned him about how he got the stitches. She either believed the story about the broken soda bottles, or didn’t really want to know the truth. She was freaked out about the size of the injury, and, as he’d suspected, made him stay home for two weeks so it could heal properly.

  Ten days into his confinement, Mr. Hill sent the doctor over to remove the stitches. The gash was healing, but still looked pretty rough. The doc said something about it building character, but Matty would have preferred some less noticeable character.

  Matty was going stir crazy being stuck at the apartment. Juli called every few days, so he had the latest scoop, but it wasn’t the same as hang out with his friends. The big news today was something Ronny overheard his dad saying. Apparently the package the goons in the van took from Matty wasn’t the only thing that was taken that week. Several other bosses reported trouble with deliveries. A New York City branch of the family reported a death—their delivery guy was gutted and left to bleed out on the street. That was the only incident to make the news, but the organization was directing a lot of attention to the situation. The higher ups were pissed, but everyone was being tight-lipped about what had actually been taken. None of the guys had heard anything about what was being targeted. All Matty knew was that the package he’d been trying to deliver wasn’t like the ones he’d delivered in the past. It was bigger but not as heavy, which probably meant nothing. It wasn’t like he’d ever been allowed to see what was in the packages.

  He was surprised and happy when his mom fi
nally ended house arrest—at least that was how he’d started thinking of his confinement. He called Juli and made plans to meet at Demarko’s for lunch.

  Matty was on his second slice of pizza, thrilled to be out of the house, when Ronny and Lenny came running down the street toward the outside table where he and Juli were sitting.

  “Juli,” Ronny said, almost out of breath, “guess what we just found?”

  “What?” Juli asked.

  Ronny leaned down. In a low whisper he said, “We found a way to see into the back room of Miller’s Pub.”

  Matty’s eye widened. “How?”

  “Follow us and see.” Lenny grinned before taking off back the way he’d come.

  Ronny, Matty, and Juli followed Lenny toward Miller’s Pub.

  “Glad you’re finally back, Matty,” Ronny said slapping him on the shoulder. “That’s one wicked scar. You have all the luck.”

  Juli snorted. “Right, bro, almost bleeding out on the sidewalk—real lucky.”

  “You know what I mean, Juli. Anyway, glad you’re back.”

  “Thanks, man,” Matty said. “Where exactly are we going?”

  “You know that building next door, the one attached to the back room?” Ronny asked.

  Matty mentally pictured the front of Miller’s pub. What appeared to be the building next door had always looked closed, because it was actually the back room. The one beside that building was the one Ronny meant. “You mean the laundry, right?”

  “Yeah, Jack’s Cleaners. Well they went out of business last week and today some guys picked up a load of equipment and forgot to lock the back door.”

  Lenny glanced back over his shoulder, giving Ronny a knowing look. “So we decided to go in and check it out.”

  Matty didn’t believe that story for a second. He raised an eyebrow. “They forgot to lock the back door?”

  Ronny chuckled. “Well, they remembered to lock the door when they left, but not when they went in. They didn’t even see us sneak in, and they forgot to check that the place was empty before they locked it.”

  “Oh, man,” Juli said, shaking his head. “You better hope Dad doesn’t find out.”