by Matt Hader
***
Larry had left for the day, and Dwayne still hadn’t arrived back with his car, so John locked up the building and began walking home. The car horn startled him as he approached the railroad tracks.
Amy, behind the wheel of her old car, waved for John to get in, which he quickly did. They glanced at one another but looked away almost immediately. They drove in silence for a few blocks.
“Thanks. Dwayne has my car.”
“Oh. John, I know I said we should never talk about what happened, but I think we should now. What’s going to happen?”
“Nothing. Nothing ever happens.”
She took a right on Main instead of going straight to John’s street, and when John didn’t offer any more information, she continued, “No, really. What’s going to happen, John? I mean, you can’t do something like that and not expect to get away with it.”
“Where are you going? I live the other way.”
As Amy pulled into the high school parking lot to turn around, she stopped and took in the sight of the construction crews repairing the crumbling, gymnasium foundation.
They had created a complex system of footers and piers to bolster the sizeable building while a new foundation was poured underneath the damaged one.
“So, you and Henry, huh?”
“What?”
“You don’t have to pretend, Amy, I know that you guys are into one another.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. And you know what? I don’t like your tone.”
“So you didn’t put him up to it?”
“What are you talking about!?”
Her outburst cemented everything in John’s mind – she actually didn’t know about Henry’s love for her or that he was shaking him down for an additional $100,000 to prop up his failing, Kid Crew business. He had to know for certain, though, and provoking her was the fastest way to finding out.
John let the air settle and watched the construction crew along with Amy, neither of them wanting to make eye contact with the other.
“It wasn’t an accident, you know,” said John.
“What are you talking-”
But she actually did know what John was referring to. She had discovered his possible arsonist past and nickname of Sparky after she began asking around town about John.
“I figured that the cotton from the stage clouds I was making would go up like a shot if I crammed enough of it into the powered-up light housings. I plugged it in and pushed the entire lighting system under the first row of bleachers. Man, it was something. I barely got out of the gym myself before it became totally engulfed.”
“John, please stop talking. I don’t want to know any more, okay?”
John sat silently for a moment and truly admired what the construction crew had accomplished in just a few days. They had to work quickly, though, if they were going to save the gymnasium’s structure.
John said, “Go to dinner with me tomorrow night?”
“And why would I want to do that?! So we can go out after and knock over a liquor store.”
“Meet me at the Bistro on Route 14 at eight. You know where it is.”
“Or, what?” asked Amy.
John just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. He seemed to be sporting a more “dick-ish” side of his personality.
“Oh, I get it. Go to dinner with me and back to my house afterwards or there’s no Kid Crew job, is that it? I knew it. I knew it would come to this.”
“You would look good in an orange jumpsuit.”
“You asshole! I had nothing to do with that shit you pulled downtown!”
“I don’t know. You did spend the night in a bank robber’s hotel suite. You had a nice meal cooked by a private chef, and all. How will that look to a jury?”
“Get out!”
“So I’ll see you tomorrow at eight?”
“Out!!”
As John got out of her car Amy took off, almost taking his left foot along for the ride.
All he could think of was, “Shit.”
He still had a half mile walk to see what had become of his car and Dwayne. But he stopped for a brief moment to watch the construction crew do their thing and thought, “She’ll be there.”
***
“Dad? What are you doing?”
Jason, trying to wrap the garrote around Enright’s thick neck, was thrown off for just an instant, and that allowed the chubby, private detective to spin and hammer Jason with a series of quick elbow and forearm jabs to the head.
Jason went down hard, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. He lay prone next to the already unconscious and bloody Dwayne and Lou. Both of whom had been quickly dispatched by the very adept, Krav Maga fighter, Enright.
Earlier, Dwayne hadn’t even put up a fight. Enright finally heard the car door of the old station wagon shut and thought that John had arrived back home.
Just as Enright had stepped into the kitchen, Dwayne walked into the house. Enright took him down with a quick shot with the heel of his hand to the underside of the unsuspecting man’s chin.
Dwayne was a tough guy, fending for himself day in and day out in prison, but he was no match for the maniacal Enright.
As it happened, Lou and Jason barged through the front door as Enright was dragging Dwayne’s unconscious body into the living room by a single ankle.
Lou was able to get a strike in with the leather sap, but it was a glancing blow. Enright instantly cold-cocked Lou with a thunderous series of elbow strikes to his head and neck. Lou went down in a heap.
Jason wasn’t intimidated by Enright at all. In fact, they traded equal blows – fists, elbows and knee strikes. Jason was finally able to spin to Enright’s flank and whip the garrote around his neck.
That’s when Tyler pushed his way through the back door with the shotgun still wrapped in the sleeping bag. Seeing his kid there startled Jason, and that’s when Enright got the drop on him.
Enright said, “Give me the gun, kid.”
Tyler tried in vain to unfurl the sleeping bag from the 12 gauge shotgun, but Enright got to him first. The private detective ripped the gun from Tyler’s grasp and spun it around on him.
***
John was exhausted and totally pissed off as he turned the corner from Dundee to Coleridge. The anger wasn’t directed at Dwayne for not returning his car, though.
He was irritated for allowing things to get out of hand with Amy. He could only hope that his clearer mind would help to make things right in the coming days.
As he neared his home all he could think about was taking a hot shower and maybe getting a nap.
He was now completely Vicodin-free. His mind was cleaner than it had been in a few years. His newfound sobriety empowered him.
He wanted to now take an even more ambitious approach with his life. A legally ambitious approach, that is. He was a small business owner and very proud of that fact. It took a lot of effort to kick the Vikes. And many more sleepless and nauseated nights to accomplish than he expected, but he did it.
She would be there tomorrow night, he thought. She wouldn’t dare not show up. Amy needed the job and she had no other opportunities in her pipeline. She’d be there.
***
When Enright pulled the trigger on the shotgun, nothing happened. He forgot to take the safety off.
“Shit! Shit!” screamed Enright.
Tyler didn’t hesitate. He pounded on Enright with a series of fast, yet ineffective, punches. It was enough to knock Enright back toward the kitchen table, where he lost his balance, dropped the gun and fell to the floor.
Tyler dove on top of Enright, but the older combatant had the Krav Maga advantage yet again. He violently wriggled to a better fighting position and put Tyler
into a triangle choke hold and began applying pressure.
The more the kid fought, the faster he was losing consciousness. Just as the kid went limp, John walked into the back door.
“What the -”
Enright got to his feet and hurled himself at John. But John’s base instincts kicked in. All those fights fending off the bullies at Balmoral High would benefit John in this battle.
His frustrations over being the town’s outcast all these 20 years bubbled up in John, and he became instantly enraged.
He was actually a near match for Enright’s fighting prowess, too. That and Enright had already fought off several combatants. He was fricking tired.
John was a master of the body punch, though, lifting Enright off his feet with every hammering fist he placed into the chubby man’s rib cage. What Enright accomplished with elbow hits and knee strikes, John did with old-fashioned, solidly placed punches.
Enright finally got a wider opening and caught John with a well-placed forearm shot to his nose. The score was instantly evened.
John staggered backward, and Enright went right after him.
As Enright rained down blow after blow, John was able to simultaneously deflect some of the hits with his left arm, while he picked up a ceramic rooster teapot from the kitchen counter with his right hand. He smashed the private detective in the ear with the teapot. Bits of ceramic shattered everywhere.
“Tyler! Tyler, are you okay?” the waking Jason said from the living room floor. “Lou! Brother, wake up.”
“The hell happened , man,” said a groggy Dwayne, attempting to get to his feet.
And that’s when the blonde woman from Superstar’s Coffee, the one who had winked at Enright, walked right into the house, pushed Dwayne aside and angled toward the kitchen.
“What the hell?” said Dwayne as he plopped down into an overstuffed chair.
In the kitchen Enright had quick-kicked John in the shin but without effect. Enright, his exhaustion level at its max, was surprised that the kick had no effect on John.
John said, “Can’t feel my legs, asshole.”
Enright noticed the blonde woman first and tried reaching for the shotgun that was lying across the threshold between the kitchen and the living room. But in one fluid motion, and only using one hand, the blonde woman picked it up first, snicked the safety off and placed the shotgun barrel right under Enright’s chin.
Enright was too tired to do anything about it, but he didn’t raise his hands either.
“Hi, Enright,” said Rita, as she peeled off the blonde wig with her free hand.
Enright did one last stupid thing before he took his final breath. He tried slapping the gun away. He hadn’t figured on the level of pressure Rita’s finger had on the trigger, though.
The thunderous boom finally woke even the unconscious Lou.
Three minutes later, when the two Balmoral police cars arrived in front of the house, John was setting off cherry bombs in the driveway.
“Hey, John, what the hell, man?” said Jimmy, walking closer.
A sheepish John said, “Shit. Sorry, guys. Are you receiving complaints? I’m getting in the Fourth of July mood a little early, I guess. Sorry. Really. I’ll stop now.”
The other cop was actually the chief. He surveyed John’s house, the egg stains and the general crappy condition of the structure. He turned to Jimmy and said, “Take care of this.” The chief spun on his heels, walked back to his car, got in and took off.
“What happened?” said Jimmy, pointing to the blood trickling out of John’s nose and over his upper lip.
“I cut myself shaving. It must’ve opened back up,” he lied.
Jimmy didn’t buy the story but didn’t really care one way or the other. As he was about to leave, he noticed Tyler carrying something rather large, heavy and covered in dark, plastic bags into the open garage.
“What the fu…”
***
Jimmy had his gun out of the holster but wasn’t aiming it at any one particular person as of yet.
All but one of the still breathing players stood in a circle in the closed garage. John, Jimmy, Lou, Jason, Rita, and Tyler were all looking rather grim. All but Jimmy and Rita were nursing their wounds with paper towel-covered handfuls of ice.
Jimmy said, “I have to cuff someone. Who’s it going to be?”
Dwayne, on the other hand, whistled to himself as he moved stacks of frozen pizza boxes from the large chest freezer in the corner. Enright’s dark, plastic bag-covered body lay across the work table next to the freezer.
“Okay, boy, he’s all yours,” Dwayne said to Tyler. Tyler’s eyes asked Jimmy for permission to help Dwayne and that’s when the Balmoral cop sighed and put his gun away.
Jimmy nodded for Tyler to go ahead and help. Tyler made his way over and lifted Enright’s body and unceremoniously dropped it into the freezer. Dwayne slammed the lid closed and smiled in a self-congratulatory way.
“We’re gonna have to eat this shit up,” Dwayne said, pointing to the frozen pizzas he had displaced to make room for Enright’s corpse. “Those pizzas ain’t cheap.”
John said, “It’s not a problem, really. I got them as two-fers at Gemstone last week-”
“Holy shit, will you shut the fuck up?” said Jimmy. “We’ve got to think this through.”
But John had already done the calculating; he had just not let anyone in on his plan yet. He stepped over to his workbench and grabbed up a brand-new, drum file power tool, unboxed it and said, “Lou, hand me the shotgun.”
CHAPTER 48
After a hearty breakfast of corned beef hash and poached eggs, John and Dwayne parted ways. Larry watched as they shook hands and then “bro hugged” in the parking lot.
Larry knew something was up with John and Dwayne but didn’t want to know any more than he already did. John was the damned Baby Face Robber. Shit, he thought, “I know it’s wrong, but I’m proud of my friend.”
“It’s his last day as dishwasher,” said a smiling Lou as he stepped up to the kitchen pass-through. “Dwayne’s moving on.”
“No shit. I didn’t know that,” said Larry.
“The man is good man. He’s good for his word,” said Lou as he made his way over to seat an arriving customer.
John made his way back into the diner and poked his head through the pass-through and said, “Larry, are you up for making $500 later on today? It’s nothing illegal. For you, anyway.” John winked.
Larry smiled and nodded. He’d be honored to help his friend.
***
Dwayne was able to steal the tan-colored Saturn only two blocks away from Dink’s Diner at the train station parking lot.
He thought, “Shit, John was right, Saturn’s are easy to hot-wire.” He put the car into drive and waved at a female parking enforcement officer who was ticketing a car.
“You have a good day, officer,” said Dwayne, as he slowly rolled away in the stolen car.
***
John, carrying a large manila envelope, met a kitchen staff member of the Bistro on Route 14 at the back door of the restaurant. The dinner date with Amy wouldn’t be until eight that evening, but John had something that needed setting up beforehand.
The suspicious kitchen staff member didn’t want to allow John into the building. That was, until John tucked a crisp, hundred dollar bill in the staff member’s white shirt pocket.
When he was given permission to enter, John quickly moved inside.
***
Keith Michaels was handed a large manila envelope by a male assistant as he sat in his village council member office at the municipal building.
After the assistant made his exit, Keith studied the envelope carefully before he ripped it open. It had his name handwritten on the front, but there was no
t a return address or cancelled postage on it and that made him a little suspicious.
After he ripped it open, the first thing that dropped out of the envelope was a flattened, plastic, baby face mask. When that happened, Keith got immediately to his feet, crossed the room and shut the office door.
When he stepped back over to his desk, he emptied the remainder of the envelope’s contents out onto his desk. A handwritten note and two separate cashier’s checks lay on the desk top. Keith picked up the note and read it, smiled and looked at one of the checks.
“Holy shit!”
Keith’s confidence of late was skyrocketing, and he had no one else to thank but the man in the baby face mask. He’s the one who had helped make it possible for Keith to replenish his own savings account, and to finally pay off Franky “Five Bucks” of the $50,000 he owed - and to get out from under his mobbed-up thumb.
But there was more to Keith’s rising confidence level than ridding himself of Franky’s wrath.
Keith Michaels had finally stood up to his overbearing father-in-law.
After being allowed to get off the financial hook he was on, Keith had moved his family out of the million dollar home in Inverness. He had relocated back into the fixer-upper he was working on in Balmoral. He left the house keys as well as the keys for the leased car in the parked Mercedes SUV in the driveway of the Inverness home.
And something rather special happened during this new course of events in Keith’s life – his wife and family seemed to be responding quite positively to the new Keith.
It wasn’t that he had become overbearing himself, but that he was more attentive and caring. He was now spending much more time with his family instead of chasing his wayward dreams and trying to satisfy a father-in-law who would never be pleased anyway.
Keith’s wife was happy to go along with dumping the big house for the one that was more centrally located in the cute little town of Balmoral. There her family, especially her disabled son, could thrive and be more connected to the community, instead of hiding in a cul-de-sac in Inverness.
