At End of Day

by George V. Higgins

  “Because Arthur thinks if anyone, even his friends, ever even thought it, that he could get taken out, and then that kind of thinking got around, then that would be the beginning. People would get used to it, you know? Used to the idea it could be actually done. And if that idea ever did get started, then sooner or later some dumb bastard would actually try it. And he might even get lucky, just get off one lucky shot, and then if that should happen, he would in fact be dead. So, he saw it as a threat.

  “There were a few times when I almost made that mistake, myself. When I thought that maybe something in the paper or I maybe heard from someone, that explained me where he’d been and, you know, what he might’ve been up to.

  “Like, I remember one time when he was gone there, that time back in the late seventies, seventy-seven, seventy-eight, in there, one of those years anyway, I know it was in the spring of, and he was gone for quite a while, too. Long time, six-eight weeks, maybe more. And as usual he comes back and he didn’t say a word. So you now knew that that meant all he wanted you to know was just that he’d gone away, and he’d been away a while, and now he was back again and that was the end of it. And what I remember first I noticed that he didn’t have a tan, so you knew that it was not that he’d been down south someplace, wherever he’d gone. But I still did not know where.

  “And then that whichever year it was, seventy-seven, seventy-eight, sometime in July or August, now, good while after he came back, there was this item in the paper where they said police in Ireland, or else maybe it was coast guard or the army, Irish army, coast guard that I’m talking about here, not the British army there. Anyway, it said that they had gotten wind of someone shipping arms over there in this big fishing boat that came from here, from Boston. This big oceangoing trawler you could go all the way across the Atlantic in, very easy, any time. And basically what these guys’d done was pick up guns in Canada, and the plan was they were then going to land them on the Irish coast.

  “And what it was, the IRA would then’ve come down from up where they are, up in Northern Ireland, come down and pick up the guns, and then smuggle them across the border, back up there to Northern Ireland, Belfast probably, I guess. And they would then use them to kill British soldiers with. And also to kill Protestants, of course, naturally, those crazy bastards all still then fightin’ with each other, no good reason whatsoever. Like whichever church you went to, it could get you fuckin’ killed, Christ sake, and nobody’d even be surprised.

  “And this thing in the paper said that what’d happened was the guns’d gotten there all right, been landed on the coast, but that then apparently somebody over there that either was involved in it himself or else he knew some people were, they caught him doing something else, with a bomb, I think it was.

  “He had some explosives with him and the feeling was I guess that what he’d been plannin’ was to go blow up the queen, Queen Elizabeth I mean—she went out in public somewhere. Or maybe it was Princess Di, I’m not really sure on that. All I’m really sure of is that it was someone in the royal family. Anyway, it was about as serious as it could get unless he’d actually done it, them catchin’ him with that in mind, and so they didn’t needah tell him he’s goin’ away for a good long time, for havin’ that idea in mind.

  “And so to save his own white ass he told them about the guns. Who was involved, at least in Ireland, once they’d gotten there, and where it was they had them stashed, and that was how they grabbed them.

  “And like I say now, this was in the summertime of that next year I read this, when Arthur’d gone away inna spring, the year before, and come back in the spring of that year, and so after readin’ it I naturally think, ‘Now I know where Arthur was when Arthur wasn’t here. He was on the deep blue sea, takin’ arms to Ireland.’

  “And so the next time that I see him I say, ‘Hey, Arthur, my Irish friend, now I know where you were when you’re not around last year and this. Too bad that guy on the other end wrecked all your hard work.’

  “I’m just kiddin’ him, you know? And he gives me that look he had, you know, when he’s irritated? When something that you maybe said irritated him? And he says, ‘The hell’re you talkin’ about?’

  “And I say then, ‘This spring, Arthur, when you’re gone, six weeks, a couple months. Now I know where you went and what you were doin’ there—you were takin’ guns to Ireland, and from what I see the papers, everything that you did, your end, seems to’ve worked out pretty good. Isn’t your fault, some asshole got himself grabbed and turned rat—you did a good job.’

  “He just flared at me, that horrible look that he gets on his face and his eyes, they’ve got this look in them that some of the guys I trained with—I trained under’s what I mean, back when I was in the navy; they’re career UDT men, underwater demolition teams. And they had it too, I mean. ‘Thousand-yard stare’ was what I heard one guy call it. These guys were stone-cold killers.

  “Now I don’t mean I never, I mean, I was trained to do that too, that was how I got to know them, learning how to do that stuff, and when I had to do it, well, that was what I did. But I never, I don’t think I ever, had that look in my eyes they had and that he gets. I thought he was gonna kill me. I thought I was gonna die.

  “He backed me off with that look. Even me, I’m on his side—did things with him. Been with him thirty years, more—even I backed away. ‘Hey,’ I said, ‘now don’t get mad now, I was only foolin’ with you, teasin’, for the luvva Mike, givin’ you a little shit. Like I could’ve said, you know, all along I was afraid you’d gone and joined the Program.’

  “Well, as you well know by now, Arthur isn’t famous for his sense of humor. He is not well known for that. He’s got one—if you tell a joke he gets he does think certain things’re funny, and he’ll get on a guy and ride him, although I think he has to be in a good mood that day. Because as you can see, I’m here tonight and talkin’; he must not’ve killed me yet.”

  Stoat had put two bottles of Antonori Chianti Classico Riserva and three wineglasses on the pass-through counter. He put three plates of chicken cacciatore on the counter. The Hitachi segued from a Bell Atlantic “Wild Things Are Happening” ad featuring cartoon monsters into the 8:00 P.M. rerun of the 6:00 P.M. Channel 5 News. “Gentlemen,” he said, “dinner is served. A bit overcooked and a little late, but dinner is served nonetheless.”

  Cistaro and Farrier moved to the table, Cistaro taking his usual seat and Farrier going around his customary place at the end of the table farthest from the kitchen to the chair McKeach had occupied opposite Cistaro. Stoat brought large serving dishes of linguini and more cacciatore from the kitchen and set them at the center of the table. He put a plate of food and poured a glass of wine at each place, and as they began to eat proposed a toast: “to our absent friend, Arthur, whom we hope to hear from soon.”

  “Hear, hear,” Farrier said, and Cistaro said “Yeah.” They clinked glasses and drank.

  “Because,” Cistaro said around the first forkful of chicken in his mouth, “even though I was just sayin’ I have known him to take off like this without givin’ any warning, what makes me nervous this time is that I know he’s never done it without havin’ some good reason, and therefore without knowin’ tonight what it could’ve been that made him do it, I still have to think there is one, and I don’t know what it is. That he might’ve heard something, you know? Heard something that I didn’t, but that he would assume I did, that if he did so must’ve I, and therefore without callin’ me or anything like that, that he would just take off.”

  “Well, how could that’ve happened?” Stoat said. “Where you and he ’re partners, and’ve been partners for so long? How could it’ve happened that he’d hear about something that would frighten him enough——”

  Cistaro, now chewing his second forkful of chicken as he used both hands and the large serving pieces to lift linguini to his plate, shook his head and said, “No, un uh, no, not ‘frightened.’ ” He swallowed as he replaced the serving
pieces in the large dish. “Arthur now, he would be pissed, he heard you say he was frightened.

  “Frightened’s one thing I would doubt that Arthur’s ever been. Frightened is what he makes other people. No, if he did hear something and that was why he cleared out, the reason that he wouldn’t contact me first before he left?” He continued to eat while he talked, twirling linguini onto his fork in his soupspoon, cutting meat from the chicken breast with the knife in his right hand and delivering to his mouth with the fork in his left.

  “Well, first,” Cistaro said, “it could have been something that he knew would not be something that would concern me. See, while it’s true that as partners for a very long time now we have had a number of interests that have produced income for both of us, we have also, each of us, had a few interests of our own, that we kept separate. He had some things from when he was with Brian G., all right? That he kept when Brian went down and after we got together. And also some other things that came out of those things, you could say grew out of what he had with Brian G. And there were quite a few of these.

  “Just as when we got together, I had quite a few things going that I had, I was with Hugo. And after that some other things that just in the normal course of things, that grew out of those things, too. And so when we got together, he kept those things that he had had before we did that, and likewise I myself kept those things that I had had before.

  “Now I realize when you say it, I’m explaining it to you now, it sounds pretty complicated, but it’s really not at all. Or at least to me and Arthur, don’t seem that way. See, that kind of independence we still kept when we joined up, that was very important, to me especially. If I had’ve gone with Nunzio, all right? With Nunzio Dinapola who was the Boston Cosa Nostra guy before he died and Carlo, Carlo Rizzo took his place? He was the guy who you hadda go and see, if you were a made guy and you wanted to do something, before you could do it. And if he said you could, you could, and if he didn’t then you couldn’t.

  “Well, he always wanted me to join, both of them wanted that—he had Carlo ask me, Nunzio did, I dunno how many times, and I would always tell him No. I mean, I would be polite about it, no use pissing someone off, he’s tellin’ you he likes your style, the way you go about things, right? And so he’d like you, work for him. No, you don’t want to do that unless for some reason you have to, and then of course you got no choice.

  “But still I would always tell him No, and that was the biggest reason. Havin’ to get their permission before I could do things, which if I became a member I would have to do. But if I didn’t, then what I’d built up with Hugo and what I’d made out of it, that was mine and it would stay mine—unless I joined up with them. Became a made guy, LCN. At which point it would become from then on an interest of ours. Well, no thanks, I don’t think so.

  “And as far as Arthur was concerned, well, he didn’t have the problem that I had with Nunzio, with Carlo, because of course he’s not Sicilian or Italian like I am, and unless you are one of them you’re not eligible. You can do work for them, as Arthur has, as he has no doubt told you. Lots of times when they’ve asked, the order came direct from Providence. And at least one time that I heard about, it came from New York. Hadda go to Florida, Arthur’s got a reputation, and he don’t mind travelin’ to do a job—if the money’s there. That could be where he is now—off on a hurry-up job. But even though he couldn’t join I know he never would, and for the same reason I had. Arthur works for Arthur. He is no one’s employee.”

  Cistaro took a second piece of chicken and another serving of linguini from the serving dishes. “So Arthur may’ve heard something about one of his private interests that may have caused him to hit the road, but wouldn’t affect you?” Stoat said. “And that’s why he didn’t call? Get in touch with you somehow?” Farrier cut and chewed industriously, pausing now and then for wine, as though having found a nice rhythm he didn’t wish to break.

  Cistaro nodded. “Right,” he said. “If hit the road is what he’s done—he’s not just doing something else. And then when he gets where he is going, he’ll then find a payphone and call me sometime when he knows where I’ll be and it isn’t where I live—he’ll assume my phone is tapped and whoever put the tap on’s looking for him, tracing every call I get. So if he called me there then they might not know what building he was in, but they’d at least know what town, where he was, and to start looking, because that’s where the call came from. When I get that call, I will then know.

  “But by then, if he’s gone because something he had just went wrong, then probably tomorrow sometime, or the papers come out tonight, I’ll probably already know what it was that made him go. Because even though we both have things of our own the other guy is not involved with, I know what things he’s got, or most of them, anyway, and he knows most of mine. So one of his has gone haywire bad enough for him to screw, it’ll make the papers.” He swallowed and snorted. “Wasn’t for da fuckin’ Broons, I’d probably know right now.”

  “The Bruins?” Farrier said. “What the hell’ve the Bruins got to do with it?”

  Cistaro was laughing and shaking his head as he worked on the chicken. “Ah fuckin’ Broons’re playin’ ah fuckin’ New Jersey Devils tonight, is what the fuckin’ Broons’ve got to do with it. Game didn’t start until seven-thirty, but WBZ’s got this goddamned pregame warm-up show, I guess it starts at seven? I dunno when the fuck it starts—all I know is by the time I remember Arthur with his fuckin’ old shitboxes, those old cars he’s always driving? Well, to him it didn’t matter they’re old, made him look like he’s retired from the insurance business? Only things he cares about’re that they run. And the heater works; same thing with the air conditioner—if it’s even got AC. He don’t insist on AC, a couple of his old cars didn’t; that’s how old they were. I used to tell him I’m surprised he didn’t ever have one that burned coal instead of gas. He laughed at that. But if it’s in it it should work. And the radio. Hasta have a radio and it’s on all the time.

  “There was this one car, years ago I’m talkin’ now, a big grey fifty Mercury, looked like a giant bathtub someone’d turned upside down, then put a setta wheels on it. Got it for two hundred dollars, someone settlin’ an estate. Anna radio quit on him. Hadda new one put in that cost him a hundred-fifty, ’most as much as the whole car did, ’cause it was the cheapest model that they had, at the first place he went, and he wanted it done fast.

  “If he’s in his fuckin’ car, that radio is on. He is not listening to music and he’s not listening to talk shows. He’s got BZ on, WBZ AM, ten-thirty AM dial, all news all day long. One of the things they must do is monitor the scanners, and also must have people call them out around the various towns, because once some cop makes an arrest he thinks should be a big deal, seems like they’re on the air with it before he’s shut the siren off. Which’s why when he’s in Boston any time he’s in his car, Arthur always has BZ on—it comes on with the ignition.

  “Same reason he’s got bank accounts all over everywhere—that’s what he’s been doing sometimes when no one knew where he is; drivin’ all over the country, opening these bank accounts, nothing that attracts attention, two, maybe, three thousand dollars. I dunno what names’re on ’em, whose Social Security numbers or anything like that, but I know they exist—I got no idea how many. Different names on different licenses; I know where he got those, but also, different names on different passports; where he got them I don’t know. And this small gym bag of hundreds that he keeps in some safe place that he keeps changing all the time. I got something like that myself—escape cash. Just in case some cop does something that could mean something that we wouldn’t like at all.”

  “Mean something like get arrested?” Farrier said.

  Cistaro nodded. “Exactly,” he said, bringing a forkful of pasta to his mouth. “But by the time I think of that, I don’t know where he is tonight, ‘Where the hell’s Arthur? Did he maybe hear something on the radio today, tonight, that would make him ta
ke off? Maybe he did. I’ll turn on BZ and see.’ But of course the time I do that, some asshole is on the air talkin’ about hockey.”

  “Would it be on CNN?” Stoat said. “Either CNBC or that? Lily has CNBC on all the time, on the big set in the study, where she is, she works at home, and I know it’s also news in addition tah the stock market. CNN’s got two channels, I think—one’s headlines all the time.”

  Cistaro shook hs head. “Nah, I doubt it,” he said. “If it was one of Arthur’s private actions gettin’ sideways on him, I doubt it would be big enough to get on CNN.” He finished his second helping and drank some wine. Then he sat back in his chair, contentment on his face, and clasped his hands over his belly. He shook his head. “Hafta hand it to you, Darren—for a redneck cracker boy, best a man’d hope from you’s a good seat at a NASCAR race and some Elvis gittar music, no chance of a decent meal ’less you go for ham an’ grits, but you sure do cook up one mean Italian meal.” He beamed at Stoat. “How come you took it up?”

  “Waal,” Stoat said, “Ah figured if Italians do it, cain’t be awl that hard.”

  Cistaro sucking at his teeth said “Uh huh” and studied him for a moment, deciding whether to take offense, before shifting his eyes to Farrier. “You been talkin’ to this boy, Jack? He learn this new fresh talk from you?” Farrier smiled. “Yes, you have, Jack, I can tell. You’ve been tellin’ him bad stories about the Italian people, puttin’ bad thoughts in his head.”

  He grinned, but there was no fun in his eyes. Nodding slightly—“ ’bout how we’re all, what did you call us? ‘vicious animals,’ last time we’re here? Now I ask you, is that nice? Is that any way to act? Undermine me with my friend here, when I’m tryin’ tah help you out? I tell you, I don’t think it is, and that just for doin’ that, doin’ to me what you did, I might decide to make you wait a while, before I give you the names and addresses of those two evil faggots, payin’ unscrupulous foreigners to rob graves, steal valuable artifacts and national historic treasures, ancient Greece and places like that, and import them for snooty rich folks who display them in their homes.”