“Of course not.”
“Will you be having any?” he asked.
It was a miracle what a priestly blessing can bestow. “Sure.”
I expected him to hand me his glass, but he pulled another one from his coat pocket. “You never know who you might run into,” he murmured by way of an explanation as he slipped me the glass and bag underneath the table.
I kept the whisky off my pants and into the small glass, then returned the bag. I checked to make sure Father Collins wasn’t looking and chugged. “Good,” I gasped as harsh heat filled my throat and chest. “What is it?”
“Single malt,” Pearse answered before quickly swallowing his refill. He looked to see if I wanted another but I demurred. Pearse, on the other hand, downed his third.
“See, people around here stick to themselves,” he said, almost leaving me behind. “But the Father asked me to talk to you so I don’t mind saying that around these parts most people didn’t know what to make of Sean Kelly.”
Pearse leaned back in his chair and almost disappeared into his tweed overcoat. “They knew what to make of his father, a born thief if there ever was. But people felt different about Sean even though he ran the street from the time he wore knickers. He was surely up to no good, but then, you could say that about most of the boys around here. Hell, you could say it about everyone in this room.” He sighed. “Everyone thought he’d end up right alongside the rest of us,” he said absently.
“What do you mean?”
Pearse poked his head out of the coat, a blank look on his face. “Nothing in particular. He was a very bright boy though he never went to school. People hoped he would outgrow his mischievousness. Use his God given intelligence for something useful.”
“Isn’t it stretching things to call the Avengers mischievous?”
Pearse rubbed his nose. “I’m not referring to them.” There was no mistaking the disgust in his voice. “No one understood Sean’s behavior as far as they were concerned. People were surprised when he went in that direction. Our neighborhood wants no trouble with the Jewish people. People might call them names, throw the occasional stone. But most everyone here, I’ll tell you, fought against the damn Nazis. I personally know people on both sides of the pond who died with great bravery. No one wanted anything to do with Sean when he started with his brown uniforms. Except those dummies who looked up to him.”
“Like Blue?”
“Not exactly. Blue isn’t quite as stupid as the rest.” He cackled, looked around the room, and carefully poured himself another shot. Pearse continued to describe the scorn the neighborhood held for the Avengers. He told me stories confirming what I’d heard at the Yeshiva, and even added a couple of new ones. But when I asked how the group financed itself he grew guarded, and even more so when I pressed for details about Kelly’s pre-Avenger life.
I motioned for another shot, gulped it down, and looked around the rapidly emptying room. I’d talked to Pearse longer than I’d realized. In the interim, Father Collins had mixed his way back to Deirdre and the two were engaged in a quiet conversation. Pearse offered me another drink but I refused. When I told him how much I appreciated his willingness to speak with me he realized I was about to leave.
“Now don’t you go talking to the Father about our nips, you hear?” he said, handing me a couple of breath mints.
“Are you kidding? I’d like to visit you at your store and do it again.” I popped the mints into my mouth. “I know a homeboy when I drink with one.”
“Well, I would certainly enjoy the company. I want you to know that nobody wanted or liked what those Avengers were doing.” He lowered his voice, “Forgive my blasphemy, but perhaps there was a bit of relief with the boy’s death. It’s an honor to fight for what’s rightfully yours. But to use violence for enjoyment, to bully, well, no one in this neighborhood is comfortable with that.”
I started to ask Pearse about the church’s visitors, but decided to leave well enough alone. Instead I thanked him for his time, his single malt, and left the table while he snuck himself another drink.
Father Collins saw me rise from the table and waved me over. Deirdre, her forehead’s fair skin furrowed, silently nodded her greeting.
“Well, Mr. Jacob,” Brady asked, “was Mr. Pearse able to shed a bit of light?” There was no mistaking his tense undertone.
“Did Joshua blow the walls away?”
“Ah, do you hear that, Deirdre? Perhaps our church is beginning to rub off on our friend, here.” He smiled ingratiatingly. “Deirdre was worried that I’d falsely raised your hopes.”
“No, not at all. Mr. Pearse was quite forthcoming. I appreciate your help.”
“No appreciation necessary.” His eyes scanned the room. “If I can be useful again, don’t hesitate to call. Right now I have to close up, so if you will excuse me?”
“Sure.” I turned toward Deirdre. “Would you like me to walk you home?”
She smiled but the creases never left her face. “I think not. I want to stay around to help.”
“Sure.”
“Mr. Jacob, Matthew, I’m pleased that tonight was helpful. I don’t know what you must think of me since our conversation this afternoon, but I’m certain the Rabbi you work for only did what he thought necessary. I want you to know that.”
“You sound like there won’t be another opportunity to tell me?”
Deirdre looked startled. “That’s not what I meant at all. I rather hope we’ll meet again.”
“I’m sure we will. I guess I’ll leave you to your work.”
When I got to my car I sat and smoked a cigarette. Aside from my time with the Avengers and my depression about Rebecca, the more information I accumulated the less I understood. My instincts screamed “Sharks!” but I still hadn’t found the ocean.
I finished the cigarette, fingered through the ashtray, found a roach. I was tired, but unwilling to go home and back to sleep. I hoped a ride around town would clear some of the fog.
I drove aimlessly for about a half hour before I started toward my house. If I hadn’t been trying to guess about things outside of my vision I might have seen what was happening under my nose. Maybe.
I don’t know how long the car without headlights had been following and, when I first noticed, I remained unconcerned. There was nothing like quality work. When the next car filled the lane on my left, my first thought wasn’t about danger, but about the problems of driving on the Jamaicaway when cars traveled side by side. I squeezed over to give the car on my left room to pass, but when it got to my fender the car slowed down and just kept pace. I took my foot off the accelerator but jammed it back as the car without headlights rapidly moved up behind. The car on my left now drove up parallel and I saw an arm waving behind a dark passenger window.
Still stupid, I thought he was trying to signal so I started to unroll my window. Suddenly the waver’s window opened and I stared into the long frightening barrel of a Magnum. And Blue’s face behind it. Day-late Matt was back in town: I hadn’t brought my gun. I left the window where it was and pounded the gas pedal into the floor. Barely in time, as my rear-door window shattered pelting me with spraying glass. I thought about jumping the brakes but the unlit car was crawling up my ass.
The two just kept pace while I fought my panic and kept the corner of my eye on the car to my left. It pressed me closer to the inside of the road as we banked down the rounded curve and steep hill leading to the abandoned Bynner Street ice skating rink. For a moment I thought I could make the turnoff, but my hope was smashed as Blue’s car drew up alongside. Again I crushed the accelerator. It bought me a second or two, but not enough time to get to Bynner. When I saw Blue prepare for another shot, I slammed the brake and felt the crunch of the car behind. I floored the gas pedal and wheeled sharply to the right. I hoped I’d traveled enough distance to avoid the hill that lined the right side of the J-way. If I hadn’t I’d be one dead dumb detective.
I had. At least most of it. As my car bounce
d over the curb, the passenger side lifted up until I thought I’d overturn. But my tires held long enough for me to drag the steering wheel left, race down to the base of the hill, and listen thankfully to the screech of brakes and rubber somewhere in the background.
The moment my tires hit the gravel of the ball field’s parking lot, I spun sideways in the direction I thought they’d be approaching. I stood on the brake then scrambled out the door using the car for cover. It was harder to quash my hysteria in the open air and, for a moment, I couldn’t decide which way to run. Then a slug ripped into the side of my car. I bolted across Bynner to the back of the rink and threw myself down the hill, rolling to the bottom. I wasted no time burrowing into a long row of huge bushes off to the left, oblivious to the thorns tearing at myskin. I hunched down like a catcher, fighting my panic. If they noticed a trembling bush, I’d be dead meat.
I spotted four men huddling along the Bynner side of the skating rink. For a second I wondered if I’d made a mistake not breaking into the abandoned building. Then one of the men smashed through some rotting plywood and climbed inside. The other three stood waiting and talking, but the only voice I heard was Blue’s.
“He’s fucking around here somewhere and I want him…”
One of the men kept peering down in my direction but the moon was well hidden and so, apparently, was I. I watched the man inside the rink tear more thin plywood off a window and climb back outside. My knees were starting to lock but I kept myself rigid and held my breath while the men regrouped.
“Why stop now?” Blue pleaded loudly. “We spread out and find the cocksucker. I told him to stay away from the neighborhood but the lousy prick wouldn’t listen. I want to find him and blow him away once and for all. Jesus, you told me I’d get a chance.”
If they continued to look, I’d be found. Simple as that. But I had pulled an ace. Despite Blue’s whining. Slowly, each of the shadowy figures turned away from the slope and started back toward Bynner. Just when I thought I could unkink my legs, Blue dashed away from the rest, ran back to the top of the hill, and blindly fired into the bush on my immediate right. I felt like a pheasant: stay still and die, fly and die—the ultimate rock or hard place. I gritted my teeth and waited for his next attempt.
But caught another break. One of the other men came up behind Blue and knocked him to the ground with a short sweet forearm. I damn near cheered. Then the man knelt, picked up the gun, grabbed Blue by his pea coat, and dragged him to his feet. This time when they started for Bynner, the Forearm kept hold of Blue while I held onto my nerves.
And kept on holding until I heard the sound of car ignitions. I wanted to move but I was still scared. I breathed rapidly, quietly. I listened to the roar of what I hoped was their engines, and waited in my prickly hideout for another five. Finally, when the only thing audible was the distant hum of traffic, I scratched my way out of the thorns. Down on my hands and knees, I started to shake uncontrollably. Every time I caught a near-death experience I rediscovered just how much I wanted to live. I wished I could remember it when I was depressed.
As soon as the panic subsided, I realized I was an easy target if they had left anyone behind. I quickly pressed my belly to the ground and crept up the hill. I crawled to the top then hurled my body through the newly opened rink window. I heard something move in the dank, pitch-black structure, and for a nauseating moment thought I’d just rolled into my grave—a fucking cavernous abandoned ice skating rink. And I didn’t even root for the Bruins.
Suddenly, soft fur brushed against my face and the screaming in my head quieted enough for me to hear the purr of a mangy cat. I stood up to a chorus of hungry meows, wished I could oblige, but instead felt my way to the Bynner side of the abandoned rink. I peered through gashes in the building’s side. No one was walking around, and there were no parked cars other than my own.
I went to the hole, climbed out, and walked carefully back to the car. I still had the shakes but forced myself to inspect the damage. The rear fender was ripped from the body where I’d been rammed, the bumper mangled. Shattered glass blanketed the interior and I briefly looked for the offending bullet until I realized Blue’s shot had blown through both rear door windows. The driver’s door was dented from the shot it had taken, and I spent a moment trying to pry the bullet free. When it refused to budge, I did. Hanging around was starting to dent my control.
As soon as my hands were steady enough to grip the steering wheel I climbed inside, started the car, and pulled away. I slowly drove to a well-lit street and limped toward my house. This time my eyes were wide open for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. It wasn’t difficult to do; I couldn’t close them.
Edges of panic returned when I realized they could be waiting for me. So instead of home I aimed toward Manuel’s Auto-Caribe where I left the car in front of his metal shuttered garage doors. I stuffed the key in the ashtray. Manuel would know what to do.
Which was more than I could say for myself. I had keys to Boots’s apartment and could go to ground there if I wanted. I didn’t want. The panic was sharing space with a flicker of anger and I loathed the idea of hiding, of leaving my home vulnerable to hit men.
I ducked through backyards between the Auto-Caribe and my building, careful to stay quiet and out of sight. I scoured the nearby streets searching for suspicious cars or persons but saw nothing unusual. I finally snuck into my alley hugging the back walls as I approached my apartment. With a sick stomach and a fresh jolt of dread I saw a light that hadn’t been on when I left. Stifling a powerful urge to run, I crept on my hands and knees across the gravel, determined to peek in through the kitchen window. I squatted, lifted my head, and looked inside. Unfortunately, Cheryl chose exactly that moment to look outside and scream loud enough to heart-stop us both.
I let myself in the office door and quickly ran my hand down the open wooden Venetian slats. Cheryl came running, looked for the light switch, and nudged it on with her elbow.
“Turn it off,” I ordered curtly.
I had just enough time to see her frightened look of apprehension. “Look,” Cheryl explained, “I didn’t break in here. A really sweet guy with beautiful eye shadow let me in.” Her laugh was forced.
“Not now,” I said in a low, tight voice. “There might be trouble. We have to shut all the lights and pull the blinds.”
We went from room to room in what felt like a methadrine stoked tour of my apartment. I was tempted to point out various items; like the fucking gun hanging on the back of a kitchen chair.
“Which room should we stay in?” Cheryl asked in a whisper.
“Here.” I pointed to the enamel-top kitchen table.
“Why the kitchen? The living room is further from the alley?”
“Yeah, but I want to hear if someone comes down the back way. Wait a second while I make a call.” Two calls, actually. One to Charles thanking him for letting Cheryl in, then asking him to throw all the locks on the front door, including the bolt that only opened from inside. I heard him talk to someone and for a frantic moment thought he was held hostage. The frantic relaxed when Richard came on the line.
“Matt, Richard here. Charles is shutting things down. What’s going on?”
“I hope nothing, but there’s a possibility some people may come looking for me. I don’t think they’ll bother anyone else, but I wouldn’t urge you to stick around.”
“Don’t be absurd. Do you need any help?”
“I could use eyes in the front of the building, but if you do that you have to stay dark. They’re pros.”
“What should we be looking for?”
“Rich, you don’t have to do this.”
“I know. Charles is back and the front door is secure.”
“Good. Look for anyone eyeballing the buildings, or cars just cruising the street. Call me even if you think it’s a paranoid flash. Also, let me know if anyone legit goes in or out.”
“Should we warn Lou? The rest of the building?”
I took a moment to think. “Not yet. I’m not sure anyone is really coming.”
“These the goons who worked you over?”
“One of them.” I felt Cheryl’s eyes comb my face. “But it’s not the same group.”
“Okay. Let us know if you need anything else.”
“Rich, thanks.” I dialed Julius’s number and let it ring a long time before giving up. Cheryl had disappeared into the bathroom and I slumped onto one of the kitchen chairs. When I opened my eyes she was standing at my side, washcloth in cast.
“You’re filthy and all scratched up.”
“Here, give me that. You’ll get your cast wet.” I took the warm cloth, wiped my hands and face, then lit a cigarette. Cheryl walked around the table and sat down across from me. Despite the closed blinds, amber streaks from the grocery store’s anticrime lights leaked into the room casting a dark orange glow on her smooth black face.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “How did you drive?”
“My mother brought me. You turn this place into a bunker and ask me questions? First things first, White Man. What’s going on? How do you know it wasn’t the Avengers?”
Her energy rattled against my self-control. “I get the feeling that if you could write, you’d have a notebook open.”
“If I could write I wouldn’t be here.”
She saw something cross my face because she amended, “Might not be here.”
I recounted Simon’s call and my evening’s activity. Somehow the last half overshadowed the first.
“Why are you so certain they weren’t Avengers?” Cheryl asked. “You saw Blue.”
“I don’t believe they could coordinate an attack like that. The Avengers are a bunch of fucking losers. Anyhow, Blue wasn’t the Big Enchilada.”
“You think since you trashed the Avengers you have a national supremacy group looking for revenge?”
“I think it’s possible.”
The Complete Matt Jacob Series Page 72
