Killing Them Softly

by George V. Higgins

  The Cadillac stopped for a red light at Arlington Street.

  “I’m not putting the hammer on Mike,” Barry said. “He’s just expensive, is all.”

  The light changed and Steve followed the Cadillac, turning right on Arlington Street. A man in a light gray Chesterfield, carrying a briefcase, crossed the street in front of the LTD, walking fast and catching up with a tall albino man who wore a lavender cape lined with red satin, and platform shoes. Steve Caprio changed lanes to the right and closed the distance between the LTD and the Cadillac.

  “Looks like he’s going down the Envoy,” Steve said. “Must’ve got a cheap one this time, gotta pay for it himself. No, I was just saying, ah, it’s the same thing. You just fuck around too much. You did something, you could get something. You don’t see me or Jackie going up to Maine and being stupid like that, chasing guys around when they’re staying with their families and stuff.”

  “Well,” Barry said, “he wasn’t gonna pay. He took the dough off of Bloom and then he wasn’t gonna pay it back. Bloom hadda get his dough outa the guy. You can’t go around letting guys get away with stuff like that.”

  The Cadillac moved into the left lane at the Statler Hilton and turned left.

  “No, he’s not going down the Envoy,” Steve said. “He’s going down the Terrace. She must have some dough after all. Sure, and Bloom gets his dough, and you get, what’d Bloom give you for that shitty thing?”

  “Six hundred,” Barry said. “I needed the dough. Ginny was starting to get the caps, there, and that was the first time I hadda pay.”

  “Six hundred,” Steve said. “So, you only lost about thirty-two, forty-two hundred on it. Bloom give you what Mike cost you?”

  “Nope,” Barry said.

  The Cadillac went into the Terrace Hotel garage.

  “Nope,” Steve said. “You ask him for it?”

  “Nope,” Barry said.

  “Sure,” Steve said. He parked the LTD half a block from the garage and turned off the ignition. “So, you almost go to jail again, and you spent on that what I spent on this car. That’s what I mean. Sooner or later you’re gonna have to start picking your spots, like I do. Otherwise you’re gonna spend the rest of your life tryin’ to get out of things that you shouldn’t’ve got into in the first place, and you’re never gonna have nothin’.”

  “Look,” Barry said, “okay, you got all this talk and shit for me, lemme ask you this: you’re doing so good, how come you’re still going out and beating guys up, huh?”

  “It’s not the money,” Steve said. “You wanna see how much money I got on me, right this minute?” He moved on the seat, reaching for his wallet.

  “No,” Barry said.

  Steve relaxed. “I got twenty-one hundred bucks on me right this minute,” he said. “I don’t owe nickel one on this car and I sent Rita’s check to her the other day. No, I’m doing a favor for a guy. This thing come up, Jackie’s done some things for me when I couldn’t do them.…”

  “Jackie don’t beat guys up,” Barry said.

  “No,” Steve said, “but there’s things that Jackie does do, you know? There’s other things inna world that guys do besides going around and doing things to other guys, Barry. You wouldn’t know that because the only thing you ever thought about was how you could grab a fast hundred and never mind what you’re doing on the long run. Jackie gimme that thing, when he was getting away from the machines he had in the locations on Route 9, there. He didn’t have to do that.”

  “He couldn’t handle it himself, though,” Barry said.

  “No, he couldn’t,” Steve said. “But he didn’t have to give it to me. He didn’t have to say to the guys, ‘Now, I want you to give this thing to Stevie, he’s a good guy.’ But he did. So, if Jackie asks me to do him a favor, and I can get a fast hundred out of it for my dumb brother, I’m gonna do it.”

  “I can use the dough,” Barry said. He lit a Winchester cigar.

  “Why’re you smoking those fucking things?” Steve said.

  “Because they’re not gonna kill me as fast,” Barry said.

  Steve lit an L amp;M. “Well,” he said, “you inhale them, don’t you?”

  “Some times I forget and then I do,” Barry said. “Not very often, though. It’s like swallowing fuckin’ fire when you do it.”

  “Sure,” Steve said, “and you’re not gonna tell me, there isn’t more shit in them’re these.”

  “Shit,” Barry said, “I mean, how long’ve we been smoking?”

  “I started when I was twelve,” Steve said.

  “Okay,” Barry said, “and I was a big asshole then just like I am now, I did everything you told me to do, so I was eleven. So, I mean, I been smoking close to thirty years, it’s probably not gonna make much difference now anyway. Ginny was after me about it, I smoked them Omegas for a while. I did them, and then there was that other kind of thing there.”

  “Between the Acts,” Steve said. “I can’t figure them things out, I never could. They smell just like anything else, when you’re the guy that’s smoking them. But when you’re the guy that’s with the guy that’s smoking them, you’d swear the bastard spent the whole day burning a cat or something.”

  “Yeah,” Barry said. “So, I didn’t have any cigarettes for over a year now, except when I was up in Maine, there. I had about twenny packs of Luckies in them three days, I can tell you that. But except for that, I been using these things. I don’t feel no better, though. I thought I would. Them guys that’re try in’ to put you guys out of business all the time, you think you’re gonna feel better if you stop. Ginny told me that too. But I don’t. I just eat more. Some day they’re gonna say you can’t sell the fuckin’ things any more. That’s what’s gonna happen.”

  “Never happen,” Steve said. “Look, how many guys are there, you think, can go back and forth like you do? Huh? Maybe two. They’re not gonna do that. Shit, they did the same thing with booze. They do it and, well, look, they think they’re taxing them now, right? How much taxes you think me and Jackie pay on that stuff, huh? So you think, they can’t get the taxes on what they’re letting me sell, you think they’re gonna, they’re gonna be able to stop me from selling them? I pay on about one third of the stuff I sell. Just enough so it’s not too fuckin’ easy for them, a kid could catch me doing it. And nobody looks at the bottom of them things. So, and they know I’m doing it, and guys’re doing it, and they know they can’t stop me and they also know, if they didn’t let guys sell them at all, they couldn’t do it.”

  “Jesus,” Barry said, “it takes this fucker long enough, don’t it?”

  “Well,” Steve said, “you got to allow the guy a certain amount of time, you know. I asked Jackie. I said, ‘Great, the guy’s gonna get laid and I’m gonna wait around all night for Christ sake.’ Jackie says, no, he don’t stay out late. He gets what he wants and then he goes home. Never stays out past one.”

  “I still think it’s kind of nice of us,” Barry said, “letting the guy get his rocks off like this. Probably how he stays in so good shape.”

  “He’s a fairly smart bastard,” Steve said.

  “Not tonight he’s not gonna be,” Barry said.

  “Well,” Steve said, “I mean, and that’s the kind of guy he is too, like about the broads, there. He’s not smart enough, he doesn’t marry any of them. Some times he’s not smart. And the same thing with the games there, see? Most of the time he runs a good game and all, and everybody’s happy and that’s when he’s being smart. He’s not making any noise and he’s only taking guys that want to get taken and he don’t kill it, you know? He don’t take them for a lot. And he don’t talk about how he’s taking them. No, he just sometimes, it seems like every so often he’s gotta take everybody for everything, and that’s the same thing.”

  The Coupe de Ville paused at the garage exit and Steve started the LTD. The Cadillac went down a short street and turned west on Kneeland Street. Steve put the LTD in drive and went east on Kneeland Street. In
the rearview mirror of the LTD the taillights of the Cadillac receded into Park Square.

  “You’re sure he’s going home,” Barry said.

  “Yup,” Steve said. “He’s just too fuckin’ cheap, take the Turnpike.”

  Steve kept the LTD in the middle lane on the Massachusetts Turnpike and did not exceed sixty-five miles per hour. The LTD reached the Allston exit in less than seven minutes. Steve threw change into the tollgate basket and turned right on Cambridge Street. At eleven-fifty he parked the LTD beside a hydrant on Sheridan Street in Brighton and shut the ignition off.

  “All right,” he said, “it’s the third brick one down there on the left.”

  “The one with the yellow Chev,” Barry said.

  “The next one,” Steve said.

  “No driveway,” Barry said.

  “Right,” Steve said. “Cheap bastard parks on the street.”

  At nine minutes past midnight the Cadillac moved slowly by the LTD. Steve and Barry eased down on the seats.

  At twenty minutes past twelve the Cadillac moved slowly past the LTD. Steve said: “If he comes by once more I’m gonna move and give him this place.”

  At twelve thirty-five, Trattman walked up Sheridan Street, approaching the LTD from the rear, on the same side of the street. When he got to the rear bumper of the LTD, Steve said: “Now.”

  Barry and Steve got out of the LTD. Barry said: “Right there.”

  Trattman stopped. He frowned. He said: “You guys, you guys …”

  Steve pointed a thirty-eight Chiefs Special, two-inch barrel, at Trattman. He said: “Get inna car, Markie.”

  Trattman said: “You, I haven’t got no money on me, you guys. I don’t, you guys, I haven’t got no money or anything.”

  Barry said: “Get inna fuckin’ car, Markie.” He walked up to Trattman and took him by the right elbow. Trattman resisted slightly. “The car,” Barry said, “you got to get inna fuckin’ car, Markie. You’re gonna get inna car and you know you’re gonna get inna car, so get inna car, for Christ sake.”

  Trattman walked slowly toward the car. He looked toward Steve. Steve held the revolver steady. Trattman said: “Steve, you guys, I didn’t do nothing.”

  Steve said: “Barry, put him inna back and get in with him.”

  Barry pushed Trattman slightly. Trattman said: “I mean it. I didn’t do anything.”

  Barry said: “Markie, we’re gonna have all kinds of time to talk about things. Just get inna car, all right?”

  Trattman bent and entered the car. He got into the back. Steve slid in on the driver’s side and shut the door. He turned in the seat and pointed the revolver at Trattman. Barry got in and managed to close the passenger door from the back seat. Steve handed the revolver to Barry. Trattman said: “Why’re you guys doing this?”

  Steve started the LTD.

  “I could, I could do something, you know,” Trattman said. “You guys’re gonna do something to me, I know some guys and I know the right, I know where to call. You guys oughta think about that.”

  “You maybe already did something,” Barry said. “Maybe that’s why you’re here, because you did something.”

  “I didn’t do nothing,” Trattman said.

  “Well,” Steve said. “Then, you’re all right, Markie.”

  “You got nothing to worry about,” Barry said.

  Steve turned the LTD right on Commonwealth Avenue. He turned left off Commonwealth Avenue onto Chestnut Hill Drive. He took the left fork onto St. Thomas More Drive and the right turn onto Beacon Street.

  Trattman said: “You guys know me. Why’re you guys doing something like this? I thought, you’re doing all right, Steve, for Christ sake. Why’re you doing this?”

  “A guy, some guys asked me to talk to you,” Steve said. “I said I’d talk to you. You know, Markie, talk? Didn’t you used to have me and Barry around in case you wanted us to talk to somebody?”

  “Sure,” Trattman said. “That’s why I can’t understand this, why you guys’re doing this to me.”

  “Because,” Steve said, “for the same reason, we used to do things when you wanted us to. Only this time, we’re doing it for somebody else.”

  Steve took the left at Hammond Street and turned right off Hammond into the parking lot behind the Chestnut Hill shopping center on Route 9. He stopped the LTD in the shadows behind R. H. Steams’.

  Steve got out of the car and unlatched the seatback on the driver’s side.

  Trattman looked at Barry. Barry pointed the revolver at him. “Get outa the car, Markie,” he said.

  Trattman said: “Please, you guys, lemme talk this over, all right?”

  Steve said: “Now, Markie.”

  Trattman said: “I didn’t do nothing.”

  Barry moved the revolver closer to Trattman’s face. “Markie,” he said. “There’s things worse’n talking, you know? Right now all we’re supposed to do is talk to you, and that’s really all we wanna do. You’re liable to get everybody all pissed off, you keep acting like this.”

  Trattman hesitated. Steve reached into the car and grabbed the left shoulder of Trattman’s coat. He pulled. Trattman’s upper torso shifted in Steve’s direction. Steve said: “Markie, you really got to cut this out, all right? You know what can happen to a guy that doesn’t wanna do what people tell him. Now don’t give us a lot of shit, okay? We’re just a couple of guys that’ve got to talk to you and we’re gonna talk to you and you’re gonna talk to us, and that’s all there is to it. Unless you don’t wanna talk or something. Then it’s different, you know? You know how things are. Now come outa the fuckin’ car before I start to get mad.”

  Trattman pulled himself forward and got out of the LTD. Barry got out quickly behind him. Barry handed the revolver to Steve.

  Trattman stood next to the car, his arms and hands close to his sides. He faced Steve. “I didn’t do anything, you guys. I dunno what this’s all about, and if I did something then I would, wouldn’t I? And I really don’t. You guys, you guys’ve gotta believe me.”

  “Move around the backa the car, Markie,” Steve said.

  Trattman raised his hands slightly, palms up.

  “Move, Markie, you fuckin’ little prick,” Steve said. “You tryin’ to make me shoot you, for Christ sake?”

  Trattman moved sideways to the left rear panel of the LTD. He stood with his arms tight against his sides. Steve stood three feet away from him, pointing the revolver. Barry walked around behind Steve and stood at his right.

  “Honest to God,” Trattman said, “Steve, may my mother get cancer, I had nothing to do with it. Honest to God, Steve. You, can’t you tell them that? I know how it looks. I know. But honest to God, Steve, I didn’t.”

  “He didn’t do it,” Barry said. “That what you were gonna ask him, Steve?”

  “Yeah,” Steve said.

  “That’s what we’re supposed to talk to you about, Markie,” Barry said.

  “Yeah,” Steve said, “this thing, you didn’t have nothing to do with it?”

  “Steve,” Trattman said.

  “What thing was that, Markie?” Steve said.

  “Steve,” Trattman said. His voice broke. “Steve, did I ever lie to you? I never told you anything, did I?”

  “Now?” Barry said.

  “Uh huh,” Steve said.

  Barry took two strides toward Trattman, closing his right hand and swinging the fist back in the motion of a softball pitcher. Trattman jerked his hands up toward his face. Barry swung his fist forward and punched Trattman in the groin as Trattman’s torso began to move backward over the trunk of the LTD. When the fist connected, Trattman’s torso stopped and began to move forward quickly. His hands dropped from his face. His mouth gaped. His eyes stared. He exhaled and moaned simultaneously. He clapped his hands to his groin. He doubled over.

  Barry took a short stride backward. He stepped forward on his left foot and brought his right knee up fast. It caught Trattman on the mouth. There was a cracking sound. Trattman’s hea
d snapped up. His body, still in a crouch, sagged off to the left.

  Barry grabbed the lapels of Trattman’s coat and pulled him up. He leaned Trattman against the car. Trattman kept his head down. He cried. He spit blood and pink material from his mouth. He raised his head. He had closed his eyes. His nose and mouth were pulpy and covered with blood. Some blood and pink material were on his coat.

  “What’s this thing you didn’t have nothing to do with, Markie?” Steve said.

  Trattman moved his head once to the left and once to the right. He extended his tongue, then retracted it, tracing the tip of it along his lips. He lowered his head and spat blood and pink material on the pavement of the parking lot.

  “He don’t answer,” Barry said.

  “Must be there’s nobody home or something,” Steve said.

  “Maybe I better knock again,” Barry said. “Make sure.”

  “Yeah,” Steve said.

  “No,” Trattman said, uttering it in a high voice as “Mo.”

  “Shut up, you fuck,” Barry said. He hit Trattman very hard, twice, in the pit of the stomach. Trattman started to double over with the impact of the first punch. The second brought a rush of air from his mouth. Steve and Barry stepped back two paces, quickly. Trattman fell forward on the pavement and vomited half-digested steak and salad, and blood. He lay on his chest, his head resting on its left side. He breathed noisily.

  “Whaddaya think, Steve,” Barry said, “you think he’s through?”

  “Better give him another minute or so,” Steve said. “He might have some more in him.”

  Trattman, his eyes closed, expelled more vomit, blood and pink material from his mouth. It ran down his cheek to the pavement.

  “Give him a try now,” Steve said.

  Barry stepped forward. He picked Trattman up by the collar of his coat, at the nape of the neck. He leaned Trattman against the side of the LTD. Trattman’s head lolled off to the left. His eyes remained closed.

  “Who’re the kids, Markie?” Steve said.