Walk on the Wild Side

by Bob Mayer

  Kane was puzzled. “For what?”

  “Getting me on the Task Force,” Strong said. “If you hadn’t talked to your Uncle Nathan, I’d never have been part of it.”

  “It was obviously a smart move on their part,” Kane said. “Since you’re the guy who broke it open.”

  “We all did,” Strong said, “but anyway, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I owe you one,” Strong said.

  “There’s a lot of that going around,” Kane said.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Let’s check out the headline,” Kane said as he spotted the Kid through the windows turning in to the door on Washington. When he clearly saw the youngster, he abruptly exited the booth and met his newspaper delivery halfway across the diner. “What happened to you?”

  The Kid sported a burgeoning bruise on the right side of his face and he was walking gingerly. He extended the Times. “Got your paper.”

  “Sit down,” Kane said, escorting him to the booth and letting him slide into his spot. Kane grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat at the end. “What happened, Ryan?”

  The Kid tried to smile. “Hey, you know my name. Morticia tell you?”

  “Who did this to you?” Kane pressed.

  “Just ran into some wrong people.” He glanced at Strong on the other side of the booth. “Nothing really. You know these streets. Sometimes they get rough.”

  “Who were they?” Strong asked.

  The Kid shook his head. “Man, you know I can’t be ratting on people. I wouldn’t last a day out there.”

  “Riley,” Kane called out as his cousin was headed to the kitchen.

  Dave Riley came over. “Yes, sir?”

  “Take Ryan to the kitchen. Have Thao check him out. Then escort him home.”

  Kane stood up and offered a hand to the Kid, who slid out of the booth, trying to hide a grimace. Kane leaned close to his cousin: “Find out what happened. I want names and details.”

  Riley nodded as he helped the Kid into the kitchen where Thao already had his med kit out. Kane returned to the booth.

  “I told you he’s living on the edge,” Strong said.

  “I’ve offered him a job,” Kane said.

  “And?”

  “He doesn’t want it.”

  Strong nodded. “The street’s dangerous but it’s also addictive. Odds are he’s going to end badly.”

  “I’ll keep trying.”

  “Maybe he needs more than a job,” Strong said. “All these kids on the street, they’re broken.”

  “Yeah? And how do they get fixed?” Kane asked.

  “That’s the million-dollar question,” Strong said. “I don’t pretend to have the answer.”

  “I’ll take care of his immediate problem,” Kane said.

  “Why are you sending your cousin with him?” Strong asked. “The Kid said it was dangerous.”

  “He’s going into the Army this fall,” Kane said. “Time for him to grow up a little. Plus, he’s half-Irish, half-Puerto Rican. You think someone with that lineage can’t handle himself on the streets?”

  “Yeah, all right. Just don’t kill anyone, Kane,” Strong said, semi-seriously.

  “I won’t. Promise. I’ve got enough people trying to kill me at the moment.”

  “I don’t want to know, right?”

  “Nope.”

  “How’s that girl doing?” Strong asked.

  Kane was lost. “’Girl’?”

  “The one who was tricking out of that apartment on Gramercy. Who ended up in the hospital. Who you paid to have guarded overnight and then you helped from her disappear early the next morning. That girl.”

  “Oh. Sarah. Yeah. She’s good. She’s far from the city, got a real job. Settling in.”

  “So she found an answer.” Strong glanced at the kitchen door. “Think the kid would want to be far from the city?”

  Kane shook his head. “I think he came to the city to get away from wherever that was. Savor your win, Omar.” Kane unfolded the paper, realizing he’d forgotten to pay the Kid as he did so. The headline read:

  SUSPECT IN ‘SON OF SAM’ MURDERS ARRESTED IN YONKERS;

  Police Say .44 Caliber Weapon Is Recovered

  He turned it so Strong could read. “Enjoy.”

  “Yeah,” Strong said. He slid out of the booth. “But first, I got to get out to the 109 and help shut things down. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he admonished Kane.

  “That would really limit me.”

  “Asshole,” Strong said, but with a smile. “You take care of those youngsters, both of them, okay?”

  “I will.”

  Morticia intercepted Strong before he made it out the door and gave him another kiss on the cheek. Then she bee-lined for Kane. “What happened to Ryan?”

  “Thao’s working on him. Then Riley will escort him to his place and find out.”

  “Jesus, Kane. You’re sending Riley? Are you busy?”

  “Actually, I do have a lot on my plate at the moment. Riley will let me know what’s going on. Then I’ll take care of it.”

  “You better.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Morticia backtracked. She nodded at the counter. “I like Mac. He’s a character. But he needs some clean clothes.”

  “He’s homeless,” Kane said. “I got him—”

  Morticia didn’t wait to hear about his getting Mac and Wile-E a room at the Soldiers and Sailors Club for a night. “I can collect his stuff. Wash it. I’ll have Wile-E help.” She walked off, determined and with a plan.

  Kane looked at his now cool coffee. He went into the kitchen. The Kid’s shirt was off and Thao was probing his side. The Kid wasn’t just wincing; there were tears.

  “They didn’t have to do this,” the Kid sniffled.

  Kane shot Thao an inquisitive glance. Riley was standing at the grill, taking over for Thao while he attended to the Kid.

  “He means the world is a bad place,” Thao clarified to Kane. “Bruised ribs. Maybe cracked. Nothing that can be done about that except rest and time. Put your shirt on.” Thao tossed it to the Kid.

  The Kid hissed in pain as he pulled it on and buttoned it halfway up.

  “You were kicked while you on the ground, correct?” Thao asked.

  The Kid nodded, and used the arm on his good side to wipe away the tears.

  “Next time, fight back,” Thao said. “People who will kick you when you are down, will not stop. You are lucky your friends came along.”

  “They shouldn’t have done it,” the Kid said.

  Thao’s voice was cold. “They did. That is reality.”

  The Kid glanced at Kane for sympathy, but he made sure his face was impassive. “Riley,” Kane said. “Make sure he gets home all right.”

  “Yes, sir.” Riley handled the spatula to Thao. The two youngsters exited the kitchen door.

  “Dai Yu,” Thao said, flipping an omelet.

  “He say anything about who did it to him?”

  “He did not.”

  “What’s the matter?” Kane asked.

  “He is weak,” Thao said. “He cannot live the way he is living and be weak. He must make a decision.”

  “Right,” Kane said. “No one called for me this morning?”

  “Were you expecting someone to call?” Thao asked.

  “No.” Kane looked to the right and Lucky was staring at him. Then the dog laid its head back down and closed his eyes.

  “Smart dog,” Kane said.

  “What are you going to do?” Thao asked.

  “About what? I’ve got the Navajo and the mob contract to deal with. Right now, I’d say the priority is the latter as they don’t have a code. I don’t want some nut-job shooting me in the back of the head as I’m walking down the street.”

  “What can you do to preempt that?”

  “I’ve got to talk to a guy named Fat Tony Salerno.”

  “That does
not sound promising, although it is better than Crazy Joe or some of the other names I read in the paper.”

  “Sofia says he’s a reasonable guy; for a mobster. I’m meeting him at one.”

  “I can close early,” Thao said. “I do not think you should go alone.”

  Kane shook his head. “No need for you to close early. I’m going to talk.”

  Thao’s face indicated what he thought of that. “There was someone who walked by a little while ago a couple of times. Wearing red sweats. He looked in the diner, but did not enter. He was disreputable.”

  “Lots of those around here,” Kane pointed out.

  “He was of particular notice,” Thao said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I felt a threat.”

  Kane took that seriously because Thao had been the best point man he’d ever worked with.

  Thao continued. “I was about to go outside and check, but then young Ryan arrived and I had to tend to him.” Thao nodded toward the small window in the door to the street. “The man is no longer around, but he might be lurking in the neighborhood.”

  “I appreciate the warning.”

  “Dai Yu.” Thao pointed at Lucky. “You do realize you have a trained war dog at your disposal?”

  “You make a valid point,” Kane said. “Can I borrow Wile-E? Riley’s already gone for the day.”

  “It is not hard to close up,” Thao said. “Morticia and I can handle it.”

  “Thanks,” Kane said. He went back into the diner and grabbed his map case.

  “Hey.” Mac was waving from the far end of the counter.

  Kane walked over. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for the chow,” Mac said. “Why do you care about Makin Island?”

  “It’s nothing,” Kane said. “It came up about a guy I recently met who was there. I wanted to find out more about him.”

  “What’s the name?”

  “Crawford.”

  Mac shook his head. “Never heard of him, but we didn’t have much to do with First Battalion. Most of the Raiders, those still alive and kicking, kinda keep in touch. I hear they even hold reunions, not that I see any need to sit around and tell war stories with old geezers. I could ask around, if you want? There weren’t many of us. If this guy was in First Bat, then people would know him, especially if he was one of the Makin fellows.”

  “If you could get me some info, I’d be grateful,” Kane said.

  “The waitress,” Mac said. “What’s her deal? She’s kinda nosey.”

  “It’s a persona,” Kane said. He paused. “She’s a nice person. Let her help you out.”

  “Hmm,” Mac said.

  Kane gathered Wile-E and Lucky and headed out to meet Fat Tony, trying to be grateful it wasn’t Crazy Joe.

  WESTCHESTER COUNTY, NEW YORK

  Toni Marcelle stood next to the trunk as Yazzie opened it, revealing Dale’s body jammed inside, along with a shovel and some other items Yazzie had picked up during the drive out of the city.

  “The wounds are confusing,” Yazzie said. “Kane used a gun, a small caliber one, from behind. A single shot that did little damage. The fatal wound is a knife in the chest. Using a gun is not honorable but it doesn’t make sense to shoot someone from behind, then drop the gun.” He began taking off his clothes. “Unless there was another party involved.”

  Toni was staring at the body. The chest was covered with dried blood. The eyes were dull. She didn’t really notice when Yazzie was naked.

  “Don’t look at it,” Yazzie said, indicating the body. “You don’t want his spirit to come back to you.”

  “Do you believe that?” she asked.

  He pulled out a bag of ash and began smearing it over his body. “Do I believe it?” He nodded. “As much as I believe anything. It is what I was raised with. Do you believe in the man nailed to a cross?”

  Toni was having trouble averting her gaze from the trunk. “I think I did, when I was younger. Too much has happened since then.”

  “You lost your faith,” Yazzie said. “An easy thing to do in the modern world. My people’s beliefs are more cogent because they are rooted in the earth and the sky.” He grabbed the shovel and disappeared into the woods, to the small clearing where they’d buried Johnson less than a day ago, leaving Toni with the body.

  She walked away, fumbling in her purse for a pack of cigarettes. She lit one. It took longer than she’d expected for the grave to be finished, but she’d never waited on a grave-digging before so her frame of reference was lacking. When he returned, she did notice his nakedness; his tall, lean body, well-muscled. There were several scars on his torso.

  “You were in the war?” she asked. “You said something about it when we first met.”

  “I was. Vietnam was the curse of our generation. Whether you fought or didn’t. It touched everyone. I have no respect for the cowards who fled to Canada. They should never have been pardoned. They made their choice and it was against our country. It’s an insult to all who served and sets a dangerous precedent. Duty must be paramount above all else.” He lifted Dale, cradling the body in his arms. He disappeared into the woods.

  The burial was faster. Yazzie returned, grabbed a towel and wiped off the ash. Then dressed. He pulled his satchel out and removed a skin containing a liquid and two shot glasses. “We must have a toast to the dead.” He poured a small quantity into each glass, handing one to Toni.

  “What is it?” Toni asked.

  “An old concoction that has been passed down among the wise ones of my people. It will help keep the spirit of Dale from haunting us.”

  “What about my father’s spirit?” Toni asked. She indicated the direction Yazzie had gone with the hand holding a smoldering cigarette. “Is my father buried there?”

  “No.”

  “But he’s dead, right?”

  “Drink up,” Yazzie said.

  Toni downed it and grimaced. “It better work.”

  Yazzie paused, the glass halfway to his lips. “Kane really cares about you, doesn’t he?”

  “You wouldn’t know it by the way he reacted this morning.”

  “The two of you weren’t physically involved,” Yazzie said, “but he loves you.”

  “We go back a long time. Love?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. He wasn’t there when I needed him the most.”

  “Was that his fault? Could he have been?”

  “He was gone,” Toni said. “After his son died, he took off and no one knew where he was for five years. That’s a long time to disappear.”

  “It is,” Yazzie said. “But I can tell by the way he looks at you that he’d die for you.”

  Toni dropped the cigarette and crushed it with the sole of her high heel. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

  Yazzie smiled; glass still paused. “I hope not.”

  Toni frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Yazzie tossed the contents of the shot glass to the side. “Because we’re going to find out how much he cares about you.”

  Toni blinked, swayed slightly. “What?”

  Yazzie caught her as she collapsed.

  7

  Thursday Afternoon,

  11 August 1977

  GREENWICH VILLAGE,

  MANHATTAN

  Lucky didn’t pull on the leash, but she didn’t hang back. She was a step ahead, head turning back and forth, surveying her surroundings as she led Wile-E and Kane into Washington Square Park.

  “Thanks for asking me to come with you, Cap’n,” Wile-E said.

  “It’s not a pleasure stroll,” Kane said. “I’ve got to meet someone in a mafia hangout on Sullivan Street and Thao was a bit worried.”

  “Yeah, but I owe you. And getting Lucky . . .” Wile-E didn’t finish.

  Kane surveyed the park as they entered. It wasn’t a place where people came to play or picnic or bring their kids. The Arch was a destination for numerous dealers and the NYPD unofficially kept outside its boundaries, making it a rough and tumble pla
ce. It was obvious the Sanitation Department also stayed clear, given the amount of garbage and dumped furniture. The burnt out remains of a school bus was under some trees struggling to grow in this patch of blighted nature in the midst of South Manhattan. New York University bordered the park on the east side and students were often customers of the dealers who infested it.

  Given Kane’s recent troubles, Native Americans were on his mind. He paused. “This was once an Indian Village. There was a creek running through the middle of it. Then the Dutch came and took it. But because we’re north of Wall Street, which was where the barricade that protected them was built, the Dutch gave it to a group of what they called half-freed blacks, in order to have a buffer between them and hostile Indians. Kind of the way the Romans would settle people outside their forts.”

  “How can you be half-free?” Wile-E asked.

  “The people who got the land weren’t slaves, but they had to pay a tithe to the Dutch,” Kane said. “In essence it was a company town. But the half not free part was that any kids they had were born into slavery and would be taken from their parents when they were of age to be able to work.”

  “You’re shitting me,” Wile-E said, as he shook the leash and Lucky began to move. They went under the trees into the park. “Would make you think twice about knocking up your old lady.”

  “Indeed,” Kane said. He stopped and pointed at a large elm tree in the northwest corner. “Some think that’s a tree from which they used to hang people, but that’s just legend. The actual tree was elsewhere. Anyway, there was a slave revolt in 1712 and—”

  “I didn’t even know there were slaves here in the city,” Wile-E said as they passed the tree. “Thought that was a southern thing. Plantations and all that.”

  “Slaves made up twenty percent of the city in the early seventeen hundreds,” Kane said. “I had a priest in high school, Brother Benedict, a Jesuit, who was always telling us interesting stuff about the history of New York.” Kane pointed down. “The city eventually bought the land and used it for a potters field.”

  “A what?”

  “Graveyard for the poor. Probably twenty-thousand bodies under us.”