Steel Town

by Richard Whitten Barnes

  ~ * ~

  Intent on not stirring the dormant hulk of the man next to her, she slipped out of bed and found her clothes on the floor where she’d dropped them five hours earlier. She’d fallen asleep, and had no idea of the time, except for the darkness outside of the room’s only window. She made it to the tiny bathroom, closed the door, and flipped on the light switch, causing the exhaust fan to rattle noisily.

  She sat there on the toilet peeing, focused on the chipped purple-paint of her toes, and feeling like shit. The girls had been short with their “rent” this month and this was the usual way of making it up. She finished dressing, flushed the toilet, and emerged to find the john, a large guy, still sleeping.

  “Hey!” She nudged him, receiving a grunt in return. “Hey, asshole! I want my money!”

  The fat shit was on his stomach. He turned his head to her. “Fuck off!”

  She shoved at him with all her hundred-ten pounds, gaining her a derisive snort. He rolled over on his side, showing her the back of his neck.

  “Goddammit! I need that money!” She hurled herself at the hulk that barely budged. He turned to face her, his sneer exposing uneven, discolored teeth.

  “I said, ‘fuck off,’ if you don’t wanna leave here with a busted face.”

  His denims were thrown over the room’s single chair. She snatched them up, and felt the pockets, coming up with only a looney and other loose change. “Damn!”

  Now he was up and on her. “Get you mitts outta my shit, whore!” He slapped her hard on her cheek and temple. She temporarily blacked out, then felt herself being hurled against the door. Her next sensation was the puddle of icy slush in the parking space outside the room. It was still dark. Large flakes of wet snow melted in her hair.

  Above, illuminating the falling snow, a neon sign buzzed and sputtered orange light.

  HAP Y TIMES MOT L

  WEEKLY R TES

  VACANCY

  Marly sat upright in bed, her neck drenched in sweat. The buzzing of that sign still in her ears. It was the dream again, a replay of the event that impelled her to make the break from her Toronto existence.

  She thought the dream would go away, but it persisted in one form or another. That night hadn’t been the first time she’d been roughed up by a john, but she couldn’t seem to get over this one. In the light of day, she felt no shame for the things she’d done to survive. Yes, it was a mistake to leave home, but that was done and now she had better choices to make. If only the dreams would stop.

  Early morning light was beginning to define the still-bare trees against the grey sky outside her window. No use staying in bed. She used the bathroom, got into her waitress uniform, and went down to the kitchen she’d stocked with milk and cereal.

  There, rummaging through the cupboard over the counter, Eddie stood on tiptoes in his underwear, swearing quietly as he pushed aside sundry items. He saw her enter and reacted as if he’d been caught stealing.

  “You all right?” she asked. She found the milk in the fridge and set it out.

  “Yeah!” Eddie’s face had a sheen of perspiration. He drummed his fingers on the counter for a moment before saying, “No. I’m lookin’ for my…medicine. Thought I had some in there.”

  Marly poured Cheerios into a bowl. “You still on something, Eddie?”

  “No…what?”

  “What is it, Eddie? Speed? Crack?”

  “Shit no! I take some stuff for pain, that’s all!” He began to pace.

  She knew he was lying. She’d seen enough of it in here years in Toronto. The girls who shared the apartment were given free pills to start, and then their cost was deducted from their earnings just as soon it was clear they were addicted—and they always were.

  Except for Marly.

  Like the rest of the girls who came through the place over the years, she’d tried the free drugs. For some reason, instead of a euphoric feeling, she’d gotten sick.

  Frank, the “rent collector,” they called him, didn’t like it a bit when she said she didn’t want more, so she began buying the pills like the others, saving them to re-sell when, predictably, one of the other four in the flat was desperate for more before Frank would show up.

  It wasn’t a bad arrangement except for the times when some dude got it into his head that the girl showing her stuff on his laptop was hot enough to pay for real sex. If he paid enough, the creeps who ran the site would set him up. It would sometimes be with Marly. Last October that thing at the Happy Time Motel had set in motion her plan to bolt.

  “Bullshit,” she said to Eddie, who was still pacing, his hands opening and closing. “You’re on something regular-like. Maybe that’s why you owe that guy Savos.”

  “Mind your damn business!” he grumbled and retreated to the basement.

  Marly poured out the milk, and started on the cereal, thinking whatever was going on with Eddie wasn’t likely to have a good outcome for either of them.

  ~ * ~

  The sweaty sheets felt clammy against Eddie’s skin. He’d returned to bed, hoping for some relief from the indescribable feeling of anxiety. There was none.

  He couldn’t continue like this. Savos had given him a chance to pay him back. Surely, he’d stake him for some more oxy until he could pay him for it.

  Eight

  After two days of boning up on the Sault area’s opioid crisis, both Arnold Terry and Andy agreed they’d been unaware of either the magnitude of the problem or how quickly it had developed. They also discovered that, in the past year, local resources had been allocated to the treatment of the addiction with a good degree of success, but little had been done to stem the availability and distribution of illicit opioids, particularly the stronger, synthesized form, fentanyl.

  Interviews with the many professionals and knowledgeable volunteers revealed that there was little more progress to be made if something wasn’t done about this new source.

  A major reason for the success of the Sault Ste. Marie Drug Strategy to date was the recent and wide-spread availability of Narcan spray dispensers. Narcan, a trade name for naloxone hydrochloride is an antidote for opioid overdose to be used when a victim is unresponsive.

  Narcan kits had been made available, free of charge, at several pharmacies around town, and at any hospital, clinic or fire station. The Sault Police Service was issued kits for squad cars.

  Nobody seemed able to say where or how the drugs were coming into the area. “Looks like we’d better start making some contacts on the street,” Terry said.

  “Contacts?” Andy asked. “Whom did you have in mind?”

  “Users, to begin with.”

  “Agreed. Down into the trenches we go!”

  They had heard the Hub Trail, a pedestrian walkway by the river, was a place where drugs were often bought and traded as well as in certain sections of the town center.

  It was almost 6pm. Andy retrieved her weapon from her desk drawer and donned her jacket. “It’s late. Let’s grab some dinner and decide how we split up for a walk around town tonight.”

  ~ * ~

  It had been a dry run; Eddie’s third in two days. The idea was to get customs used to seeing frequent trips in their database. The trips across the International Bridge had not been for naught. He had made important contact with the two dealers for northern Michigan. It was the first time anyone other than Savos’ main supplier, Urban, had met them.

  Eddie was smart enough to know Savos, having a rap sheet, did not want to assume the risk of crossing through customs himself. He needed a flunky for the job, a flunky he was pretty sure he could control. Thus, Eddie’s new job.

  Two days ago, Eddie had shown up at the garage in desperate need of some OxyContin. Savos reluctantly advanced him some “eighties,” the 80mg. form of the prescription drug. He’d had no choice if he wanted Eddie to make the trip across the bridge.

  Eddie approached the Canadian Customs checkpoint for the second time, hoping he’d get the same agent he’d had in the morning. They were
using the excuse of buying auto parts for the shop as a reason for frequent trips into the USA.

  After receiving Edie’s credentials, the agent asked, “Purpose of the trip?” It was a standard question. Eddie was quite aware the agent likely knew he’d been across earlier.

  “Went over for some parts, but they didn’t have ‘em.”

  The agent gave the rear seat a cursory look and returned the ID. “Have a good one, then,” he said.

  Another easy crossing. The more often they did that, the less likely to be checked. Tomorrow he’d have drugs going one way and money coming the other.

  ~ * ~

  Two coffees and a wedge of custard pie came with the check. Terry dug in to the pie, and Andy her coffee. This was Terry’s favorite eatery; while not exactly fine dining, it was a touch pricey, but worth it, and on Albert Street just blocks from his apartment. A bachelor, he rarely ate at home, and knew every restaurant, large and small, within a thirty-mile radius.

  “So, what is it, Arnold?” They had been discussing the areas most likely to yield clues on where this new menace was originating.

  “I’m thinking I snoop around West Queen and the casino area,” he said.

  “Good.” That leaves the river for me.” She placed cash on the table and retrieved her jacket from the back of her chair. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll compare.

  Outside, it was almost dark. She drove the few blocks to St. Marys River Drive and parked where she could look down the walkway along the river where a large lake freighter, its lights ablaze, was exiting the locks downstream.

  Twenty minutes passed before she saw what she was looking for. A silhouetted figure that had been leaning against the rail along the boardwalk was being joined by another from the west. The meeting was an obvious exchange of some kind. The second figure did not stay long, disappearing in the same direction. Andy got out of the Jeep and made her way to within a few feet of the lone figure, a woman, who was already popping something into her mouth and washing it down from a plastic water bottle.

  “Excuse me,” Andy ventured.

  The woman gave a start, having been unaware of Andy’s approach. She replaced the bottle in her bag.

  “Sorry…” Andy began. “I…Did you just make a score?”

  “Who the hell are you?” The woman was in her middle age; could have been any housewife in the city.

  “No one, really. I just want to…you know." Andy felt the woman’s eyes on her, deciding if she could trust this stranger.

  “You need something?” the woman asked.

  “Maybe some oxy?”

  That got no response, and Andy didn’t push it. She waited for a few moments before giving up.

  She’d started for her car a few steps before the woman said, “Wally.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Goes by Wally. Brown jacket with metal buckles. Take a walk down the river. He should still be around.”

  Andy thanked her and followed instructions.

  The walkway was called The Hub Trail, or just “The Hub” by some, and a popular place for walkers and joggers. The temperature had taken a dive, and there were few of any type, but she got lucky. A kid, maybe out of his teens, in a dark leather jacket embellished with shiny buckles and a build much like the one she’d seen, was walking away from someone and coming toward her.

  Andy let him pass, then paused by the railing as if contemplating the river view. She watched him leave the walkway and cross over River Drive to a parked car. In the darkness she couldn’t catch the license number as he drove off, but the green KIA SUV with the dented rear quarter panel shouldn’t be hard to spot some other time.

  It wasn’t a bad start.

  ~ * ~

  Andy was still mad as hell when she arrived at her desk the next morning. Terry hadn’t arrived yet, and it gave her more time to stew. She’d gotten home late the previous night, and went straight to bed, falling asleep after the second page of the novel she’d ben into.

  So, it wasn’t until morning that she noticed Grant had called her house phone around 10pm. She missed him at home, but called his office, getting Earla Shane, his site manager.

  “He’s taken his plane somewhere in the States,” Earla said. “Something about buying property there. You might still catch him at the airport.”

  Andy was speechless, cutting off the call without another word. Whether Grant was doing this for spite, or whether he was simply clueless didn’t matter. Either reason was infuriating.

  Terry showed up with his usual bravado, full of energy and larger than life. “Let’s get cracking, Blake. You look a little worse for wear!”

  “Just stow it, Arnold!”

  “I love you, too. How did you do last night?”

  “You go first.” She poured out two mugs of coffee from her Thermos.

  He blew hard on his mug and slurped down a half-inch of the brew. “Saw lots of action outside the casino…one, maybe two different dealers. Hard to tell who’s buying and who’s selling.”

  “What did they look like? Men? Women?”

  “Both men…a guy in a hoodie and another in a leather jacket.”

  “Brown with chrome buckles?”

  “Buckles? Maybe.”

  Andy told him of her night, seeing the same man twice, appearing to be dealing. She described his car. “We should alert our constables…have them get a plate number. Maybe we can track his supplier.”

  “I’ll get Alice on it,” he said, referring to the station’s secretary, receptionist, and Roberts’ right hand.

  “Tell her the guys shouldn’t engage or alert the driver. We want to follow his movements first.”

  Terry was composing a message for Alice to read to the mobile units. “We need to start working on the top-down, as well,” he said.

  “Yeah, the people in Orillia tell us Canada is being supplied mostly from China through B.C, though some of it is from Mexico.”

  “The whole of North America is working on the opioid problem,” Terry said. “You think little old you and I can crack it?”

  “Don’t know, but maybe we can shut it down in little old Sault Ste. Marie.”

  Nine

  Eddie turned left out of the Canada Border Service complex onto Huron St. Under the passenger seat were two almost identical envelopes. He had just returned from his first three deliveries and collections after his dry runs.

  The first had been to meet with the same woman he’d met on the other side of the “Big Mac” bridge in Mackinaw City, Michigan. The next was further down in the state at the Pellston, Michigan airport. His job was to deliver the pills in return for an envelope he assumed contained cash in large denomination notes. He was told not to open the envelopes. Any accounting would be done by others. It was not in the interest of either party to disrupt the arrangement by any action so short-sighted as cheating.

  The exchange was made when the airport lobby was crowded with passengers. This was one of three pre-arranged venues that would rotate on a regular schedule. On the way back to Canada, Eddie had stopped in a mall on the south edge of Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan, making the same exchange at a fast food restaurant there.

  He drove north on Huron, then turned down a side street to Nick Savos’ auto restoration shop and into the empty bay next to the ever-present half-restored ’56 Chevy. He could see Savos through the glass window of his office, but it was that same goon of a henchman who was there to meet him. The tough, who went by the moniker of “Teach” for a reason unknown to Eddie (he assumed it had nothing to do with academics), approached, holding out large, grubby fingers for the envelopes.

  Eddie retrieved them from under the passenger seat. “Uh, could you ask Nick for—”

  “Oxy.” Teach finished his sentence.

  “Yeah.”

  Eyes cold as a shark’s stared at Eddie before turning away to the office with the envelopes. Eddie watched through the window while Savos reached in a drawer and handed something to his lieutenant.

  T
each returned with a small white plastic container. “Nick says ‘go easy on this stuff.’ How bad are you hooked?”

  “I can handle it!” Eddie protested. I don’t need a lecture, for chrissake!

  ~ * ~

  The late afternoon sun cast long shadows of the pines across the well-manicured lawn of Dale Urban’s home. A blue pickup turned off Queen Street East onto its long driveway that led to the secluded house.

  The truck drew to a stop on the circular drive in front of the place. A hulking man stepped out carrying two fat envelopes and approached the door. Rather than ring, with some difficulty he jammed the envelopes through the mail slot.

  In a matter of seconds, the truck had sped away, back into town.

  ~ * ~

  Marly had just come off a double shift on an unseasonably warm night for April. Her bus lumbered away in a trail of exhaust, and she walked the short blocks to Eddie’s house.

  Cheap rent there and the extra work had allowed her to save enough money to open an account at the Northern Credit Union. It felt good, being the first time ever that she had felt in control of her life. She was even considering finishing high school. A program of night classes was being given at one of the secondary schools on the north side of the city, if she could only find a way to get across town after work.

  She turned the corner to see Eddie getting out of his car. He spotted her and waited.

  “You did a double,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  “What are you doing with all that money?”

  “I’m supporting your skinny ass!” Eddie looked away and headed up to the house. It was a cheap shot, and she regretted saying it.

  It had been two weeks since he had started paying off Nick Savos by doing his bidding. Savos was deducting everything he’d promised Eddie as repayment of the debt, except for a stipend for the use of his car.

  “You eat?” she asked, following him into the house.

  “Naw.”

  “I ate at work. Sit down, and I’ll scramble some eggs.” He didn’t argue. She watched him there at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers, while she broke three eggs into a fry pan.