The Boss of Hampton Beach
Page 23
Chapter 23
The Hampton Beach fireworks were an institution. The town held them every Wednesday night during the summer, on the 4th of July, and on a few other special dates too. The display was usually pretty good, shot off from the sand just a little north of the Sea Shell where the bands played. The display always drew a large crowd with, unfortunately, a lot of traffic. And this Wednesday night was no exception.
Buzz and Skinny were right in the middle of it all, standing on the boardwalk (which long ago was converted to concrete) close to the Sea Shell, looking straight down at the beach. A pickup was parked in the sand and the men in charge of the fireworks were moving about. Out on the water, in the direction the aerial display would be aimed, lights sparkled from boats anchored off shore waiting for the show to begin.
Buzz, with Skinny on his right, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the tight crowd. They were right behind the first line of people pressed against the railing that separated the boardwalk from the sand. Behind him Buzz could hear a cacophony of traffic noises, teenage shouts, and the bells and whistles of the arcades. He glanced up at the sky. A beautiful night for fireworks. The kind of night that made a man feel anything was possible.
He glanced at Skinny and scowled. The fruitcake was wearing a checkered sport coat held high to cover his chin, a pair of cheap sunglasses, and a ridiculous-looking porkpie hat. Skinny thought he was well disguised, but Buzz thought he resembled a bad scriptwriter's idea of a small-time bookmaker. If he wasn't so mad at the nitwit, he'd probably be embarrassed to be seen with him. But he was mad at him, real mad.
Buzz leaned down to speak into Skinny's ear. "I still can't believe you got in a shootout with a cop, you silly sack-a-shit."
"Buzz, I told you," Skinny said in that whining voice of his. "I didn't have no choice. He chased me clear across the beach. If I didn't have that motorboat stashed, you'd be bailing me out of jail now."
Buzz wasn't worried about the people around them hearing him and Skinny talk, the crowd noise was so loud they could barely hear each other. And Skinny's voice still twanged his nerves.
"Bullshit," Buzz said. "I wouldn't care if you rotted behind bars . I tell you to do one little thing–follow the spic–and you end up getting in a gunfight with a cop. You know the trouble you could've caused me?"
He must've been talking pretty loud because a few people in the crowd started staring at him. He gave them a threatening glare and they looked quickly away. All of them.
"Sorry, Buzz," Skinny said, voice shaking. "But at least I found out about Marlowe." He nodded toward a man standing against the rail about five or six people to their right. "That's good. Huh, Buzz, huh?"
"Yeah, great. I just hope that old fart gave you the right scoop on who the spic was pumping him about." Buzz stared at the guy named Dan Marlowe, but instead of a man, he saw all those duffel bags of cocaine stuffed to the max with all that white powder. His heart kicked it up a notch. If everything went the way he hoped, he'd have all that cocaine back in his hot little hands before this night was over.
The plan was simple–the minute Marlowe started to leave after the fireworks show, he and Skinny would follow him. Somewhere between here and Marlowe's cottage at the other end of the beach, they'd take him. They'd escort him right off the boardwalk and down onto the sand where, with a little luck, there wouldn't be any people around. Then he'd force Marlowe to tell him where the coke was. It wouldn't take long either, Buzz was confident about that. He could size people up pretty good–had to in his line of work–and he was pretty sure that this Marlowe character was no tough guy. The guy'd shit his pants with a gun jammed in his mouth. Probably start sucking it like a baby's bottle. Buzz snickered.
"Sumpin funny, Buzz?" Skinny asked.
"Yeah. You." And boy did he look funny. A real piece of work. Buzz slowly stopped laughing. Nothing funny about having a simpleton for a partner.
Buzz glanced at his wristwatch: 9:30 p.m. He'd barely gotten his arm back down before a loud swoosh filled the air and the first rocket hurtled skyward. It exploded high above the water, illuminating the boats anchored below. The rocket was an old standard–a green and red pinwheel. The crowd around Buzz oohed. Except for the oohing and the traffic and a few scared kids beginning to cry, the night was strangely quiet all of a sudden.
More rockets, with short time lapses between each, flew skyward and exploded in various colors and shapes. Fifty thousand heads on Hampton Beach were tilted up, watching the sky. It was a terrific display and every so often Buzz had to remind himself why he was there. He glanced at Dan Marlowe staring up at the show like everyone else.
Then Buzz took a peek at Skinny. The thin man's eyes, visible through the shades, were as big as saucers, his mouth was hanging open, and he was oohing and ahhing with every burst of color. No big brain there, Buzz said to himself. But he had to admit, tonight's show was a real class act.
Before he knew it, the sound of multiple rockets leaving their tubes simultaneously slammed his ears. Finale time. Dozens of rockets shot up in the air in succession, creating a solid wave of sight and sound. Blam, blam, blam! The rockets shot faster and faster. Three . . . four . . . five . . . six at a time exploding overhead, their noise blasting his ears as the sound reverberated off the Casino and other buildings. The sky lit up like an aurora borealis, filled with a rainbow of colors. So many pyrotechnics going off all at once . . .
Buzz looked over in time to see Marlowe leaving.
"Come on, come on," he said, grabbing Skinny and propelling him into the crowd. "He's getting away."
Buzz used Skinny as a battering ram to force their way through the throng. It worked too, for a few yards at least. Until he pushed Skinny up against some no-neck twenty-somethings who had a good load on. One of the kids, built like a bull, shoved Skinny right back into Buzz.
"Watch where you're going, stupid tool," the kid said.
"Goddamn college boy," Skinny said and popped the no-neck right on his beak before Buzz could do anything to stop him. The kid looked stunned for a second and then launched into Skinny. Two of the kid's buddies, guys who looked like football players, started to close in too. Even though Skinny was swinging like an out-of-control windmill, Buzz knew instantly they'd probably need a paint scrapper to get what was left of him off the cement.
Buzz strained his neck trying to see over the melee in front of him, hoping to catch a glimpse of Marlowe up ahead. But the man was out of sight, lost in the crowd. Buzz almost went after him, but then he realized he'd have trouble getting around these rowdies. Besides, if he left Skinny alone and unprotected, he wouldn't be any help until he got out of the hospital.
Buzz sighed and balled his big fists. Then he waded into the group in front of him, cracked a couple of heads, and got Skinny out of his jam.
~*~*~