“I was trying to.”
“You never were much good with the bat.”
“Yeah, I was a lousy hitter. I didn’t know it was you. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“If you hurt me? Jesus, Eddie!” I fumbled for a cigarette and lit it. “Eddie, what the hell is that gun for, anyway? Do you have to point it at me?”
He adjusted the gun so that it aimed over my shoulder. “It’s a long story, lawmaster. I don’t think I want to tell it to you.”
“What are you afraid of? Not me, surely.”
“I told you. A long story.”
“Where’s E.J.?”
He hesitated. “E.J. was kidnapped.”
“I know that. And?”
He stared at me. Then his eyes shifted away. “I helped them,” he whispered.
His words jolted me. “Eddie, for Christ’s sake!” I jerked to my feet. Eddie stood, too, and leveled the shotgun at my nose.
“Sit down, Brady.”
I sat.
Eddie resumed his seat on the hay bale but held the stock of the gun snug under his armpit so that it remained pointing directly at me. “They called me that Saturday night,” he said. “The day E.J. didn’t come home. You had already talked to me, so I knew what they meant. They let me talk to him. He was okay. Scared, but okay. I told him everything was fine. Then they told me I had to help them. Or they’d kill him, see? I believed them. What could I do? I said I’d do what they wanted. They said if I fucked it up E.J. was dead. I had to go along with them, right?” Eddie’s eyes appealed to me.
“Sure. I see that. Then what happened?”
“They said I should call you back, pretend I didn’t know nothing. So I called you. Then I was supposed to play dumb, go along, they’d let me know what to do. I waited. All day Sunday, nothing. Sunday night they called again. I was going batshit, believe me, wondering if E.J. was okay. They asked me if Sam was good for one and a half big ones. I said I thought so. They asked me who I could trust. I said you. Then they said if I wanted to see E.J. alive, I should keep playin’ dumb and the night after they got the money I was supposed to meet them, and they’d let me have E.J. What could I do? They’d of killed him. I drove to a place. There were three of them there, in a car. Two of them got in with me. One drove, the other got in back with me and shoved me down onto the floor. He was holding a knife against my neck. We drove somewhere else, and when we got there I saw E.J. They said they’d let us both go after they were sure I hadn’t given them away.”
“And you believed them?”
He snorted. “’Course not. What else could I do, though, huh?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Eddie, for God’s sake, what happened to E.J.?”
He gazed at me for a moment, then nodded slowly and stood up. “Come here,” he said. He swung the barrel of the shotgun, gesturing for me to move ahead of him. We walked down the center of the barn, past empty stalls and stacks of hay bales. At the back of the barn was a wide double door, pulled shut. Eddie slid it open a crack. “Take a look,” he said.
I moved to the door and looked out beyond a fenced in area to a hay field adjacent to the pasture where the cows grazed. A tractor was chugging along, mowing hay. It was moving directly away from the barn, so that all I could see was the back of the man who was driving it. He wore a broad-brimmed straw hat against the summer sun.
“Is that Jake?”
“Yes. Wait.”
The tractor reached the end of the row, pivoted neatly, and started back toward the barn. Then I could see E.J. Donagan perched up on old Jake Grabowski’s lap, steering.
I stepped back from the door and Eddie quickly slid it shut. We returned to the hay bales and sat down again.
“Jake and E.J. are great pals,” said Eddie softly. “Jake’s happy to have us here.”
“What does he think?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure what he thinks. I asked if we could stay for a while, that’s all. Little summer holiday. Hell, we didn’t bring any luggage, didn’t announce ourselves. Old Jake knows more’n he lets on, probably. But he likes the company, and he’s an old Yankee. Minds his business. Anyway, since Mary died he’s been alone. We help him keep the farm going. It makes him happy.”
“Mary died,” I said. “I’m sorry to hear it.”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Tough on Jake.”
“That when he had the phone disconnected?”
Eddie arched his eyebrows. “How’d you know that?”
I smiled. “A lot of people are pretty worried about you two, as you might have guessed. You could’ve called.”
He frowned and shook his head. “I haven’t left this place since we got here. I don’t dare. I’m sorry about Jan being worried and all. But there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.”
“You’re hiding.”
“Oh, yeah, we’re hiding, all right. So far we’ve been lucky.”
“Why haven’t you gone to the police?”
“You don’t know them. Like I said, I don’t dare move. We never leave the farm. I keep the gun with me, stick close to E.J. All I can think is some day they’ll come. When they do, I’m gonna be ready.”
He moved to the open barn door again and cautiously looked around. Then he came back and sat down. “I didn’t see your face,” he said. “When I heard you yelling, all I could figure was…”
“I understand. How did you get away?”
Eddie chuckled. “They had us at this house in the woods, one of those ranch houses all on one floor. At night they kept me and E.J. locked up in separate rooms. They’d sit around the living room watching TV and drinking. My room had one of those skinny casement windows, you know, the kind you crank to open. Anyway, one night I crawled out. I guess they didn’t figure I’d try because they’d still have E.J. I don’t know. Anyhow, I went to E.J.’s room and tapped on his window, and he crawled out, too. It was simple. I was planning just to run, but my car was there. I always keep a spare key taped onto the back of the bumper, and it was still there. I stuck a wad of E.J.’s gum into the ignition of their car, and then he and I got into mine, and we just drove away.”
“You took quite a chance.”
“Not really, when you think they were going to kill us anyway. We drove like hell. At first I was gonna head for Maine, but then I realized I didn’t have any money, so I thought of Jake. I was gonna borrow some iron from him and keep going, Canada, maybe, but he was so damn glad to see us, and I thought maybe it’d be a good place to stay for a couple of days, and the more I thought about it the more I figured we’d be better off here than trying to move.” He shrugged. “So we’re here.”
“Well, now you can come back. We’ll go back home tonight.”
He shook his head. “No we won’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
He sighed deeply. “It’s not that simple, old lawmaster.”
“Of course it is. You’ll be safe.”
“That’s not the point.”
I stared at him. “Do you think you’re in trouble?”
“I know I’m in trouble.”
“No one can blame you for helping them get money from Sam, if that’s what you’re worried about. Christ, Eddie, you’re a hero for getting E.J. away from them. We’ll go back, bring E.J. home, and you can talk to Marty Stern. It’s simple.”
“It ain’t simple. We’d never get there.”
“I think you’re being paranoid.”
“Think whatever you want. I ain’t going back.”
“And what about E.J.? What about your son?”
“Yeah? What about him?”
“You can’t hide him forever.”
Eddie narrowed his eyes, but otherwise made no reply.
“Look,” I said. “At least let me take E.J. back with me. You can do whatever you want. Just give me names and places. Tell me who these people are and where we can find them. Then we can make it safe for you to come back. What do you say?”
For a moment he didn’t an
swer me. When he finally spoke, his voice was a hoarse whisper. “Brady, I am in deep shit, believe me. I have really fucked up my life. I can only think of two good things I’ve ever done. One was helping to make E.J. The other was helping him to get away. I ain’t worth a pig turd. I been trying to run away from all this bad shit for sixteen years. All I can do is keep running.” His eyes appealed to me. “I don’t want to go back. And if I let you go, you’ll tell them where I am. The police, Stern, all of them. You have to. You’re a lawyer. And they’ll come for me. So I can’t let you go.”
I nodded. “You’re right. I won’t bullshit you. I’ll have to tell them. But listen. I’ll give you three days. You give me E.J. and I promise you three days. Three days to keep running. Or three days to decide to come back and get your life together.”
“Can you do that?”
“Sure. I can do that.”
He shook his head slowly. “You goddam lawyers. Nothing’s right and wrong with you guys, is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it’s either right that you tell them about me, or it’s wrong. But you, you find something in the middle.”
“We learn to do the best we can. Everything’s a compromise. Three days is a compromise.”
“What if I say okay?”
“If you say okay, you tell me who these people are, you tell me who’s done what. And you tell me the rest. You tell me what you’re really afraid of, so I can give you some good legal advice. And if you still won’t come with me, I’ll leave here tonight with E.J. I’ll take him back to Jan, and I’ll talk to the FBI. Sure, they’ll ask me where you are. I’ll tell them I don’t know. I’ll make up something. They won’t believe me, but I don’t think they’ll beat me with rubber hoses. In three days I’ll tell them you’re here. You can run away, or you can come back, or you can stay here and wait if you’ll feel safer. Okay?”
“You know,” said Eddie slowly, “me and E.J.’ve gotten along real good here. We work together, play catch, do a little fishin’ in Jake’s pond. I’ve gotten used to having him around. I like him. I never really had that feeling before. He’s a nice kid. Jan’s done a good job with him.”
“What about E.J., anyway?” I said. “Does he understand what’s going on here, the kind of trouble you and he are in?”
Eddie shrugged. “He doesn’t say much. But, yeah, he knows. He’s a tough little monkey. And smart. He doesn’t know about me, but he knows he was kidnapped, all right, and he knows we’re hiding out. He can handle it.”
“What about his mother? He must miss Jan?”
Eddie smiled thinly. “Sure. Sure he does. I’ve been telling him he’ll see her soon. Whenever that will be.”
“She deserves to have him back.”
“I know. Okay. It’s a deal. Three days.”
I sighed. “Good. Now. You’ve got to tell me everything.”
“Like a confession, huh?”
“Sure. Tell Father Coyne all about it.”
He chuckled. “A priest you ain’t, Brady.”
“Tell me about it, my son.”
“This ain’t easy. Sixteen years I’ve lived with this. When they took E.J. my feeling was, well, I deserve this. This is what I get. This is my penance. See, it started that year I was at Pawtucket. I didn’t know what the hell was going on. I was just a kid. You gotta believe that.” He stared earnestly at me, and I nodded. “First, it was the girl. Oh, Jesus, was she a beautiful girl…”
Eddie talked for a long time, his soft voice brimming with self-reproach. His story spilled out in bursts of disconnected thoughts linked by long moments of silence when I thought he had finished, or decided not to continue. His knee jiggled constantly as he talked, and the shotgun he held across it bounced with it. I smoked several cigarettes while I listened. When he mentioned names, I wrote them into my address book. Once he stopped, his eyebrows lifted to request assurance. I told him it was okay, it wasn’t so bad, and he said, “Don’t give me your lawyer bullshit.” But he kept going, driving himself through the pain of the words. I couldn’t see how his soul was benefitting from his confession, but he made a full one to me, and when he was done I told him I wanted to help him.
“Oh, I know you can help me with the legal stuff,” he said. “I’ve always known that. There were times when I had my mind all made up to tell it all to you. When I left Jan and E.J. I wanted to spill my guts to you, I really did. But I didn’t want to see that look in your eyes, Brady, like I see now. I wanted you to respect me, and I didn’t want you to pity me. All I ever wanted was a little genuine respect from people. The only way I was going to get that was by working it out for myself.”
“So you kept running. That didn’t work, Eddie.”
He shrugged. “I never thought the bastards would do something like kidnap my son. The worst I figured was they’d kill me.”
From outside the barn came the roar of an engine. It belched three or four times, then died. “Well, that’s them,” said Eddie. “E.J. and Jake.”
I nodded. “Come back with us tonight, Eddie. Let’s set things right.”
He shook his head. “No. I need to think.”
“You’re making a mistake,” I said. “But, okay. We’re agreed?”
“We’re agreed.”
Eddie sighed and we stood up. He pumped the shotgun, ejecting three shells onto the floor of the barn. Then he hung the gun on pegs on the barn wall. He stooped to pick up the shells, thrust them into the pocket of his overalls, then went outside. I followed him.
The tractor was parked in the dusty farmyard under the shadow of a big solitary beech tree. E.J. and Jake stood side by side next to it. Their backs were to us. Jake had one hand thrust into the engine, and with the other he was making little circular movements. E.J.’s head was cocked up to watch the old man speak. It could have been a Norman Rockwell painting, Jake’s seamed old face furrowed like freshly plowed earth, and E.J.’s as pink as a new-born heifer, Jake’s full of love and E.J.’s full of trust.
When we approached, they turned.
“Hi, Dad,” said E.J. “Jake was just telling me about carburetors. They mix the gas with air so it’ll burn good.”
“Gol-danged thing’s all gunked up,” said Jake. He peered at me and frowned.
“This is Brady Coyne,” said Eddie. “Remember him?”
I held out my hand and Jake gripped it strongly. “Nope,” he said, squinting at my face.
“It was many years ago,” I said.
“Must’ve been,” said Jake. To Eddie he said, “E.J.’s gonna be a race car driver, he tells me. So he’s gotta know engines. He did a helluva job cuttin’ hay.”
“I can do it by myself as soon as my legs get longer,” said the boy. He looked at me and grinned. “Hi, Uncle Brady.”
I ruffled his hair. “Hi, pal.”
Eddie glanced at me, then put his hand on E.J.’s shoulder. “Uncle Brady came to take you home,” he said. “Vacation’s over.”
E.J. looked from Eddie’s face to mine. “Aw…”
“Now, never mind,” said Eddie. “You didn’t think you were going to stay here forever, did you? Your mother misses you.”
“You mean today?”
“Tonight,” said Eddie. “Right after supper.”
20
E.J. AND I HAD been on the road for half an hour before I became suspicious of the gray station wagon. It had appeared in my mirror shortly after E.J. and I left Jake and Eddie at the farm, and by the time we turned onto the highway in Williamstown I had to acknowledge that it could be following us.
I pulled into a Getty station and asked the attendant to check my oil and fill the gas tank. “Want a Coke, partner?” I said to E.J., who had thus far succeeded in fending off my conversational sallies.
“Okay. Sure.”
I dumped a pocketful of change into his cupped hands. “Get me one, too,” I told him.
The gray wagon, a late model Buick, slid past us. It contained two men, neither of whom turned h
is head in my direction. Nor did the car slow down or in any other way suggest that we were of any interest to its occupants. I jotted down the license number anyway.
E.J. climbed back into the car and handed me my Coke, along with the leftover change. We cracked the cans open and I held mine out to him. “Here’s to coming home,” I toasted.
“My mother doesn’t let me drink Coke,” he said, touching cans with me.
“Well, you’re with me, now.”
“Not for long.”
“She’s missed you. So have your grandparents. They’ve been terribly worried. They’ll be happy to see you.”
E.J. didn’t answer. He slouched against the car door and sipped his Coke.
I realized that I didn’t know much about talking to ten-year-old boys, especially one who had been kidnapped, whose father had rescued him, who had hid for several weeks, and who, now, was being taken back to the place where it had started.
The Buick picked us up again as we entered the North Adams business district. It maintained a discreet distance, leaving half a dozen cars between us. I knew there were many ways to explain it. But I remembered that fear that had glittered in Eddie’s eyes when we said good-bye in the Grabowski farmyard. He hugged E.J., who responded with a self-conscious grin, and then he leaned down to speak to me through the car window. “Be careful, will you?” he had said.
I smiled. “Sure. Don’t worry.”
“Look. I’m worried.”
I reached up to squeeze his arm. “I’ll be careful. Promise.”
Eddie had nodded without conviction. “You don’t know them.”
Outside of North Adams Route 2 climbs quickly into the mountains. There was a hairpin turn in the road where a parking area had been cleared for motorists to stop and admire the view westward toward New York and north to Vermont. I pulled in and turned off the ignition.
“Let’s get out and look at the sunset,” I said to E.J.
He shrugged his thin shoulders without looking at me. “I’m not really big on sunsets,” he said. But he opened the car door and got out.
We walked to the edge of the parking area, which was lined with boulders nearly the size of Volkswagens. Beyond the crude barricade the sheer face of the mountain fell straight down for what looked like half a mile. I hoisted E.J. up onto one of the rocks so he could see, keeping a firm grip on his belt. He wiggled and twisted, hinting that I should let go of him, that he was old enough to keep his own balance. I released my grip on his belt, but stayed close to him.
Follow the Sharks Page 18