Memoirs Of An Antihero

by Drew Blank

  “So, are you saying the cameras are The Freak’s? Or do you think they were set up as surveillance for the guys in the house?” I tried to divert Dom away from what might turn out to be a tangible lead.

  “My guess is they are his,” Dom theorized. “I mean, if the cameras were for the protection of the people inside, they certainly weren’t doing a great job. Besides, why would the cameras be pointing at the house? Wouldn’t they want to see its perimeter?”

  “Oh yeah. I guess that makes sense,” I conceded, again hoping Phil was extra careful.

  “Unfortunately, none of that stuff helps me find the real shooter.” Dom ran his hand through his premature graying hair and slowly shook his head. “It just means I have two killers on the loose now, one of which the police aren’t even acknowledging.”

  “Would it mean anything if I told you someone was looking for Randy tonight at Tully’s?” I jumped at the chance to point Dom in the right direction without implicating myself.

  “He’s a drug dealer. I am sure plenty of people are always looking for him,” Dom replied, not taking the bait.

  “It was the mayor’s kid,” I said, hoping to spark his curiosity.

  “Junior?” Dom lifted his head up, immediately interested.

  “You didn’t tell me that!” Twisty took a break from sucking down the coffee the waitress had brought us. The truth was, I had a hunch she would fret more about Randy’s safety than I would. I assumed being under police surveillance, he was protected, hence, no need to worry Twisty.

  “I didn’t think it was such a big deal,” I explained myself to her. She flashed me a nasty look.

  “What kind of business could Mathers Whitney Jr. have with a small time drug dealer like Randy?” Dom wondered aloud.

  “I was curious about that too,” I said, leadingly. “I thought it was a tad unusual.”

  “Well, it doesn’t do me any good,” Dom was discouraged. “I mean, what the hell am I going to do? The mayor is the most corrupt bastard in this whole freakin’ town. If I were to even try to bring his creepy asshole of a son into all of this I would be stripped of my badge immediately.”

  “He is a creepy asshole,” Twisty agreed.

  “It is weird, though,” Dom said as he pondered the possibilities, “but I’m sure it’s nothing.” Whether Dom believed that or not, he knew to pick his battles. Investigating the mayor’s kid for possible involvement in a multiple homicide was a battle he wouldn’t win.

  “So, where do you go from here?” I asked.

  “I guess it’s mostly just a waiting game. The Freak’s obviously going to hit again and we just have to be ready.” The words came from Dom’s lips confidently, but a little defeated.

  We abandoned any shoptalk once the waitress delivered our food and instead concentrated on silly trivial matters that would keep our minds off everything going on in our lives. It was nice to just enjoy a meal with two good friends. Unfortunately, the good times were interrupted halfway through our tall stacks of pancakes by Dom’s phone.

  “This is Officer Prange,” Dom flipped open the phone and answered, adding more authoritative bass in his voice than I had ever heard. “Yeah… shit… you’re fucking kidding me… goddammit… yeah… no… give it to me… 118 Battlecreek… got it… I’ll be right there.”

  “That didn’t sound good.” Twisty beat me to pointing out the obvious.

  “Something’s gone down at Randy’s place. I gotta go.” Dom fumbled in his pocket for his wallet.

  “What happened?” I asked, genuinely concerned.

  “I couldn’t really tell from that conversation, but I have a hunch someone is dead. Let me get you some cash.” He continued searching his pants.

  “Dude. Get the fuck out of here. Don’t worry about that.” I ordered him to go.

  “But I told y…” he started.

  “Go! You can buy next time,” Twisty barked.

  “Okay.” He slid out of the booth past Twisty who had already gotten up and out of his way. “I’ll give you a call and let you know what’s up. Thanks guys.” Dom was the only person I knew that even in the face of an emergency could still be polite.

  “Go!” I urged him to rush out the door.

  “Fuck,” I said once Dom was out of sight. “Carver had to have gotten to him.”

  “Hey, don’t get all gloom and doom just yet.” Twisty pulled herself closer to me in the booth and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Maybe they caught Carver. You never know what coulda happened.” She attempted to calm me down.

  “Doesn’t Randy have a family?” Randy rarely discussed his family, but I was aware of their existence.

  “Wife and two kids. Of course, you wouldn’t ever be able to tell he was married the way he fucks around,” Twisty said while shoving a fork full of pancake into her mouth.

  “How old are the kids?” I asked.

  “I’unno.” Twisty shrugged as she forced a sound out through cheeks full of food. After swallowing, she responded more coherently. “I’m not sure, but I know they’re young. Like two and three or something like that.”

  “Goddammit…” I had lost my appetite. “We need to go there.”

  “Do you remember the address?” Twisty asked while patting a napkin on her lips.

  “118 Battlecreek. You ready?” I threw a hundred dollar bill on the table, leaving our waitress the tip of the week after she paid our bill.

  “Let’s go!” We both scooted out of the booth and headed for the door as quickly as we could.

  Before we even reached our destination, we knew something big was happening. The lights from emergency vehicles illuminated the entire sky. Ambulances, police cars and fire trucks surrounded Randy’s small ranch home that sat on the corner of Battlecreek Drive and Cleveland Avenue.

  “Ambulances and fire trucks are never a good sign,” Twisty said as she shut off her headlights and pulled to the curb, remaining on Cleveland to stay a safe distance removed.

  “Gee. Thanks,” I commented sarcastically. There were six squad cars pulled in at every angle, three ambulances backed into the lawn and a fire truck blocking the road. The entire scene was chaos. It was difficult to make out who was running where, but everyone was in a hurry.

  “What the hell do you think…” Twisty began to ask before stopping herself. “Oh fuck! Look at that cop car!” She leaned over me from the driver’s side pointing at a car parallel parked in front of the home. Unlike the other squad cars, that one was surrounded with yellow police tape. In the front seats were two officers, slumped over and very dead.

  “Jesus,” I muttered in disbelief. “I bet those were the cops doing surveillance.”

  “Shit. Do you think Carver…?” Twisty didn’t even have the nerve to finish her thought.

  “Yeah. That would be my guess,” I replied, rubbing my eyes with my thumb and index finger.

  “Oh goddammit!” Twisty screamed out in shock and immediately broke into tears. Before I could ask what was wrong, I followed her extended finger. Two paramedics were exiting the front door of the home, pushing a gurney. On the stretcher was a body wrapped in sheets, head covered. The body could not be more than three feet tall. It was very obviously a child. Another gurney followed, that time occupied by an adult body. Twisty and I watched in stunned silence as two more stretchers left the house, another adult and another child. Carver had gotten to Randy and his family.

  “That fucking psychopath!” Twisty seethed as tears poured down her face. “He’s a fucking monster!”

  “I know babe. I know.” I leaned over and clutched Twisty in my arms. It was the first time in all our years together I had seen her cry. She soaked my shirt in tears as she bawled against my chest. I did not cry that night. I was too angry to cry. My body ached from the rage I was storing up inside. Benji Carver wanted to start a war and he was going to stop at nothing to get what he wanted. As I held Twisty, my hands were balled up in fists, sweat dripping from my palms.

  With my teeth clenched, I simpl
y whispered into Twisty’s hair, “I need to fucking destroy something.”

  Still crying, but composing herself enough to talk, she looked up at me and asked, “whadja have in mind?”

  “Just drive,” I told her. I knew I wasn’t going to find Carver that night, but I did know someone that was worthy of my rage.

  The next morning Becky Morgan woke up alone. She would suspect her husband, Troy, was passed out drunk on the downstairs couch, as was a common occurrence. It would not be until the police rang her doorbell to inform her they found her husband’s body in a dumpster behind Tracy’s Pub that she would know he was really gone. He had been beaten to death with what appeared to be several blunt metal objects, they would tell her. The news brought no tears to Becky’s eyes. It did help make sense of the manila envelope she found on the vacant pillow next to her in bed. The envelope contained ten thousand dollars in one hundred dollar bills, banded together with a note that read, in big, unidentifiable block letters

  THIS SHOULD HOLD YOU OVER UNTIL THE LIFE INSURANCE KICKS IN.

  She did not know where the money came from, nor did she tell the police about it. She simply woke up her children, informed them Daddy left and would not be coming back and enjoyed the best breakfast she had eaten in ten years.

  Becky Morgan was in need of a hero. She got the next best thing.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  “Why the fuck didn’t you call us?” Phil was upset when I broke the news to him the next day regarding Carver’s identity.

  “It was a busy night,” I tried to defend myself. “Dom sorta dropped in and put a kink in all our plans. I thought a phone call with Dom present would be a bad idea. And then all the Randy stuff happened, we just lost track of time.”

  “And who is this girl you gave ten grand to?” Phil was not pleased with me that afternoon.

  “She’s a friend from work. It was the least I could do,” I told him.

  “The least you could do? You killed her fucking asshole husband. That wasn’t enough?” I got the feeling that since he and Jim weren’t arguing much anymore, Phil needed to verbally spar with someone and he was choosing me. However, I was too exhausted to fight.

  “Look. It’s done. We’ll make more money. It isn’t a big deal. I needed to blow off some steam.” I took a seat in the foyer chair, making it obvious I was in no mood to battle.

  “When most people need to blow off steam they take a walk or have sex. Your typical person doesn’t break into a co-worker’s house, kidnap their drunk husband and beat him senseless in an alley way,” Phil pointed out.

  “Well, most people don’t usually feel partially responsible for a psychopath slaughtering two small children. I would say I have a bit more steam to blow off.” I tried my best not to raise my voice.

  “Okay. Fine. I’m sorry. There’s just a lot going on right now. I’m trying to take it all in,” Phil apologized, plopping into his computer chair. Jim had barely looked up from his screen since I walked in. “So, you are sure about this Carver thing?”

  “Pretty darned,” I reaffirmed.

  “Fuck. That makes this whole thing kinda hairy, doesn’t it? You kill the mayor’s kid and it won’t just be Dom coming after you. Every cop in town will be on payroll to hunt you down.” Phil’s face always scrunched up when he was trying to formulate a plan. “Goddamn. I am stumped.” He leaned back and exhaled forcefully.

  “Hey. There is one thing Dom mentioned last night that concerned me,” I said.

  “What’d he say?” Phil asked anxiously.

  “He found the cameras. He also says the thermal cams are not very common and it shouldn’t be too hard to pinpoint their origin. What if he traces them back to us?”

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. Trust me.” Phil sighed with relief.

  “Why don’t I have to worry?” I should have learned better than to question Phil, but the camera evidence seemed like it could become an issue.

  “I bought them online with one of those prepaid credit cards,” Phil explained. “Had them delivered to an abandoned house across town. There’s no way to trace them to us.”

  “What if they trace the card? What if there’s a camera at the place you bought the card?” I challenged him.

  “Then they will get video footage of the bum I paid ten bucks to go into the store and buy it for me. And before you ask, I was in disguise when I hired the bum.” Phil confidently squashed my concerns.

  “Wow. Smart,” I said, impressed.

  “Yes. Yes, I am,” he gloated.

  “So, are we good or are you going to yell at me some more?” I asked, only half joking.

  “We’re good. Sorry I blew up on ya,” he apologized.

  “Well, I’m sorry I didn’t call. I should have,” I offered up my apologies as well.

  “You two fellas want some privacy?” Jim asked smugly without looking up from his monitor.

  “Oh c’mon, James. You know you like to watch.” Phil winked at Jim with a grin.

  Jim groaned and went back to ignoring us.

  “So, how are things on the intelligence front?” I asked Phil, trying to turn our afternoon in a more productive direction.

  “I have several things a brewin’,” he assured me. “Carver is lying low, but it seems he is more focused on bringing you out into the open for a battle royale than keeping up his drug trade. Considering he wiped out his most prominent dealers, I would say he has some free time. I’ve been keeping an eye on some of the underlings and they are still busy as ever. I think we can…” My phone began vibrating and I held up my hand to put Phil on hold for a moment. It was Reggie. Even though her calls had increased a little since Moxie’s treatments began, I still cringed whenever I saw her name on my phone. I immediately thought the worst whenever she called. Hesitantly, I answered the call.

  “Hey. What’s up?”

  Fuck you, you fucking cock-sucking piece of shit! Reggie was screaming into the phone, so loudly that Phil and Jim both winced.

  “Whoa. What’s going on?” I tried to remain calm, but with the greeting I received it was difficult.

  Didjoo really think I wouldn’t figure it out? You must really think I am some kind of fucking moron! I refused to comment on that.

  “What are you talking about Reg? What is…”

  Don’t you fucking “Reg” me, asshole. I can’t fucking believe you! I was stumped as to what could have set Reggie over the edge that way. In all our years of fights, she had never been that angry.

  “Look, Reggie. What is going on? I’m coming over and we can…”

  Don’t fucking bother! Michaela and I are not there. Good fucking luck finding us, you fucking psychopath! If I fucking see you I will shove a goddamn knife through your fucking skull, do you hear me? She was still screaming, but crying as well.

  “Reggie, please. Just tell me what’s going on,” I pleaded.

  I bet you and Michaela thought it was so fucking funny that you were sharing this secret behind my back, the whole time treating me like some kind of goddamn retard! Well fuck you! You think I wouldn’t figure out it was you? Our fucking daughter is obsessed with that goddamn Freak. Of course I was going to figure it out! Especially when I go to tuck her in after giving her pain meds and as I turn off the TV she says “Night Daddy” while the goddamn news is playing! You are a real fucking piece of work if you thought I wouldn’t figure that shit out!

  I was frozen. I couldn’t say a word. Reggie knowing about my activities was not a good thing, as was evident by her screaming. It wasn’t until she continued ranting that it occurred to me why she was so enraged.

  You fucking killed the only guy that’s been nice to me in six fucking years, you cocksucker! I forgot about Eddie. Shit.

  “Reggie, look. We gotta talk about this. There is a good reas…”

  Fuck your reasons, asshole. You’re fucking dead! I will fucking make sure of that!

  “Reggie, you’re talking crazy. We need to meet up and…”

  Ni
ce try, asshole! I can’t believe I bought into all

  your nice guy fucking bullshit! Well, Michaela and I don’t need you any fucking more! There’s some guy offering up a hundred grand for The Freak’s identity. That will be a nice chunk of change for us to get away and start over. She’ll get over you, I fucking promise. She was gasping for breath as she screeched at me.

  “Reggie, don’t do this. Do you understand me?” I knew whom the reward was coming from and I knew exactly what would happen once Carver found out The Freak had a daughter. I had seen what he was capable of and I could not let Reggie allow him to get to Moxie.

  Oh no! You can’t tell me what to do anymore! Good luck getting away, asshole! I can’t wait until this guy fucking destroys you!

  “Reggie, calm down. Listen to me.” I tried to be as non- confrontational as possible. “The guy you are talking about is a psycho. Do you really think he is just going to go after me and not Moxie?”

  Don’t worry about us, Drew. It will all be part of the deal. We get the money, you get fucking killed. We all win. The venom pouring from her lips gave me chills. I had no idea what to do.

  “Please don’t go anywhere, Reggie. I’ll be right over,” I begged her.

  I told you not to fucking bother. We are not there! Go fuck yourself, dead man. And with those parting words, she hung up. I tried to call back countless times, all to the same voice mail recording. I had no idea where Moxie was, but I knew she wasn’t safe. For the first time in my life, I felt real terror. I fell to the ground weeping uncontrollably, terrified of what was going to happen to my little girl.

  “Drew?” Phil approached me, unsure how to handle the situation. While Phil and Jim were loyal friends and I literally trusted them with my life, they were not great at handling human emotion. Phil knelt down and hovered over me as I wept, burying my face in between my knees. “Drew? What’s going on?”

  “Fucking Reggie knows,” I composed myself enough to speak. “She took Moxie and won’t tell me where they are.” I let out a wail as my eyes fountained tears forth.