by Kitchin, Rob
‘Not a bad day’s business,’ Pirelli continues, ‘you and your useless head for half of Annabelle’s Delights. Especially since the million dollars was not mine to begin with. And once you’ve managed to retrieve that, we can easily track you down and …’ He trails off, obviously delighted with himself. The cat that got the cream factory.
‘Not yours to begin with,’ I mutter.
‘Earl Jenkins. Or Redneck as you like to call him.’
Somehow Kathy stole a million dollars from Redneck. Where the hell Barry White fits in, I have no idea.
‘So what now?’
‘Now, I ask my lawyer to draw up the appropriate paperwork and ring Kathy back and arrange the details of the trade. In the meantime, you wait here. I think you owe Miss Levy a huge debt of gratitude, Tad. She’s just saved your neck.’
But what about Sally, Jason and Paavo’s?
7
Never trust a lying, cheating, double-crossing bitch
I wake suddenly, momentarily confused by my surroundings. My head is resting on a table, my back arched and stiff. I try to sit upright. Every muscle in my body seems to object. I put my hands behind my head and stretch and twist.
‘Oh fuck,’ I can’t help muttering to myself as bones crack and muscles spasm. I need a new body, this one’s banjaxed. A new head wouldn’t be a bad idea either.
The key turns in the lock and the door is pushed open. The Rock stands in the doorway.
‘Time to go, Red.’
I rub my eyes and glance at my watch. It’s three o’clock in the afternoon. I’ve been asleep for just over an hour and I’ve been Pirelli’s guest for the best part of three. I’d give anything for a drink right now. I feel like I’ve been slow cooked in the heat of the small room.
‘Mr Pirelli’s waiting.’
I get to my feet and brush past him, exiting the room into the cool hallway. My feet are killing me - Sally’s husband’s too small shoes pinching my toes. We head downstairs, through the kitchen and out the back door. The heat outside is stifling. It must be over thirty degrees. I eye all the empty bottles. God, an ice cold beer would be good right now.
There’s a black Range Rover with tinted windows waiting in the alley. The Rock opens the back door and I lever myself in and take a pew behind the front passenger seat. Aldo Pirelli is sitting behind the driver. It’s occupied by a dark haired man in a red t-shirt. He glances back at me and smiles. It’s the chef. No doubt his cleaver is close to hand. My door is closed and The Rock clambers into the passenger seat. We pull off slowly.
It’s freezing inside the jeep, the air conditioning blasting out icy air. Pirelli reaches forward grabs a half liter bottle of water and hands it to me.
Thank heavens for small mercies.
‘Don’t want you to die just yet,’ he says, smiling ironically.
‘Thanks.’ I take the bottle, screw off the cap and down it in one go.
Oh heck, that’s good. At least now it should be blood in piss and not just blood when I next go.
‘I want you to take this.’ He hands me a small pager. I haven’t seen one in ages. Cell phones seemed to have killed them off. ‘When you have the million dollars I want you to let me know. It has a GPS so we’ll know where you are. Just press the green button.’
I nod my head and slip the pager into my pocket. If I have the million dollars the last person I’m going to let know is Aldo Pirelli unless I’ve absolutely no choice.
‘Your Katherine is quite a girl, isn’t she?’ Pirelli says.
‘You could say that,’ I mutter.
‘Who would have thought it? She grew up in the town, you know. A few years younger than you so you might not have noticed. She was a bit of a wild child. Fell in with the wrong crowd and eventually ended up working for me, turning tricks. Then she ran off to the big city. If I’d known her true talents I’d have recruited her as an apprentice. Devious, clever women are always useful. How long has she been with you?’
‘Seven months.’
‘That must be a record for her. I guess if you steal a million dollars from the Memphis mob you’re best off laying low for a while; like forever. Try and fade into the background. Of course, someone like Kathy couldn’t stay hidden forever, especially when she’s been dumb enough to come back to Carrick. That’s the one thing I don’t understand. Why she came home? She could have run anywhere. Why come back here?’
Pirelli shakes his head. He seems genuinely perplexed by the decision.
My guess is she wanted to be somewhere she felt safe; where she knew the lay of the land; where she might be able to reach out for help from someone, like Pirelli, if she needed it.
But that could all be bullshit. God only knows how her warped mind actually works.
‘Tony spotted her in a Rite Aid. He’d gone in for some Maalox. Drank the stuff like cola. He had this stomach ulcer, you know; caused him grief for years. Anyway, he recognized her and tailed her back to your place. Couldn’t believe she was trying to play happy families with a schmuck like you. Kathy Janowski the housewife! Sheesh.’
He stares out the window at the passing landscape.
‘And then she tried to stiff me half a million dollars.’
‘Plus Annabelle’s Delights,’ I add.
‘I added Annabelle’s Delights to make up the difference. And I have to clean up after her; deal with Mr Jenkins and Mr Taylor.’
I nod my head. Aldo Pirelli has a certain way of looking at the world, as if everything belongs to him by rights and he’s doing everyone a big favor by dealing with any opposition to his authority.
‘This is how it is going to work, Tad. When we get there, you are going to walk to the middle of the bridge and stand where everyone can get a clear shot at you. Annabelle is then going to walk over to us. You’re not going to say anything to each other. When she has signed the paperwork, you will continue over the bridge to Kathy. Once you have located the million dollars you’ll page me.’
I really don’t like that phrase: ‘where everyone can get a clear shot at you’. What am I, target practice?
‘What if she won’t sign?’
‘Then you walk back to us. Assuming that Kathy and whoever she’s got helping her don’t shoot you first.’
I don’t like the sound of this plan one bit.
‘And what about Annabelle?’
‘Annabelle stays with us until she can be persuaded to change her mind.’
‘And then what?’
‘And then we let her go. She’s hardly going to increase my share price in captivity, is she? I need her back at work.’
‘And Sally, Jason and Paavo? She won’t be focused on work until they’re free.’
‘I told you, Tad,’ Pirelli says testily, ‘if they don’t want to leave of their own free will, I will be dealing with Mr Jenkins and Mr Taylor.’
I wait a moment then ask one final question.
‘And Kathy?’
‘She better hope she can run like hell.’
* * *
We continue the rest of the journey in silence. In my head I’m playing out permutations. Assuming Annabelle signs the forms, then Pirelli seems set to deal with Redneck and Barry White at some point, and thus Sally, Jason and Paavo. The question is whether I can trust him to let them go free, or myself for that matter. Supposing that I manage to locate the million dollars, survive Kathy Janowski and don’t do a runner myself, witnesses are always a dangerous thing to leave trailing in your wake, especially those that are not part of your organization.
My gut instinct is that I wouldn’t trust Pirelli as far as he could see without his bottle-top glasses. Which is not a great feeling to be honest, but par for the course given the day so far. If there’s an opportunity to spring them free earlier, I’m taking it. We can work out how to handle Pirelli, the police and everyone else once we’re clear of their clutches.
We’re well outside the town’s limits when we draw to a halt. The Rock exits the jeep and opens the back door. I step out
from the chill air into a cauldron, instantly starting to sweat. There’s no shade for a hundred yards in any direction. In this sun I’m going to burn and blister in the time it takes to fry an egg.
We’re parked to the side of a metal truss bridge that crosses the Abenaki River. The bridge is probably ten meters long, the drop down to the lazy moving water the same height. There’s a black Mercedes parked in front of us. On the far side of the bridge is a black Ford Taurus. What is it with the black cars? Is that mandatory for bad guys?
There are no buildings in view. The whole place has a slightly surreal feel to it. A bridge in the middle of nowhere, seemingly serving little purpose.
The driver’s door to the Mercedes opens and a man with silver hair in a smart grey suit steps out, lowering sunglasses down onto his nose. In his right hand he’s clutching a brown leather briefcase. No doubt Pirelli’s lawyer.
Pirelli steps out of the Range Rover, his hand shading his eyes. He gazes over at the Taurus.
Kathy Janowski exits the car on the far side of the bridge. Her blond hair is pulled back into a short pony tail and she’s wearing large sunglasses. She ducks her head down and a moment later it reappears, quickly followed by Annabelle’s. A tall Mexican in his late thirties steps out from behind a bridge strut. He’s holding an Uzi, which he is pointing in our direction.
The Rock and the chef both tug hand guns from underarm holsters.
Pirelli throws up his hands and rolls his eyes.
‘Kathy, what is this shit?’
‘Just send over Tadhg, Mr Pirelli.’ Even now she is still deferring to his title; his reputation.
‘Can we not conduct our business like civilized people?’
Kathy laughs. ‘I’ve seen some of the things you’ve done to people, Mr Pirelli, none of which were very civilized.’
Pirelli waves his hand dismissively. ‘You’re playing a dangerous game, Kathy. We could have collaborated on this. Shared the profits. I could have protected you from Mr Jenkins and that psychopath, Leroy Taylor.’
Kathy laughs again then stops abruptly. ‘Tadhg get out into the middle of the Goddamn bridge.’
I glance at Pirelli who gives a slight nod.
I slowly walk to the centre and stop. This is not good. There is nowhere to hide. It’s two or three meters either way to the struts and some possible cover. My stomach is flipping somersaults.
‘Send over Annabelle, Kathy.’
‘I want you to promise that you won’t come after me,’ Kathy replies.
‘Would you believe me if I did?’
Kathy doesn’t answer, effectively confirming Pirelli’s suspicion.
‘My word is my honor,’ he says. ‘Now, send over Annabelle.’
Kathy releases Anna and pushes her forward. I can tell by the way she’s holding herself that she’s hurt. I take a pace forward to go and help her.
‘Stay where you are, Tad!’ Pirelli orders.
Annabelle shuffles forward. Her hair is matted, her face bruised and bloody. She’s holding her left arm and is walking with a pronounced limp.
As she nears me I whisper. ‘Don’t sign the papers, Anna.’
She whispers back, ‘Don’t give that bitch the million dollars.’
‘No talking,’ Pirelli barks.
She shuffles past. I turn my head, tracking her.
‘Face the front, Tad.’
Reluctantly I stare straight ahead at Kate Jansen/Kathy Janowski. She pulls a tight, ironic smile. Even at this distance I can see that she too has taken a beating at some point. Probably at the hands of Redneck and Cowboy.
I can hear whispering behind me. I start to turn to see what’s going on.
‘Keep staring straight ahead or I’ll blow your head clean off your neck,’ The Rock says.
Shit.
I’m left standing like that for five minutes. I can feel my exposed skin frazzling in the sun’s heat.
‘Okay, Tad,’ Pirelli says eventually. ‘I want you to walk the rest of the way over to Kathy.’
I start to move forward. Behind me I can hear the slamming of car doors, engines sparking into life. Before I reach the far side they have already set off. I’ve moved from the hands of one deranged criminal into the hands of another. And Annabelle has gone the other way. Hardly progress.
* * *
Kate/Kathy – I’m going to keep calling her Kate, that’s how I know her – is waiting at the open back door to the Taurus. Some of her blond hair has fallen free and she brushes it over her ear with the hand holding Redneck’s blocky pistol. She’s wearing dark jeans and a short sleeved, faded blue denim shirt, open to her sternum. Despite the bruising around her jaw and on her arms she looks sexy in a kind of white trash, I’ll blow your fucking head off if you say the wrong thing, kind of way.
You should have seen her when I first met her. Think Goddess in a short, electric blue dress.
‘Hello, Tadhg,’ she says, pulling a tight smile as I reach her.
‘Kate.’
‘You’re going to look like a lobster tomorrow. If you last that long.’
She slams down the butt of the gun, it glancing off the side of my head, thumping into my shoulder.
FUCK!
I duck backwards, stumbling, dropping onto the seat of my pants with a thwack.
Ouch!
I’m not sure what to hold, my head or my coccyx. I know exactly where to keep my eyes, however – on the gun, which Kate is now pointing at me, gripping it with two hands. Even if she’s not a crack shot, she can’t miss from there. And I’ve no doubt it’ll make a bloody mess wherever the bullet hits.
‘Have you any idea how much grief you’ve caused me?’ Kate snaps.
I’m not sure how to answer that, so I keep my mouth shut. Whatever grief I’ve caused her, it’s been reciprocated multiple times over. She’s the one responsible for stealing a million dollars, for pissing off Redneck, Barry White and Pirelli, and for getting five people kidnapped!
‘A million dollars, Tadhg. A million fucking dollars. Have you any idea how much effort I put into that?’
‘You stole it from Earl Jenkins,’ I can’t help saying. I touch the side of my face and glance at my hand. It’s damp with blood. That’s twice today she’s whacked me on the head, opening a wound. I hope to heck that this isn’t one of those things that come in threes.
‘And where the fuck do you think he got it? You think that’s legitimately earned money? It’s Mob money. Dirty money. My fucking money!’
Juan coughs on the other side of the car.
Kate glances over at him. ‘You know what I mean, Juan. Our money,’ she says sweetly. ‘I mean our money.’ She turns her attention back to me. ‘I’ve worked damn hard to get that money. I’ve done things you don’t even want to think about. And then you stick your nose in and fuck it all up.’
‘I didn’t call Earl Jenkins or Leroy Taylor,’ I reply. ‘I didn’t start a gun fight at the truck stop. I didn’t kill Tony Marino.’
She pulls a wry smile. ‘Well, it certainly looked like you killed Tony. Then decided to … I don’t know, sleep with him.’
‘It wasn’t what it looked like.’ I climb gingerly to my feet.
‘And what was it?’
‘A mistake. I was drunk. I thought it was you.’ I start to dust myself off.
‘Me! You thought it was me?’ She laughs. ‘He’s hairier than a grizzly bear. Temper like one as well. Jesus, Tadhg.’
‘So you’ve no idea why Tony Marino was left in our – my – bed? Stabbed four times, his clothes left in the garbage.’
‘I hoped you were going to tell me.’
‘What happened at the truck stop?’ I ask, changing tack, aware that a trickle of blood is creeping down my chest. I mop the side of my head with the end of the yellow tie. There’s little sign of the gash clotting any time soon.
‘A fuck-up. Look, Tadhg, I’d really like to stand here and chat all day, but I’ve things to be getting on with.’
‘Like finding
your million dollars.’
‘And my favorite cap.’
‘Your favorite cap?’
‘My Crusaders cap.’
‘Your Crusaders cap?’ I repeat. What the hell is she going on about? Who cares about a Goddamn cap?
‘Yes, my fucking lucky Crusaders cap! Where the fuck is it, Tadhg?’
‘What the fuck’s your cap got to do with anything?’ I ask, genuinely perplexed.
‘It’s got everything, you moron. Use your head!’
‘Use my head?’ Understanding slowly dawns. ‘The million dollars is in the cap?’
‘For fuck’s sake, Tadhg, how the fuck would you get a million dollars in a cap?’
Or maybe it isn’t. She’s completely lost me. I just stare at her bewildered.
‘Just tell me where my fucking Crusaders cap is, Tadhg!’
She’s the kind of wacko that would risk everything for their favorite piece of clothing. The kind that arranges shootouts at truck stops. For people to get killed in her boyfriend’s bed.
At least there’s an opportunity here to play her at her own game. Well, to at least try.
‘Sally has it,’ I say. It’s only a small white lie. Technically it’s true. It’s in the hall of her house, rather than with her. Maybe there is a way to try and rescue her after all. A long shot, but then that’s all I’m playing these days.
‘Sober Sally?’ Kate asks. ‘The one with fat ankles and kids with stupid names?’
‘Yes.’
‘You gave my favorite cap to that sour-faced bitch!’
‘She was having a bad hair day.’
‘Bad hair day! Are you fucking crazy! That was my favorite cap!’
So this is all about the cap. Somehow the damn cap is the key to the million dollars. Of course it is. Isn’t it? Even Kate isn’t kooky enough to be obsessed with a cap purely for sentimental reasons. She’s told me as much herself after knocking me to the ground.
‘Hey, Kathy,’ Juan says over the roof of the car. ‘It’s not a problem, okay. We’ll find this Sally and get your cap back after we get the million dollars.’
She seems to calm a little. ‘You’re right. You’re right. Let’s go and get her.’ She motions me towards the car with the gun. ‘Get in the front seat.’