A Perfect Shot

by Robin Yocum

  Duke’s vision returned fully. His head thumped with each pulse. There was swelling and a scrape over his left brow, where he dropped into the gravel of the alley. “What’s this about?” Duke asked.

  “We need to talk.”

  “You couldn’t pick up the phone like a normal human being?”

  “Telephones are so impersonal, don’t you think? For important meetings, like this, there is a certain decorum that we like to follow in my circles, and that calls for providing transportation to the meeting.”

  Duke took several deep breaths, continuing to gather his bearings. He pushed himself to his feet, staggered for purchase, and held tight to the universal gym until the lightness ebbed from his head. “Okay, I’m here.” Duke started across the room toward the bar with the stability of a newborn lamb. “What do you want?”

  “My sister asked me to talk to you. This whole divorce thing has her quite upset.” Tony crossed his arms and shook his head. “Quite upset. I told her that we’d have a conversation, you and me.”

  “You busted my head and dragged me up here to give me marriage counseling?”

  “See, more cute comments. You crack me up. I’m not sure you appreciate how much pressure this puts on me, Duke. I would have thought after our last conversation about divorcing my sister that you would be makin’ better decisions.”

  “I’m not sure you appreciate the deteriorated state of my marriage.”

  “You’re missin’ the point. I don’t give a shit about the state of your marriage. It’s when it starts interfering with my business that it becomes a problem. After the Troll disappeared, I had Joey Antonelli climbing a yard up my ass. If that wasn’t bad enough, my sister starts calling, bawlin’ and sayin’ that she doesn’t know what to do because you want a divorce and that you’re out all the time screwin’ that nurse, and on and on and on. I tell her, ‘Nina, I ain’t got time for this, right now.’ You know, like all I got to do all day is listen to her cry about her marital problems. But, I gotta listen, ’cause she’s my twin sister. Then my mom starts raggin’ my ass about it. I’ve got an operation to run, and I’m spendin’ all my time listenin’ to two women whine about what a son of a bitch you are. Again, I tell Nina I ain’t got the time. Then, a week ago, out of the clear blue fuckin’ sky, she tells me that if I’ll help keep her marriage together, she’ll tell me where you guys hid the Troll’s money.”

  Tony stopped talking and stared hard at Duke, waiting for a reaction. Duke rubbed the back of his neck. Tony was bluffing, he thought. Nina couldn’t possibly know that.

  Tony continued. “I ask her how she knows where you hid the money, and she says she just knows. She says she won’t tell me unless I promise to help save her marriage. I tell her, ‘Nina, this ain’t the fuckin’ time for you to be making demands of my time.’ I’m out sixty large, and she wants me to fix her marriage. Anyway, I talked to her and, of course, she didn’t know where the money was.”

  “Big surprise. Your sister didn’t know what she was talking about.”

  “I know, right? But, I had to check it out, like I said, she . . .” He stopped in midsentence, took Duke by the arm, and turned him around. “Jesus H. Christ, let me have a look at that knot. Emilio, for God’s sake, I just wanted you to get his attention. I didn’t want you to give him brain damage. Look at that lump.”

  “I know, boss, but I figured with that hard Polack head, I needed to give him a good thump.”

  They all laughed.

  Tony reached into a drawer, and handed Duke a plastic sandwich bag. “Here, get some ice out of the freezer and put it on your lump.”

  Duke walked around the bar and opened the freezer door. As he reached for an ice cube tray, he yelled, “Oh, Mother of Christ,” and he jumped away from the refrigerator, banging into the bar and knocking Tony’s soda to the floor, where it shot foam across the carpet. Tony exploded in laughter, as did Rhino and Emilio.

  “Ain’t that the most gruesome fuckin’ sight you’ve ever seen?” Tony roared, pointing at the decayed and frozen head of Frankie “the Troll” Silvestri. The eye sockets were empty, and dirt was smeared on what gray flesh remained attached to the head. The mouth was agape and caked brown with dirt. Ice crystals were clinging to the scalp and brows.

  “Poor Troll,” Tony said. “He looks like a science experiment gone really bad.”

  “He didn’t look much better when he was alive,” Rhino said.

  Again, they laughed.

  Duke’s urge to vomit was overwhelming. He assumed he was a dead man. Tony continued to laugh.

  “Oh God, Duke, you should have seen the look on your face,” Tony said, snorting. “That was classic. Classic. You looked like you’d seen a ghost.” He held his chest and started to regain control.

  “I gotta tell you something, Duke, and this is funny—if you think that ugly bastard smelled bad when he was alive, you should have gotten a whiff of him after he’d been buried a few months. We had him in the trunk of Emilio’s car, and I was gagging all the way home. It was fuckin’ terrible.”

  Tony walked behind the bar and flipped the freezer door closed.

  “Better keep it cold in there. We don’t want him thawin’ out.”

  He opened the refrigerator and pulled out another Diet Coke, then stepped around the front of the bar and pointed at a chair next to the couch. “Sit down, Duke. We have a lot to discuss.” He snapped open the can, took a drink, then smiled. “Let me tell you something, Ducheski, this is one of the best goddamn days of my life. You’re probably wondering how in the hell the Troll crawled out of that hole, aren’t you?”

  “That question was crossing my mind.” Duke eased into the chair and looked across the room at the front windows. He wondered, if he dove through the window, could he survive a three-story fall? Probably not.

  “Nina and my mom rag my ass until I finally go over and talk to her. She tells me again that she knows where my money is. She tells me you came home one day and told her that you’re going fishing. She thinks it’s bullshit. She thinks you’re going out to hook up with the nurse at the cabin, so she drives out to the cabin to try to catch you screwin’ your brains out. She sees your car, but not the nurse’s, and the cabin is all locked up and dark. She walks down the path a bit and hears you back in the woods. She gets a little closer and sees you digging a hole. She said there was a bright moon and she could see you plain as could be. She figures you’re just digging for bait, so she beats it out of there before you catch her spying on you. You get home that night, and you’re carrying a cup of night crawlers. She starts to wonder why you’d been digging for worms when you already had some, but she doesn’t make the connection right away. It doesn’t mean anything to her until I tell her I can’t help her with her marriage because someone ripped me off for sixty thousand dollars, and that I think her hubby’s pal Moon Pie was involved. Finally, she starts connecting the dots. She figures that was what you were up to—you were helping out your buddy by burying the cash. So she tells me about it. I go out with Rhino and Emilio; we don’t find the money, but we got the next best thing. Do you know what that is?”

  “Tell me.”

  “Proof that you’ve been a very bad boy, Duke. You’ve been lying to me.”

  Despite the throbbing in his head, that evening at the lake was as clear in his mind as that night had been. He had heard the car, but he had dismissed it as his imagination. The stirring in the brush hadn’t been a deer. It had been Nina. “She saw me burying the Troll’s head and thought it was the missing money?”

  “Isn’t that great? Ordinarily, I’d just kill you for this. But, this is better. See, if I’d found the money, you’d just be in the shit. But you buried the severed head of a human being who had been murdered. Do you know what that makes you, Duke?”

  He nodded. “Complicit.”

  “Exactly,” he said, laughing. “Isn’t this great? Now, I’ve got to tell you this. Honest to God, this will just crack you up, too. Remember how I told you that I c
hecked with a source at Mountaineer Park and that no one hit the trifecta the way Moonie said he did?”

  “I remember.”

  “Total bullshit. I just made that up.” He roared with laughter. “Joey Antonelli was worried that word would get out that people were knocking off his couriers, so he says he wants a head to roll for the missing cash—you know, set an example. I picked the most logical suspect—your pal Moonie. It was a guess, a total fuckin’ guess. Can you believe it? I thought it might be him, but I had no proof—none, other than the fact that he was such a dumb-ass that he might think he could pull a stunt like that and get away with it. Can you believe my luck? I sent old Moon Pie to meet the devil on a roll of the dice. Then, presto, the Troll rears his ugly head again, and it’s your dick in the wringer. I’m tellin’ you, Duke, no shit, it’s the greatest goddamn day of my life. How lucky can one guy get?” He grinned and kneeled down in front of Duke. “Duke,” he said, all humor suddenly gone from his voice. “Where’s the money?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Tony sipped at his Diet Coke and set it on the floor next to the chair in which Duke sat. “Okay, we’re going to play a little game. It’s called, ‘Don’t Bullshit Tony.’ It’s a very easy game; here’s how it’s played. I’m going to ask you questions and you will tell me the truth. In exchange for playing the game correctly, we won’t play, ‘Emilio, Go Get the Tin Snips and Start Cutting off Body Parts.’ Understand?”

  Duke nodded.

  “Good. Let’s try this one again. Where’s the money?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Eeeeeech,” Tony said, mimicking a game-show buzzer. “Oh, I’m sorry. Wrong answer. Emilio, it’s time to play your game.”

  “Tony, I’m telling you, I don’t know. I told Moonie I didn’t care what he did with it, but to keep me out of it.”

  “He rips me off for sixty large, and you—”

  “It was fifty-eight thousand, three hundred and twelve dollars.” Tony’s brow arched. “I don’t know what he did with the money. He and the Troll got into a fight because the Troll thought Moonie was going to double-cross him.”

  Tony frowned. “What’s that mean?”

  “The Troll and Moonie had been working together to rip you off for years.”

  “Bullshit,” Tony said, twice poking Duke on the forehead with an index finger. “No one skims from Tony DeMarco and gets away with it.”

  “Moonie and the Troll had been working it for a long time. Moonie said that one time, a couple years back, he and the Troll got greedy and skimmed too much and you figured it out, but they caught a break because you thought Carmine was the one ripping you off. You took your dog down and threatened Carmine that if it ever happened again, you’d sic your dog on him, and then your dog shit on his pool table.”

  Tony’s considerable jaw tightened, and his eyes turned to slits. “The Troll did that? He was the one skimming?”

  Duke shrugged. “I’m just telling you what Moonie told me. He said he would go into Carmine’s about every other week and fill out a gambling sheet and lose intentionally, usually on baseball or college football. On Saturday nights, after the games were over, he and the Troll would hook up somewhere on the other side of the cemetery in New Alexandria, near some quarry. He would fill out the same gambling sheet, but as a winner. The Troll would swap the sheets and take a thousand or so out of the bag for the winnings. Moonie got 50 percent.”

  “You’re lying.”

  He was making it up as he went. Despite the blow to the head, Duke knew he might never walk out of the room if he didn’t convince Tony of his innocence.

  “Moonie was into Carmine for two thousand dollars, but the Troll told him he wouldn’t cover the bets. The Troll said he was worried that you were onto him and the game was over. He told Moonie that he had to pay off the two thousand. Moonie got steamed and told the Troll that he needed some help, and things went south in a hurry. The Troll got skittish that Moonie might rat him out to you, and he didn’t want to leave any witnesses. Apparently that’s how things are done in your world.”

  Duke then related the story that Moonie had told him about the night he killed the Troll.

  Tony said, “That fuckin’ Troll.” He turned and threw his soda can against the wall. “You’re telling me that the Troll and that dumb-ass friend of yours were in cahoots together?”

  “That’s what Moonie told me. I didn’t know anything about it until after the Troll disappeared.”

  “You’re a fuckin’ liar. I didn’t like that smelly little prick, but if the Troll was anything, he was loyal to a fault. He would never rip off the Antonellis. Never.”

  “Is that why his head is in your freezer?”

  Tony paced the room, his palm nervously rolling over his chin. It was several minutes before he was ready to continue. “So the Troll’s dead, Moon Pie is dead, and my money is still missing. Well, let me correct myself: Joseph Antonelli’s money is still missing. So, the more immediate question is, what are we going to do about you, Mr. Ducheski? The way I see it, we have a couple of problems, here. One, you lied to me. When I told you I thought Moonie was involved, you said he wasn’t. You knew all along.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth. “Of course, I understand that. I mean, you were trying to save your own ass.” Tony reached down and cupped Duke’s chin in his thick right hand. “But, I hate to be lied to, and I’m very upset about that. Two, it appears to me by the evidence in that freezer that you are guilty of conspiracy to commit murder. Oh, the ugly, ugly headlines that could create. And last, but certainly not least, you went to Chief Jaynes and told him that I killed Moonie, didn’t you?”

  There was no reason to lie about this. The chief had no doubt gone to Tony after his visit. “You killed my best friend in the world, Tony. Yeah, I went to him. Hell of a lot of good it did.”

  “I’m a little disappointed in you, Duke. I run this town. Did you really think that the chief wasn’t in my pocket?”

  “Apparently, I should have.”

  “Yes, you should have. The next time you see the chief, you be sure to thank that fat fuck for your sorry life, because after I found the head and heard you had talked to him, I was ready to put a twenty-two shell in your brain. But, the chief talked me out of it. He said it would draw too much attention. You know, kill a dipstick like Moonie Collier, and who gives a rat’s ass? But kill the great Duke Ducheski in Mingo Junction, that could cause some serious problems. I still want to kill you, but the chief came up with a better idea.”

  Tony opened the refrigerator and removed another soda. He snapped it open and allowed his words to hang in the air. He was thoroughly enjoying both the moment and his continued dominance over the former basketball star. When Tony offered no explanation of his plans, Duke raised his bleary eyes and asked, “What is it?”

  “In exchange for your life, pitiful as it is, you’re going to give us total access to Duke’s Place,” Tony said.

  Duke’s mouth dropped. “What? No way.”

  “It’s not even up for discussion. Here’s how it’s going to work. First of all, from here on out, you’re doing things my way. Period. No questions asked. Beginning tomorrow, you’ll have spot sheets in the restaurant. In fact . . .” Tony picked a manila envelope off the bar and sent it sailing like a Frisbee toward Duke, who let it hit his shoulder and fall to the floor. “There’s next week’s sheets. I expect to see them on the bar when you open tomorrow. We’ll give you a weekly list of anything else that we’re making odds on—elections, the Academy Awards, whatever. It’s all very simple. And, you will take the bets. And, for the privilege of handling my spot sheets, I’ll take 15 percent of your gross income for the first year, adjusted by 2 percent each year following. I’ll have a contract drawn up that spells that out, and you will sign it. Rhino and Emilio will drop in from time to time to make sure everything is going well. They drink on the house. Consider them your business and financial advisers.”

  Duke look
ed up, fighting both tears of rage and tears of desperation. “Maybe it would be better if you just shot me.”

  “I thought of that. And, I thought you might want to fight me on this. So, I’m taking some precautions.” He reached down behind the bar and pulled up a bowling bag—red, with white diagonal stripes. “Recognize this?”

  “Of course,” Duke said.

  “I found it in your basement. So, can you guess what we’re going to put in this bag?”

  Duke knew. It was to be the ossuary for the Troll’s head.

  “It’ll be a perfect fit. Rhino and Emilio are going out to bury it somewhere within the city limits. If you renege on our little arrangement, I’ll direct the chief to the Troll’s grave. Of course, he’ll find the head buried in your bowling bag. See,” he said, pointing to the tag bearing Duke’s name. “You were in such a tizzy when you buried the poor man’s head, you forgot to remove the name tag. And, while you were knocked out, I plucked some of your hairs and put them in here, and there’s a balled up handkerchief with your blood that I wiped off that cut over your eye. So, not only will they have your bowling bag, but they’ll have some wonderful DNA evidence, too. All of a sudden, you’ll be known for something other than one lucky jump shot.”

  Duke turned his head and stared into the hateful but gleaming eyes of Tony DeMarco.

  “I win, motherfucker. Oh, and one more thing. No divorce. My sister wants to stay married, so your ass stays married. I want those divorce papers withdrawn this week, and stay away from that nurse. Now, pick up your spot sheets and get your Polack ass out of my house.”

  Duke had lost the opal necklace. He couldn’t remember if it had been in his hand or pocket when he got whacked in the head, but it was gone. Soon, it would probably be adorning the neck of one of Rhino’s lady friends. The first rays of sun were entering the valley when he got back to the restaurant. He called the mill and reported off work, then staggered back and crashed on the couch in his office. He was still there when the cook shook his shoulder and informed him that two men were waiting for him at the bar.