Keeplock: A Novel of Crime

by Stephen Solomita

  I controlled myself by thinking of Ginny. I was still haunted by dreams, but I didn’t carry them into the daylight. The stakes were too high. Later, maybe, I’d have to pay a price. I’d look in the mirror and know myself for a coward. A man without the courage to give up all hope for an ordinary life with the woman he loved. To give it up and go back to the tender bosom of a New York State Max A Institution.

  “Look, boys,” I said, “you’re only gonna get one more chance to play it straight. After tomorrow, you’re not gonna see me again.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Rico demanded. He was sniffing the air like a dog.

  “Eddie’s rule. I told you about it last week. Everybody comes indoors three days before the job. Ya know, I can’t tell you how much I’m gonna miss these conversations.” I was lying. Eddie, after a great deal of persuasion (when women do it, it’s called nagging) had agreed to give me another night of freedom. I was going to spend it with Ginny, and the fact that Eddie’s place wasn’t being watched didn’t make it any harder.

  “This is bullshit. You never told us nothin’.” Rico was livid.

  “Yeah, he did.” Condon looked disgusted. “He told us on Friday. I got it in my notes.”

  “Now listen carefully,” I said. “After tomorrow, you’re not gonna get another chance to make this thing right. If you fuck it up tomorrow, you lose everything. I wanna know what’s going on. And I especially wanna know exactly when my part is over and I can walk away.”

  The message must have gotten through, because the next night Condon finally gave me the details. The cops would be waiting inside the loading area behind Stern’s. They’d disarm me and Eddie, then surround the van. Morasso could come out or not, as he chose. Parker’s fate would rest in his hands. As for Avi, he’d be taken when he stepped out of his car behind the schoolhouse. The rifle, broken-down, would be in a small suitcase. Eddie had insisted that Avi not carry a pistol on the street; he’d called it “unacceptable risk.”

  After the arrests, we—those of us who were left—would be taken directly to Central Booking. We’d be fingerprinted, photographed and searched, then separated, which is routine in a big case. I’d give a statement directly to Condon and Rico, then walk out the front door.

  “I don’t think you’ll have to testify,” Condon explained. “Eddie and them’ll plead. We’re takin’ them in the act, for Christ’s sake. But they’re gonna know who ratted them out. When you don’t turn up at Rikers or the Men’s House in Queens, they’ll know it was you. We got a place for you to stay up in the Bronx. Until after they plead.”

  “I’ll get a place of my own.”

  Ginny was already working on it. She’d promised a rent-stabilized apartment in the Sheepshead Bay section of Brooklyn by Saturday. Real estate was her field and she’d done enough favors over the years to make the whole thing routine.

  “Yeah?” Condon shrugged, then gave Rico another meaningful look. “It’s your life, Frangello. Just make sure you’re available. You’re gonna have to give a sworn deposition to the prosecutor.”

  “I’m still on parole.”

  “This I already know.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  IT WAS ALMOST NINE-THIRTY when I got to Ginny’s. I opened the door to find the apartment completely dark. My hand went to my belt, looking for the gun I’d left in the car. Then the lights flashed on and I was staring at a mass of balloons and hanging crepe paper. The table was set in the dining room, complete with pointy hats and noisemakers.

  “Surprise!”

  “Goddamn it, Ginny, you scared the hell out of me. It’s not my birthday.”

  “It’s your re-birthday we’re celebrating.” Ginny held up a bottle of champagne. As the days went by, she was looking more and more tired. Without having gone through it, there was no way she could understand how important it is to pace yourself, to save your energy for when it’s needed. Though she never complained, I had the feeling that her low would be just as sharp as the high that had followed my sudden reappearance in her life.

  But her smile was as bright as ever. It was full of hope, an emotion almost unknown to me. Standing in the doorway, my heart still pounding away, I had a quick flash of myself returning after the arrests. Of Ginny waiting in the hall as I came out of the elevator, her eyes filled with tears of joy. Or glowing with pride. Or bright with desire.

  “Ya know, I haven’t done much drinking since I got out. Be warned. When I get drunk, I’m liable to do anything.”

  “Promises, promises. That’s all I ever get.”

  We drank most of the champagne over dinner. Ashamed as I am to admit it, I have to report that I got drunk and let her take advantage of me. We were on the couch before we cleared the table. If Ginny had been hungry before, she was ravenous now. There was no foreplay. She pushed my cock inside her, jammed her knees against my thighs, grabbed the balls of my ass, and we were off to the races. I did the gentlemanly thing and rode her until she was exhausted.

  Somehow we ended up in the bathtub. It was a narrow fit, but I’m not sure that was a disadvantage. Once again I played the part of the gentleman and took the end with the faucets. Ginny was lying back, a towel behind her head, while I sat up straight, trying to avoid the cold metal. Her legs, however, did come up along my shoulders and I was able to run a soapy washcloth down her calf, her knee, her thigh …

  “What happened with Condon and Rico?” she asked.

  So much for romance. I gave her the essentials of the meeting, hoping to return to her leg as soon as possible. We’d taken the champagne into the bathroom with us and I was too far gone to see the effect my story had on her. She pulled away as soon as I touched her.

  “I don’t understand what Condon meant when he said Morasso could come out of the van or not come out. How can he be arrested if he doesn’t come out?”

  Ginny had been drinking, too. Just enough to avoid the obvious, to make me spell it out for her.

  “Morasso’s an M.O. It’s hard to predict exactly what he’ll do.”

  “What’s an M.O.?”

  “It stands for ‘mental observation’ and it means a prisoner is crazy enough for the hacks to notice, but not crazy enough to be separated from the rest of the convicts. The cons mostly use the word ‘bug’ to describe the same situation. Morasso’s a bug.”

  “That means he might decide to fight it out. Go down in a blaze of glory.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  “But what about Parker? He’ll be in the van with Tony.”

  “That’s also true.”

  “So what you’re saying is that if Morasso decides to fight, John Parker will be killed.”

  “Ginny, if Morasso and Parker don’t come out of that van, the pigs’ll put so many holes in it, you won’t need the air conditioner in August. What’d you think, it was gonna be free? I’d whisper a few words into Condon’s ear and all my problems would blow away? Somebody has to pay, Ginny, and what I’m doing is trading their payment for mine. ‘Okay, Officer Condon, here’s the deal. I’ll give you a hundred years of other people’s time if you’ll give me five years of my time.’”

  She got out of the tub and began to dry herself. You don’t often get to see a woman both naked and unaware of her nakedness, but Ginny was so wrapped up in her thoughts, I might as well have been on Mars. She’d dried herself completely before she got it straight.

  “I’m part of it, too,” she said, turning to face me. “I listen to everything you say. I encourage you, help you plan for the unexpected. If Parker gets killed, then I’m also responsible.”

  “Spoken like a true Christian.”

  Her face reddened with anger. “You keep hiding behind that attitude. Why don’t you tell me what you really think.”

  I pulled myself out of the water and reached for a towel. “You want me to say it’s okay?”

  “I don’t know what I want. I’m new at this, remember?”

  “Yeah, well this world isn’t about ri
ght and wrong. There are no good guys here. Everybody’s got their own brand of bullshit. This is about survival. I’m a wise guy because it helps me not to feel sorry for myself.”

  “What about Simon? He wants to help you.”

  “Simon’s a decent guy. He’d like to do the right thing, but he can’t. He’s trapped by the system. For instance, I came out of jail and Simon shipped me out to a battle zone. He said, ‘This is your new home, Pete. Try to be a good boy.’ If I’d bothered to say, ‘Simon, how do you expect me to follow the guidelines for parole if I have to live in a battle zone?’ Simon would have responded with his own helplessness. The politicians have sold him out. There’s no money for programs or decent housing or job training. What can he do?

  “It’s no different with the cops. They know Calvin got what he deserved. Just like they knew you didn’t rip off that bodega. But the end justifies the means. Criminals must be stopped. Arrests must be made. Careers must be furthered.

  “Eddie’s got his own brand of bullshit. ‘Guys like us, cuz, we never had a chance.’ Parker? Avi? It’s the same with both of them. Ask them and they’ll catalogue all the evil society’s done to them. Well, I don’t want that, Ginny. It doesn’t work for me. I can’t go back to jail and I’m doing what I have to do.”

  I was lying, of course. I’d left out the bit about Ginny and the straw and the camel. She was part and parcel of my long rat tail, my shiny rat whiskers.

  “What about me?” she asked quietly. “What’s my bullshit?”

  “That’s not for me to say.”

  “I don’t owe Eddie Conte a damn thing. I don’t care what happens to him.”

  “Spoken like a true Christian.”

  Her face reddened again, this time from embarrassment. She started to speak, stopped, then started again. “I need you and I’m willing to sacrifice people I don’t even know to keep you. The rest of it—the arrest, the strip-search, the dyke—is pure fantasy.”

  “Actually, you haven’t sacrificed anyone. If you recall, I jumped off this particular cliff without consulting you.”

  I put my arms around her and pulled her close to me. She resisted for a moment, then laid her head on my shoulder.

  “I’m tired,” she admitted. “I’ve been tired for a long time.”

  “Ya know something, I don’t sleep too well, either.”

  I told her about the dreams and what had happened to me in the Cortlandt psych unit. When I’d finished, it was her turn to play the parent. Her arms encircled my neck and she gently kissed my mouth.

  “It’ll be over soon, and when it’s over, you’ll come to stay with me. No more shelters. We’ll live happily ever after.”

  “Happier ever after is more like it. Ya know, we forgot the dessert.”

  “Right. I have a key lime ice cream pie from Baskin Robbins in the freezer. And I think I have some brandy in the cabinet.”

  She got me drunk. Again. With the same result. When I woke up (at six o’clock, as usual), my head was pounding and my bowels felt like they were ready to explode. I stumbled into the bathroom and somehow managed to put my butt on the seat and my head in the sink at the same time, a strategy that gave me just enough strength to get into the shower. The shower gave me the strength to gargle, brush my teeth, and shave. By the time I finished, I felt as close to being human as I ever got.

  Ginny was sitting up in bed when I came out of the bathroom. I don’t know if it was the alcohol or the situation—it might have been both—but she looked almost haggard.

  “You hung over?”

  She shook her head. “I keep thinking about all the things that can go wrong.”

  “In a couple of hours I’ll be gone.”

  “What?”

  “It’s time to suck it up. There’s no going back, anyway. I’ll get breakfast ready while you’re in the shower.”

  Once I got a cup of coffee down, I began to feel good. Maybe a soldier is only happy when he’s going into combat. True, there was an element of fear, but there was excitement, too. Like sitting in the front car of one of those loop-the-loop roller coasters while the other riders are being loaded. Ginny picked up on my attitude the minute she entered the room.

  “You’re different this morning.”

  “Yeah. I feel good. The bullshit is finally over and I can go to work.”

  “Is that the way you see it? As work?”

  “It’s not like I made a decision, Ginny.” She stared at me blankly. “Let’s face it, this is what I do best. Dreams give me problems, but I can handle the reality. Practice makes perfect and all that crap.”

  “I haven’t had that much practice.”

  “Ginny, it’s Friday morning. By Saturday night it’ll be over. And don’t worry about Parker and Morasso. I’d bet my right arm there’ll be more than a hundred cops in that shopping center—cops don’t care for even-money situations—and they aren’t going to start shooting without giving Parker and Morasso a chance to come out. Too many witnesses. Condon and Rico are probably rehearsing their press interviews even as we speak.

  “And there’s something else I forgot to mention. For a while I was thinking about going through with the job. I was gonna invent a bullshit story for Condon and Rico, rip off the armored car, and run as far and as fast as I could. If I’d gone that route, it’s even money that Eddie would have tried to kill me. I disrespected him. I took his gun and put it in my pocket. You already know about his plans for Morasso. Why should it be different for me? Because we’re old prison buddies? Eddie wants the money. Eddie’s slick and devious. Eddie needs revenge.”

  “And you’re just getting him before he gets you? You told me you didn’t need excuses.”

  “I don’t. You do. What do you want for breakfast?”

  We ate in silence. It was so wrong, it felt right. It felt like all the upside-down schemes I’d been pursuing all my life. The funny part was that I knew it wouldn’t make any difference. If Ginny was having second thoughts—if she told me it would never work out between us—I’d still keep my end of the bargain.

  “You sorry, Ginny?”

  “Sorry about what?”

  “That I jumped back into your life.”

  Instead of tossing out the first line that came into her head, she thought about it for moment. Then she looked up at me. “I want you in the worst way. Fuck Eddie and Morasso. Fuck Parker and Avi. Fuck all of them. I want you and this is the only way I can get you. It’s wrong and I know it, but that’s the way I feel.” It was exactly what she’d said the night before, though I doubt she was aware of it.

  I started to say something, but she silenced me with a wave of her hand. “Just be careful. There’s a lot of things that can go wrong. Don’t turn your back on Tony Morasso for one second. He’s going to be coming off the drugs and—”

  “Ginny?”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you. You love me. And we all know the gods look out for lovers. You want more toast?”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  IT’S TEMPTING—ESPECIALLY FOR people whose lives are filled with awful deeds, both given and taken—to see all human beings as equally corrupt. The sadistic C.O. who routinely brutalizes inmates becomes every C.O. in the Institution. The career bureaucrat who views clients as pieces of paper to be shuffled onto someone else’s desk becomes every parole officer in the system. I’d included Simon Cooper in my cynical little speech to Ginny and it wasn’t fair. Simon had gone the extra yard for me on more than one occasion. He’d stepped outside the system far enough to cause serious trouble for himself if his deeds came to light. What he was doing for me now—acting as a guarantee for my eventual freedom—was in no way part of his job description. I was wrong and I knew it.

  So what I did by way of atonement was call him one last time with my bullshit. I found a pay phone in a drugstore on Queens Boulevard and got him on the second ring. Lucky Simon.

  “It’s Pete.”

  “Pete? You got a problem?” His voice was filled with concern.
It made me feel much better.

  “No problems. I just wanna let you know that I’m on my way to Eddie’s. I’ll be out of touch until it’s over.”

  “What about Condon and Rico? They ease up any?”

  “They’ve been keeping their hands to themselves, but they can’t control their mouths. I expect they’ll hold up their end. There’s not much else they can do.”

  “There’s still a hundred ways things could go wrong.”

  “This is true.”

  “You call me Saturday night after it’s over. If I don’t hear from you, I’m gonna turn up some rocks. See what’s hiding in the dark. Hell, I’d be there, if I could. Right when the bust goes down. I asked Condon for permission to attend.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “He laughed. Told me it was none of my business.”

  “No surprise. If somebody starts shooting, the cops don’t want any witnesses.”

  “But I am an officer of law enforcement. I carry a gun and I arrest parole violators routinely. It’s not like I’m a civilian.”

  “Simon, you worry too much. I’ll call you on Saturday night.”

  “Be careful, Pete. Watch out for Avi Stern. If Eddie decides to move on you before tomorrow night, he’ll use Avi. And, Pete …”

  Great. Now I had a mommy and a daddy. Maybe I’d be adopted, after all.

  The kennel in Woodhaven was seething when I arrived at ten-thirty. Eddie started barking the minute I came through the door.

  “You’re late, cuz. You asked for an extra day and I was nice enough to let ya have it. You at least coulda got here on time.”

  Annie was standing next to him. She was wearing a pair of green gym shorts and a red halter. No bra and, as far as I could tell, no panties, either. As the job drew closer, she was becoming more and more aroused. It added a nice flavor to the tension.