Tales of River City

by Frank Zafiro

  There was one thing left for me in La Sombra.

  The next morning, I drove over to her small house. I knew it well. I’d given her a ride home from Tres Estrellas a few times. Once, we even shared a cup of coffee at her kitchen table. She told me her dream was to buy the Tres.

  “So do it,” I’d told her. “If it’s your dream, do it.”

  “Oh, Carlos,” she said with a sad, knowing smile. “No banker is going to give this senorita a loan.”

  “Maybe they would.”

  She’d only shaken her head and said, “No, it’s all about numeros y dinero. I have no collateral.” She sighed and smiled tiredly at me. “Working there is as close as I’ll get to my dream.”

  “You should never give up.”

  “Who said I gave up?” Her tired smile perked up a bit. “What about you, Carlos? What’s your dream?”

  I never told her. Not that night. Not ever.

  Maybe the looks she cast my way were true and maybe they weren’t, but I needed to know. I knew I wasn’t going to find out inside the Tres, so it had to be at her house.

  I stopped half a block away and stared.

  I rubbed my eyes and stared some more.

  Jack Talbott’s oversized red truck sat prominently in her driveway.

  I stared and stared, a hole of fire burning in my chest. I stared until it had burned out everything that mattered. Then I left before I had to see that son of a bitch saunter out her door and to his truck.

  The badge clattered onto the Chief’s desk. He looked up at me from his newspaper.

  “What’s this?” he growled.

  I dropped my issued gun belt next to the badge. “You got your way,” I told him.

  He folded the newspaper and regarded the gun and badge in front of him. Then he looked up at me. “I didn’t figure no Yankee’d last round here.”

  “You crooked bastard,” I whispered.

  The Chief laughed and returned to his paper. “Crooked? Oh, that’s good. That’s good.”

  I turned away and headed toward the door.

  Behind me, the Chief continued to chuckle into his newspaper.

  I tucked the two manila envelopes into my backpack and zipped it shut. The sound held a sort of finality to it, but I didn’t mind.

  There was a knock at the door. I shouldered the bag and strode across the room.

  Wes stood on my porch. He gave me an embarrassed grin when I opened the door.

  “Hey, Carl.”

  “Wes.”

  “You really leaving?”

  “Really.”

  He sighed. “Madre Mio, Carl. I’m sorry.”

  I waved his apology away. “It doesn’t matter.” I handed him my keys. “Just send whatever money you can get for this stuff to my parents’ house in California. The address is in an envelope on the kitchen counter.”

  He nodded. “All right. I can do that.”

  “Square up the rent with Mrs. Gallion first, though.”

  “Sure.”

  I held out my hand. “Good knowing you, Wes.”

  He took my hand and clenched it tightly. “Hasta Siempre, Carl.”

  I cut the motorcycle engine in the bare parking lot outside the Tres. It was early yet, but the neon “OPEN” signed burned a blood red in the small window next to the front door. Below it, a new sign pronounced, “Under New Management.” Beneath those words, a picture of a beaming Isabella smiled out at me.

  She found her dream. She got her chance and she took it.

  I wanted to go inside and ask her if it was worth it. If she felt like she’d given up something more than the obvious that night she let Jack Talbott into her bed. I wanted to think that he played her just to get to me, but I didn’t want to hear her answer. I didn’t want to hear that she’d played him, that this was the way the world worked and that dreams weren’t free.

  Most of all, I didn’t want to see her again now that everything had changed. I didn’t want to admit that she was only a shadow of a dream. I wanted my last memory of her to be that mysterious, smoky gaze she gave me from across the bar.

  I thought about the envelopes in my backpack, one addressed to the Texas Attorney General and the other one to the U.S. Attorney General. Maybe they’d make a difference and maybe they wouldn’t. I’d mail them once I hit El Paso.

  After that, I was turning north. I knew if I went south, all I’d find would be pale imitations of Isabella. Maybe I’d find my dream somewhere else up north, if the price wasn’t too high.

  Or maybe I’d just have to accept that some dreams don’t come true.

  I started the motorcycle and swung a wide, slow circle in the gravel lot. Once I hit the main street, I goosed the accelerator and headed out of Jack’s Town for good.

  NOTES

  As in each River City anthology, all of these stories should stand on their own, but I do believe that the crossover elements and intertwining of characters and story lines is something that most readers find intriguing. Some stories provide a little glimpse into a heretofore minor character, or a closer look at a character we know already. What follows are some facts and tidbits about the stories in this collection. I hope you find at least some of it interesting.

  Please note that I will, at times, reference works that aren’t yet published. I’ll only do this if it is, in fact, a work that I have already (or mostly) finished and that I believe will, in fact, see the light of day…hopefully sooner rather than later.

  Five For Fighting And A Murder Misconduct first appeared in the July/August 2006 issue of Futures Mystery Anthology Magazine. Kopriva is the darling of Under a Raging Moon and then becomes the tragic hero of Heroes Often Fail. Except for a few brief appearances in Beneath a Weeping Sky, he all but disappears from the River City stage after that. He is the main character in a yet unpublished book called Waist Deep, and it is from that novel that the character of Matt Sinderling comes. “Five for Fighting and a Murder Misconduct” happens in the Fall after the events in Waist Deep (2005). Kopriva has found some measure of redemption but is still carrying around a lot of Amy Dugger guilt, as is surely apparent in the pages of this story.

  Beaten By Anger first appeared in the 2006 anthology Seven By Seven. The relation to the previous story should be obvious. This story was my “Wrath” entry for the Seven by Seven anthology.

  Cassie first appeared in the Fall 2007 issue of Yellow Mama. Cassie is a character most of you won’t meet until Waist Deep. Some of the events in that book are foreshadowed here, but even without having read that novel, I think the dynamics of this relationship are clear…or unclear, which is kind of the point.

  Shae first appeared in the February 2006 issue of Crime and Suspense It was reprinted in the Spring 2008 issue of Mysterical-E.

  Laddie first appeared in the July 2006 issue of Crime and Suspense. It was reprinted in the Summer 2008 issue of Mysterical-E.

  A New Life first appeared in the Fall 2008 issue of Mysterical-E.

  Egyptian Eyes and Irish Lies first appeared in the Winter 2008 issue of Mysterical-E.

  Shae and Laddie are a fun couple to write about. Writing from the perspective of one and then the other was also a good time. I narrated an audio version of these stories to accompany their publication in Mysterical-E (They are probably still available in that magazine’s archives).

  What’s the point of Shae and Laddie? Well, I think two themes emerge. One is that we are a slave to our nature. The other is that some attractions are unstoppable. I suppose a third theme finds its way into these stories, too: love is universal. It doesn’t matter if you’re a cop or a crook, a sinner or a saint. You feel it.

  No Worse Curse is previously unpublished. This was a ‘bridesmaid’ story a couple of times. In other words, it was slated to appear in a couple of different anthologies but both collections never came to fruition. When I realized that there was a connection here between Shae and these jokers, I figured it needed to be included with Shae and Laddie.

  Being of Irish and It
alian descent, I remain unapologetic for the digs at the English. Of course, given that I’m as much English as either of the other two, what can I say?

  This story has one of my favorite endings.

  Gently Used is a previously unpublished. It was a hard story to place, because while it involves cops, it really isn’t a mystery or a procedural. And while it has some literary leanings, it is too sexually graphic for most of those venues. I tried a number of different approaches, but simply couldn’t find a home for it. Maybe the story sucks, but I don’t think so. Several different women who read it had quite visceral reactions. Some had difficulty with it being Connor O’Sullivan’s story – they wanted to hear more about Lauren. Or they simply hated Sully, which I suppose is fair enough. The way he treats Lauren is admittedly shitty. In fact, that’s the point. This happens at a time in Sully’s life right between Beneath a Weeping Sky and And Every Man Has to Die. Sully is not atypical of we humans, in that he has a conscience but doesn’t always act in accordance with it. Of all the men who used Lauren for sex, he knows he’s no better and no different…except that he feels guilty for it, and is therefore in the minority. Does that excuse his actions? Nope. Does it make him any better or worse than those others? Well, I guess that’s the dilemma at the core of this story. Does the way someone feels about an action matter, even if the outcome is the same?

  No Good Deed first appeared in January/February 2005 issue of A Cruel World. This earlier version of the story has the Battaglia children a little younger than the current incarnation, but that change was necessary to fit in with the events in And Every Man Has to Die. This story also serves as a prologue of sorts for the forthcoming novella Nor Shadowed Heart. Nor Shadowed Heart picks up right after Sully returns from his ten day suspension

  From the Roof first appeared in June 2007 at Amazon Shorts. It’s the first story actually starring Glen Bates, though he appears in any number of other ones as a minor character. Here, he is the veteran trainer working with the rookie. This is a scenario that has played itself out in reality tens of thousands of times.I’ve been on both sides of this equation in my years as a cop. Even though most of my tenure has been on the mentor side, I still remember those thoughts and emotions when you’re the rookie. Trying to learn, trying to make a good impression. Being a probationary police officer is probably one of the most stressful times in anyone’s professional life.

  Take a Hand first appeared in the anthology The Ex Factor, in 2006 . Bates again, this time after he has retired from the River City PD. His crappy relationship with his son is something that I think isn’t altogether uncommon for police officers to encounter, at least at times. Cops have a particular view of the world, and it isn’t always one that translates well to parenting. I hope it is clear in this story how much Glen Bates still loves his son, in spite of everything.

  In the Shadow of El Paso first appeared in the 2007 anthology, Map of Murder (Red Coyote Press).

  Jack’s Town is previously unpublished.

  Both of these stories take place in the fictional West Texas town of La Sombra, outside of El Paso. The inspiration for these tales was a mish-mash of original thoughts and outside influences. I wanted to write something with a Texas flavor, as the Lone Star State has always been my second favorite state after my native Washington. I also felt the influence of the Marty Robbins song “El Paso” and Springsteen’s “The Line.” In fact, the name of the narrator is an homage to the latter.

  I also wanted to capture the character of Isabella as that mysterious, sensual, “perfect” woman that most men desire at some point in their lives. I wanted to show that such women do not exist except in our own minds – every one of them is a real woman when you get right down to it. A real person, with far greater wonder and weaknesses than that fantasy image. My means of making this point was two-fold. One, Carl doesn’t “get” the girl. Two, her actions, particularly in “Jack’s Town,” show her own humanity.

  The issue of domestic violence shows up in “Jack’s Town.” This is something I’ve seen far too much of in my “other” career for it not to make an appearance somewhere here.

  I also try to explore classism and social dynamics in both of these stories, both in comparing the Mexicans to the Texans, the Texans to the New Mexico cowboys, Jack Talbott to the rest of La Sombra, and the citizenry of La Sombra to Carl, the outsider, even though he’s been there for years.

  All of this may not even register with the reader, which is fine. This is a short story, not an essay. Still, these were the things that were on my mind as I penned these two Texas tales.

  The Cleaner

  A River City Anthology

  By

  Frank Zafiro

  The Cleaner: A River City Anthology

  By Frank Zafiro

  Copyright 2010 Frank Scalise

  Cover Design by Frank Scalise and Jonathon Scinto

  ISBN 1453855637 / 9781453855638

  For La Bruja Vieja.

  Foreword

  I’ve been writing about River City since about 2004. Back in 1995, I wrote the first draft of Under a Raging Moon, but back then it was still Spokane, Washington. It didn’t become River City until around 2004 or 2005, when I started writing more short stories using the characters from the novels.

  These characters are mostly in support roles (or have never even appeared) in the novels. Here, in these short tales, they get to be the star. Sure, it isn’t as grand as a novel, but it’s something, right?

  There’s no theme here, unlike a couple of other River City anthologies (Dead Even and No Good Deed). These are the one-offs that don’t fit under a simple theme or a run of several stories for a single character. I don’t know that they’d find a more perfect home than simply being bound up with others like themselves and plopped down here (hopefully for your enjoyment).

  There are some notes at the end about each story – its publication history, how it came to be, my thoughts on it and so forth. You might find it interesting, or you might skip it. That’s up to you, of course. You paid for the book.

  But here I just wanted to express gratitude to all of the readers out there who have supported stories like these in anthologies or magazines. I may have written them whether or not you’d read them, but it sure is more satisfying when you do.

  Frank

  Summer 2010

  Helping Out

  “You’re a cop, right?”

  Those are the words you most hate to hear. What follows is always a request for advice or actions that will either get you jammed up or leave the person asking the question disappointed.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m a cop.”

  He pointed to the spot next to me on the bleachers. “You mind?”

  He was going to sit down and ask me something that I already knew I didn’t want any part of, so yeah, I minded quite a bit. But what was I supposed to do? If I put him off, it just served to fulfill the asshole-cop stereotype that didn’t exactly need much help to stay afloat, anyway.

  “Go ahead,” I said.

  The kids were in the middle of the fourth inning and the game was already a blowout. My boy was sitting at the end of the bench, hanging his head. He’d missed a hot grounder at second base in the last inning. That error started the other team’s rally. His slumped shoulders showed he was feeling the weight.

  My new friend sat down next to me. I only knew him as “Sean’s Dad.” Sean played first base, a tall and lanky left-hander. I wondered for a second if Sean’s Dad knew my name or if I was “Jared’s Dad” to him. Probably, though, I was “The Cop.”

  “What gave me away?” I asked and gestured at my dirty jeans and t-shirt. I’d been building a small deck at my ex-wife’s house all day and there hadn’t been enough time to change before Jared’s game.

  He didn’t smile. His face was painted with an underlying worry, as if he were haunted by something. “I heard some of the other parents talking.”

  It figured.

  “How long have you b
een a cop?” he asked me.

  I couldn’t tell if he was being polite or conducting a job interview, so I just said, “A while. Did you have a question about something?”

  He pressed his lips together, then licked them nervously. “Kinda.”

  I waited.

  He looked over at the bench where our kids sat, then back at me. “It’s about Sean,” he said.

  “Is he in some kind of trouble?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head emphatically. “Sean’s a good kid. It’s his mother.”

  “His mother?”

  He nodded. “My ex-wife, Jean.”

  I looked at him and waited for him to continue.

  He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “It’s awkward telling a stranger about things like this,” he said.

  “It can be,” I agreed. “Then again, sometimes it’s easier.”

  “She hasn’t seen him in nearly a year,” he said without looking at me. “He misses her.”

  “Why hasn’t she seen him?”

  “She doesn’t want to. Besides that, I won’t let her.”

  I paused. Then, “Why’s that?”

  He glanced up at me. “Which one?”

  I gave him a confused look. “You’re going to have to start over. I’m not following you.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “When we first split up about a year and a half ago, Jean went crazy with partying. She ran with a rough crowd, too. She’d go months without calling or seeing Sean. She’d set up times to take him for a visit and then wouldn’t show up. It broke his heart.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Can you?” he asked, looking at me sharply. After a moment, his features softened and he apologized. “Sorry. I guess I get a little emotional about the situation.”