by S. W. Lauden
“I’m not sure that will do me much good. It seems like I’m a little outnumbered.”
“Take the gun. It ain’t loaded anyways.”
Greg brought his right arm up slowly and took the 9mm. It felt light without the clip.
“Hold it up like you were holding your gun that day.”
There was no point in resisting, so Greg did as he was told.
“Perfecto. Let’s pretend that I’m that kid you shot. It shouldn’t be hard since everybody always said we looked the same.”
Manny lifted his arms up, palms down, and started to slowly spin in place. He made two complete turns and then stopped facing Greg again.
“Did you see a gun?”
“No.”
“Exactly. So when you go to testify, that’s exactly what I want you to tell the judge.”
“Got it. But I think we can skip all the theatrics—”
Manny took two steps forward and brought an effortless roundhouse kick across his face. Greg staggered to his left and dropped the gun that went clattering across the floor. He managed to stay on his feet but his eyes felt like they were bouncing around in their sockets. Somebody pushed him back into the center of the circle from behind.
“You’re not in charge here, pig.”
“Fine. Let’s do it your way. ‘There was no gun, your honor.’”
“Good. Just keep saying that until it’s automatic. Now, let’s talk about my brother.”
Greg searched his mind. He couldn’t remember ever meeting Manny’s younger brother.
“I didn’t know he was your brother. I didn’t know anything about him at all.”
Greg was trying to keep the pleading out of his voice. It was getting harder as Manny circled him. He wasn’t sure how much more punishment he could take.
“I was just responding to a call, doing my job.”
“I know, pig. I actually feel for you. Cops are like a necessary evil where I come from.”
“You mean Virgil Heights?”
“What do you know about that. So you do remember me?”
There were a million things Greg wanted to say in response. The thought of another kick to the head helped him keep his mouth shut.
“You know, it was only a matter of time before that little shit got himself shot. I’m just glad it was a cop and not another homie. Those dudes shoot to kill.”
“I’ll tell the judge whatever you want. It won’t matter because the woman he attacked will testify about the gun. There’s nothing I can do about that.”
“Last I checked nobody found a gun, so it will be your word against hers.”
More chuckling from the peanut gallery. The truth was slowly starting to dawn on Greg.
“You guys got to the gun before the police arrived. You were in the crowd that night...”
“Maybe we were, maybe we weren’t.”
“Well your brother will still do time for the sexual assault and robbery.”
“Sexual assault? Shit, I bet that bitch loved every minute of it. But that don’t matter, he was just following orders.”
“What kind of animal would order a kid to rape an old lady?”
“’Old lady’? Dude, you should get a mirror. I bet you two are the same age.”
It was Manny’s turn to laugh.
“We were just sending a message to her stupid son.”
“Well, I hope it was worth it.”
“My brother didn’t plan on getting shot by a cop, but you know what? I think prison will be good for him. He’ll have protection in there and when he gets out in a couple of years he’ll be ready to join the family business, for reals. Just like his big brother.”
Greg’s time on the force had taught him that prison could be like college for wannabe gangsters. They go in young and weak, and come out angry and strong. Or they don’t come out at all.
“It sounds like we have an understanding. Ain’t that right, pig?”
Greg gave a tight-lipped nod.
“Good, but don’t fuck with me. If you do anything stupid I’ll take my anger out on your girlfriend and her kid. Could be fun. It seems like you’re into big girls just as much as I am.”
Greg’s head snapped up at the mention of Junior and Chris.
“Just like you did with Ricky?”
“You mean that mess at the bar? I got nothing to say about that.”
A forearm slid around Greg’s throat before he could respond. Several men swooped in and spun him in the direction of the loading dock doors. The green Impala was waiting with the trunk propped open like the gaping mouth of a leviathan. He swung his head to the side to get his bearings. All he could see was an empty parking lot before they pulled a blindfold over his eyes. The trunk lid slammed shut and the engine roared to life.
Greg was unconscious for the ride in, but he had a feeling it was no Sunday drive. He pulled the blindfold off as the driver took the first corner at full speed. He got lucky that his hands were free this time, it meant he could brace himself. Greg kicked the inside of the trunk for effect. He was pretty sure that the foursome in the car would be disappointed if they didn’t think they were banging him up on the road home—if that’s where they were going.
They continued careening between the empty factories for longer than it should have taken to reach the freeway ramp. Probably having too much fun playing their vehicular cat and mouse game with Greg, which was fine by him. He knew that every minute they spent in town was another chance for VHPD to pull the car over and save him. He waited for the wail of a siren. The only sound was the guttural rev and grind of the engine.
Their driving was getting more erratic. Greg imagined a bottle being passed around inside the cab. It was hard for him to hear them talking over the constant rumbling in the trunk, but he could make out a loud laughter every couple of blocks. His arms and legs were starting to cramp from trying to hold his body in place through all the swerving.
And then the car took a wide, squealing turn that caused the tires to stutter across the pavement. Greg was momentarily weightless, like a diver on his way back to the surface. He felt the back of the car pull into a slide that sent them spinning. It seemed to last forever. The ride came to an abrupt stop when the driver’s side slammed into a brick wall.
The spinning had slowed the car down, but the impact sent him pinballing around the inside of the trunk. The passenger side wheels lifted up into the air simultaneously and then came down to the curb with a creaking crash. A hissing sound was coming from the front of the car and filled the silence. He heard the four men inside the Impala pile out the passenger side doors. Their footsteps echoed off the walls as they took off running down the empty midnight streets of Virgil Heights.
The sound of approaching sirens brought a smile to Greg’s face, even if they were a little behind schedule. He lay there in the darkness praying that they found him before the car went up in flames. The police cruiser had barely come to a stop before he started yelling and kicking.
“Officer down inside of the trunk!”
There was no immediate response. He knew that the officers standing outside of the car had their guns drawn and were taking stock of the situation.
“Officer down!”
“You. In the car. This is Officer Coleridge with the Virgil Heights Police Department. Identify yourself.”
“Goddammit, Mark. It’s Greg Salem. Open the fucking lid before I suffocate!”
›
The Police Chief was already waiting at the station when they pulled up. He greeted Greg at the door wearing sweat pants and a windbreaker. It looked like he had been woken from a very deep sleep.
“Jesus. You’re a mess. Do we need to get you to a hospital?”
“Just get me some ice and a couple dozen Ibuprofen.”
He threw his arm around the nearest officer’
s neck and they walked a few yards into the tiny station. Greg took a seat on a small sofa in the Police Chief’s office. It was painful to lower himself into a reclining position, but he couldn’t bear the thought of staying upright. The second officer came in a few minutes later and helped Greg choke down a couple of pills with a glass of tap water. Greg brought his head back down on the arm of the sofa. The Police Chief dropped a sandwich bag full of ice on his forehead once he was settled.
“You mind telling me how you ended up in the trunk of a totaled car?”
“It’s a long, very painful story.”
“I’m guessing it had something to do with that friend of yours who got gunned down last week. I’m really sorry about that. Just doesn’t seem fair.”
“It hasn’t really sunk in yet, but that’s not how I ended up here. I got shanghaied from my apartment in South Bay by a bunch of gangsters.”
“From Virgil Heights? How did they find you?”
“Not sure. I should have known something was up when that green Impala trailed me home from here last week.”
“God damn it. When were you planning to tell me about that?”
Greg didn’t have a good answer so he didn’t say anything.
“Fine, let’s concentrate on tonight. Was one of them a Filipino with a stoner mustache?”
“Yep. His name is Manny.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“No, but he used to hang around here sometimes. He would have been ten or eleven years old back then. Do you remember him?”
“Hell no. But my memory’s for shit these days.”
“It seems like he’s a little pissed off that I shot his kid brother.”
“I was really hoping they wouldn’t find you. There’s no way of knowing what he’ll do if his brother gets locked up.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, he doesn’t seem all that worried about the prison time. He was a lot more wound up about the gun.”
“Makes sense. They’re going to hold the preliminary hearing Tuesday morning.”
“When were you planning to let me know?”
“Tomorrow. If we can’t prove he was armed, ‘assault with a deadly weapon’ goes right out the window. He’ll do two years max if he pleads on the lesser felonies.”
“He had a gun, Chief.”
“Only if we can find it. We both know that’s pretty unlikely at this point.”
“I wouldn’t have shot him if he wasn’t armed.”
“Do you want to stay here at the station tonight? We’ve got a few empty cells.”
“Thanks, but I really want to go home and sleep in my bed. Can one of your new guys give me a lift?”
Greg slept the entire ride home. The VHPD cruiser dropped him off outside of his apartment shortly before dawn. The officer offered to help Greg get inside, but he declined.
“Thanks for the ride. I think I’ve got it from here.”
He climbed out and strained to straighten out his back. The officer gave him a concerned look as he pushed the car door shut and turned to walk through the back gate. His apartment was unlocked and the lights were still on when he got inside. He gulped four more Ibuprofen down and drank a glass of water before easing himself onto the bed. The cold sheets felt good against his sore muscles and bruised bones. Sleep came easy despite the pain.
Chapter Sixteen
Greg’s sheets were soaked through with sweat and every joint in his body felt locked up. It took him the better part of thirty minutes to make his way to the bathroom. His body felt racked and his stomach was growling. He only had enough energy to make a bowl of instant oatmeal that he devoured.
The food hit his shrunken stomach like a brick that left him feeling nauseous. Another handful of Ibuprofen seemed like the only solution to his mounting problems. He started a pot of coffee and nursed a glass of orange juice while it brewed. The mixture of medicine and sugar, combined with the smell of coffee, gave him the energy he needed to find his phone.
There were too many text messages to count, most of them from Junior. She had also left a few phone messages, along with his Police Chief and a couple of Virgil Heights finest. He deleted almost all of them without reading or listening to them. There was also a message from Ricky’s mom. He decided to save that one until he was in a better frame of mind. The last one was from Eddie earlier that morning.
“Mikey called and wants to meet this afternoon around four thirty. I would really appreciate it if you could join us. Give me a call when you get this message.”
The thought of seeing Mikey on a good day was almost too much to handle. In his current condition it seemed almost unimaginable. But Greg knew he had to go to the meeting, even if Eddie wouldn’t take his advice in the long run.
He tapped the Call Back button and told Eddie he would meet him around four o’clock. Mikey’s office was only a few blocks away from the L Bar. He guessed he could get some more information out of Eddie on the walk over.
His next call was to Junior. He hoped he might get away with leaving a message since she was probably still at work. She picked up on the first ring.
“Where the hell have you been?”
“In bed.”
“Hm. Anybody I know?”
“Just me, myself and I. How’s it going?”
“Well, the funeral’s tomorrow. Did Ricky’s mom call you? She wants you to say a few words. I mean, if you’re up for it.”
“Jesus, I didn’t even think about that.”
“What, the funeral?”
“No. That people might expect me to get up and say something.”
“Well, you were—I mean, you are his best friend. But I’m sure everybody would understand if it was too much for you to handle right now. You kinda have a lot going on.”
“Would you consider standing up there with me?” The words were as much of a surprise to him as they were to her. “I mean, in case it’s too hard.”
Her response sounded a little too quick to both of them.
“I don’t think so. I mean, I’ll have Chris with me so I should probably stay nearby. He’s never been to a funeral before, you know?”
“I get it. I’ll figure something out. There are a ton of good memories to share.”
He heard her catch her breath on the other end of the line. It was probably best to get off the phone before they both broke down. There would be plenty of time to cry tomorrow.
“I should probably jump. I’ve got a meeting in a couple of hours.”
“What’s the meeting about?”
Greg knew she was making small talk, but decided to dodge the question anyway.
“I’ll try to call you later on if that’s cool.”
“I hope you do.”
He hung up and swiped the screen to reveal his unheard messages. He let his thumb hover over the message from Ricky’s mom, but couldn’t get himself to hit play. It was going to take a little soul searching to find the right words about his best friend. The shower seemed like the best place to start collecting his thoughts.
The cracked windshield on the El Camino seemed brand new every time Greg saw it. He had planned to squeeze in a visit to the motel to grab Barrett’s file folder on the way to Eddie’s, but getting dressed turned out to be a real chore. It took a full fifteen minutes just to get an accurate inventory of all the scrapes, cuts and bruises that now covered his entire body.
Traffic was mercifully light so he still managed to arrive at the L Bar a few minutes early. He could see Eddie sitting on a stool and chatting with a couple of the regulars. Part of him expected to see Ricky come bounding out of the front door toward him. He closed his eyes tight and tried to indulge in the memory, but it was already slipping away. Just like it had with his brother. Like he hoped it eventually would with the kid in the blue hat.
He stepped inside and made
his way over to the bar.
“Greg, I’m glad you made it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Let me grab my jacket out of the back. You know Roger and Bill, right?”
The three of them shook hands while Eddie scuttled off. Roger went back to sipping his beer. Bill kept his eyes on Greg.
“Sorry about your friend. It’s a real shame to lose somebody so young.”
“Thanks. I think I’ll go see what’s taking Eddie so long.”
Greg walked the length of the bar, back to where the room took a hard right. The door to the storeroom was right in front of him and he could see the entire stage. It was the last place that Ricky would ever play guitar. Right there, at the back of Eddie’s, where both of them had played so many times over the years. He couldn’t imagine ever playing on that stage again.
Eddie came out of the back and stood beside Greg for a moment.
“Are you sure you’re up for this? I know that you and Mikey have a colorful history.”
“Don’t worry about me, Eddie. You were his father-in-law. If you can see past his relationship with Junior, then I can see past everything else.”
They both turned and headed out the side door. Neither of them spoke again until they were half way to Mikey’s sleek office building along the backside of the reservoir.
“Are you seriously considering selling?”
“I’m not getting any younger. Mikey might be an asshole, but he’s also the highest bidder.”
“There just aren’t many places like the L Bar left in The Bay Cities. It’s an institution.”
“It’s nice to know that somebody else cares about it as much as I do.”
Eddie slowed down and gave Greg a searching look.
“Eddie, please. If you have something to say, just spit it out.”
“You know you’re like a son to me, right?” Greg nodded, keeping his mouth shut tight. “Would you ever consider taking over the bar? You know, maybe running it with Junior after I’m gone.”
They came up to the front doors of the gleaming glass office building just as Eddie finished asking the question. There was a soft buzzing sound followed by a click as they were granted access to the lobby. Greg gave Eddie a surprised look that was met with a sheepish smile.