TKO ddm-2

by Tom Schreck

  Howard smiled for the first time ever in my presence.

  “It’s nice to know I still got it,” he said.

  The three of us laughed so hard it hurt.

  43

  It wasn’t long after the fireworks that the police came… and the FBI… and the U.S. Marshals. Then, within seconds, it was the news and the media with satellite trucks and reporters and camera people. There was crime-scene tape, there were detectives with notepads, there were crime-scene investigators-you name it. If they had a badge, a pen, or a camera, they were there. Thank God, Kelley pulled up in his cruiser.

  They got Mitchell off the tree Billy taped him to and took him away in a paddy wagon, and they interviewed the three of us, first separately and then together. We talked to federal guys, state guys, and the local guys. Kelley stayed with us during each of the interviews and helped with the questions. For a short period of time, they had Howard in cuffs and were reading him his rights, but after a lot of explaining and, I mean a lot of explaining, they uncuffed him and told him to stay in town and check in with parole later that day.

  The blown-apart laboratory, the weapons, the dead pit bull, Mitchell’s arrest, and the chemical and blood tracings left in Abadon’s vehicles stacked the evidence, and it was pretty clear we were the heroes not the villains. When there was a break in all the interviewing and interrogating, there was a moment when it was just Kelley and the three of us.

  “Fellas, you mind if I have a word alone with Duff?” Kelley said.

  We walked about fifteen feet away and out of earshot, at least temporarily, from everyone else.

  “You’re fuckin’ nuts, you know that?” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “This shit’s going to hit you hard eventually, you know.”

  “Yeah, I realize that.”

  “You going to be all right?”

  “Nothing that a Schlitz and the love of a fine basset hound won’t cure.”

  Kelley just shook his head and walked back to his cruiser.

  Late that afternoon they let us go. I had told everything I knew and how if it wasn’t for Billy Cramer and Howard Rheinhart, I’d be dead. Billy’s mom came and got him at the police station. She was crying and all disheveled and sick with worry. She looked at me, taking me for the lunatic that I am, and went to hurry Billy away. I broke away from whatever cop was processing my paperwork at that moment and ran to catch up with them.

  “Whoa, whoa… just a second, Mrs. Cramer,” I said.

  “Please, let us go home,” she said.

  “Just a second.” I stopped and looked Billy right in the eye. “Kid, you saved my life,” I extended my hand and he shook it. It wasn’t enough though, and I pulled him to me and hugged him.

  “It was a pleasure, sir,” Billy said.

  “Oh God, we have to go-,” Billy’s mom said, and she ran down the corridor with him.

  That left me and Howard and Al, and we left together with Kelley as an escort. The reporters were waiting for us outside and they crowded us and shouted questions, but we forced past them and got in Kelley’s cruiser and headed home. The three of us were in the back seat with Al sitting on my lap, and I believe the complete exhaustion hit us. We were silent for most of the ride to Howard’s halfway house and Kelley pulled into his driveway. Howard had his hand on the door to get out, but he stopped and put his head down.

  “Duff,” he said. “Why?”

  “Why what?” I said.

  “Why did you come for me? Even after Abadon made me confess, you still kept after me. With my history, why would you do that?”

  “I guess everyone deserves a second chance, Howard.”

  Howard nodded, though I’m not sure he believed me. He got out and headed toward his front door. Kelley threw it in reverse and started to back down the driveway when I asked him to stop. I lowered the window.

  “Hey, Howard,” I said, and he turned.

  “You saved my life, you know,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said and then headed inside.

  Kelley dropped Al and me off, and I grabbed a beer and filled Al’s dish. The beer went down easy, as did the next four or five and maybe more. I’m not sure because I went to sleep and slept hard for I don’t know how long.

  The deadness of the sleep was overtaken by a vivid image of a huge Abadon head with rivers of blood pouring out of every hole in his head and all over me. I awoke and I felt cold, and when my head cleared I noticed I was trembling all over. The last mess I stuck my head into gave me nightmares for a long time. Here we go again, I thought to myself.

  The idea of sleep didn’t much appeal to me, though it didn’t seem to lose its appeal at all with Al. He was on his back with all four legs pointing straight up and his head cocked to one side, both ears acting as an eye mask. Pain in the ass that he was, I couldn’t imagine a better friend.

  I made coffee and flipped on the TV, but stayed far away from any channel that could have possibly reported any news. I didn’t read the paper but I sat down to watch a Classic SportsCentury feature on Greg Louganis. I was exhausted and found myself unable to think of anything.

  An hour or so later Al stirred, shook the drool out of his mouth and onto my bedspread, and joined me on the couch. We sat for a while but I was really struggling with just sitting, so I threw Al in the car and headed for the park. It made sense to give Al a chance to unwind and for both of us to head someplace outside of the walls of the Blue.

  We took a leisurely stroll through the park, and I noticed that the cuts and scratches all over my body stung as my body moved. We came up on the dog park and I wanted to sit and stop the stinging. The snooty brunette and her Corgi were there though at first I didn’t see them because she was on her back on her yoga mat with headphones. The Corgi was sitting alone in the fenced-in dog run.

  Al took notice and started to pull hard on the leash. I struggled to keep him under control because I didn’t really want to take shit from the blue-blooded, uppity yogi. Al looked up at me and it dawned on me that with what I’d been through and what Al had been through, who was I to worry about a snooty chick, especially one with headphones on with her eyes closed.

  I put my hand over my lips to shush Al and it worked. It never had before, but to Al the stakes were probably never like this before either. I lifted Al, which made my whole body feel like it was ripping and plopped him over the side of the fence. I avoided the gate because it was too close to my meditating friend to chance it.

  Al wasted no time and headed right over to his own cute brunette. He sniffed for a while and in turn let himself be sniffed. Then, without even a Barry White soundtrack to set the mood, Al let loose with the Allah-King love-tron.

  I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen a basset hound make love to a Corgi, but if you haven’t, don’t rush to. Al was using muscles I’ve never seen him use before, and I swear his brown eyes rolled back just before he closed them for his final drives. Apparently, Al had it going on because Ms. Corgi started to bark in what I could only imagine was some sort of canine bliss. Good for Ms. Corgi, not good for her yogasizing mother and unfortunate for me.

  “Oh my God, Matisse!” she screamed. “What has he done to you?”

  Al, meanwhile, kind of slumped down in the middle of the park and looked at me like he wanted a Kool Menthol. Matisse ran toward her traumatized mother with what I thought was an extra little spring in her short step.

  “You pig, you, you, you… keep that thing away from my Matisse!” she continued to yell, her face flushed and her hair coming out of place. I wondered what happened to her meditative state.

  “C’mere, Al,” I said, and Al slowly rose and stretched and then waddled to the fence where I lifted him over and put him back on his leash. I swear he looked up and winked at me. I decided not to try to say anything.

  We walked back to the Eldorado, and I noticed the sun was starting to set and thought that it might be a good time to head to AJ’s. Who was I kidding
? It was almost always a good time to go to AJ’s.

  I wasn’t sure if the Foursome had gotten wind of the news. Coverage was all over the place, but you never could tell what was hitting the brain trust’s radar. My questions were answered the second I walked through the door.

  “There he is, our favorite Mick/Polack superhero!” Jerry Number One said before I got a foot in the joint. The four of them gave me a standing ovation.

  “Don’t forget his kemosabe, Al, the frog dog,” Rocco said.

  “Actually, that would be his Tonto,” Jerry Number Two said.

  “Tonto? I know Al’s short, but I don’t think he looks like one of those toy trucks,” TC said.

  “No, no, no. Tonto was Dorothy’s little dog in The Wizard of Oz,” Rocco said.

  “He wasn’t a basket hound,” TC said.

  “That’s bastard hound. Remember, because of the drool? They swim underwater to find explosives,” Jerry Number One said.

  “No, they don’t. They’re French, not underwater swimmers,” Jerry Number Two said.

  “What do you got against the French and what makes you think the French can’t swim?” TC asked.

  “I got plenty against the French,” Rocco said.

  “Like what?” Jerry Number Two said.

  “First of all, making their bastard hounds swim underwater,” Rocco said.

  “Tonto wasn’t French, he was Indian,” Jerry Number One said.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Rocco said.

  I decided to break in.

  “Thanks fellas. AJ, set everybody up with a Jameson and get a cheeseburger going for Al. It’s good to be here-shit, it’s good to be anywhere,” I said.

  Kelley had his Coors Light in front of him and he took a sip after we all threw back the Jameson.

  “How you feeling?” Kelley asked.

  “Like I’m on Mars,” I said.

  “Yeah, I think I know what you mean.”

  “What happened to Mullings-what was that shit all about?”

  “Turns out he was just overanxious to get Howard and was trying to break the case on his own. He was hiding evidence and investigating on his own free time.”

  “Is he in big trouble?”

  “Probably not a good career move-there will be hearings and whatnot.” We both paused to sip beer.

  “Hey, here’s some news. Al got laid this afternoon.”

  “That makes one of us.”

  “Yeah, the guy interrupts me every time I get close and yet I turn him loose on some hot Corgi in the park.”

  “Uh, Duff? Hot Corgi? I’m starting to worry about you,” Kelley said, shaking his head and taking a long chug of beer.

  “Starting?” I said.

  “Yeah, who am I kidding?”

  “Hey Duff, what was the story on the karate kid?”

  “He was the kid whose mother’s boyfriend was smacking them around. He’s a goofy kid who I think took on all the karate shit as a persona to make up for the lack of a dad and a real sense of who he is,” I said.

  Kelley shook his head.

  “Now you’re getting deep on me,” he said.

  “Maybe, but you know what I mean. He’s sixteen and a goofy, pizza-faced kid who gets picked on all the time. So he goes into this kind of fantasyland of karate and works hard at it. In his own way, he’s a courageous and tough son of a bitch,” I said.

  “I think I got you. The kid becomes a karate guy as a protection and to find some structure in his life. It’s kind of good but kind of sad at the same time-why should a kid like that have to try so hard?” Kelley said.

  “Hey, maybe there’s a future in social work for you after all.”

  “Yeah, not in this lifetime. That kid saved your ass, though.”

  “No doubt. I wish I could pay him back.” I sat and looked at my Schlitz, as the Yanks’ game went on in the background. If it wasn’t for Billy, I’d be dead. Without a doubt, the kid was a hero’s hero and it was important that he feel that somehow.

  Then it came to me.

  “Kell, I need a favor,” I said.

  “What else is new?” he said.

  “Go get Billy and bring him here in about an hour.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Trust me on this, will you?”

  “Geez, you’re nuts,” Kelley said and then finished his beer before getting up to go get Billy.

  44

  I called Dr. Pacquoa and told him what I was thinking. He said he would round up Javier Sanchez for help. Their participation was a must because with the way Billy perceived the world, appearance was going to be important. I filled Rocco in and he was psyched to be part of it-after all he did some hand-to-hand shit in Okinawa when he was in the service and he could bullshit with the rest of them. Most importantly, I went back to the Moody Blue because I had something to find.

  The Moody Blue doesn’t come complete with walk-in closets, so when you go to look in your storage, there’s really only a couple of places that you have to look. In the living room that was built as an addition, there’s a small closet and there’s a few boxes where I kept various things in absolutely no order at all. Some things like my first set of gloves really meant something, but I also had an eighth-grade report card that I held on to for no other reason than the fact that I held on to it for years.

  It took a while but I found what I was looking for. It was next to an empty Schlitz Tall Boy that I kept from the night in high school I went bush drinking with Delores Boyajin and, well, special things happened that night. I threw Al back in the car and raced back to AJ’s.

  Billy and Kelley weren’t back but Dr. Pacquoa and Sanchez were already there and they were standing mesmerized by the Foursome, who were kicking around an idea about what cloning would do to the pet industry. I peeled Rocco away from a point he was making about Pablo’s dog and how he died from eating that annoying little bell that Pablo kept ringing in his ear. I briefed Rocco, Sanchez, and Pacquoa and asked AJ for the key to the basement, which he gave me after rolling his eyes about my plan.

  AJ’s cellar smelled like eighty-five years of spilt beer. There was a bare lightbulb hanging off a cord and I lined up a few cases of beer for the guys to sit on. I went over everyone’s lines again and they all seemed to be onboard and actually kind of happy about the plan.

  I had run through everything a second time and it wasn’t a half a minute after I finished that I heard the basement door creak open. I nodded everyone into place as Billy came down the stairs with the same look on his face that he would’ve had if he had landed on Mars. Kelley walked behind him, rolling his eyes.

  “Sir, wha-,” Billy said, his eyes checking out his company.

  “Silence!” I led Billy to a spot directly under the lightbulb. “Come to attention!” Billy snapped into a formal attention stance and he look terrified.

  The four guys followed their cue and stood in formal karate attention.

  Sanchez called out his lines. “Student! Attention! Bow!”

  Billy did as he was told and the group, with their best hard-ass faces, returned his bow.

  “Mr. Dombrowski.” Sanchez nodded. That was my cue and I couldn’t remember a more important speech.

  “Mr. Cramer, as your instructor I have given you very little information about my karate heritage. I am from an eclectic training background, but more importantly from an organization that keeps itself out of the public eye. You are here today because of a special caucus I have called on your behalf,” I said.

  I wasn’t sure if “caucus” was the right word, but it sounded cooler than “meeting.”

  “Caucus, sir?” Billy said.

  “Silence!” Sanchez barked. He was so good it was scary.

  I continued.

  “The IBOSK, the International Brotherhood of Silent Karateka, is headed by Tenth-Degree Grand Master Javier Sanchez.” I motioned toward Sanchez.

  Billy’s eyes were saucers and he swallowed hard.

  “Its office
rs include Dr. Manny Pacquoa, fifth degree, Mr. Kelley, fourth degree, and Rocco Manuccucci, third degree.”

  Billy was trembling.

  “Unlike other karate organizations, the IBOSK sees training as a component of life and life as a component of training. One cannot be separated from another, yet, real life is where a man’s real dojo reigns,” I said.

  This shit was coming off better than I expected.

  Dr. Pacquoa took over.

  “Mr. Cramer, I was informed by Mr. Dombrowski about your actions in the last few days and your dedication to training. I brought this to Grand Master Sanchez’s attention.” Pacquoa was flawless.

  “You would be an asset to our organization,” Rocco said, employing his best badass face.

  “Mr. Dombrowski.” Sanchez nodded in my direction.

  “Mr. Cramer, if you choose to be recognized by the IBOSK, you must keep your training secret. You must not appear as a karateka to the outside world, except in the way you carry yourself. In that way you must be a karateka at all times, understand?” I said.

  “I think so, sir.” Billy looked as confused as Mike Tyson at a spelling bee.

  “In that case, by virtue of your intense commitment to training but to a greater degree because of your character, selflessness, and bravery to help your fellow man…” I paused for dramatic effect while I fished it out of my pocket.

  “The IBOSK confers upon you the rank of first-degree black belt,” I said, and I held the black belt I had gotten as a teenager.

  I didn’t think it was possible for Billy’s eyes to get wider but they did. He was visibly shaking and his eyes welled up. He wasn’t the only one with overactive tear ducts at the moment.

  I approached Billy and tied the belt around his waist while tears streaked both our cheeks.

  “Mr. Cramer, sir. Welcome to the rank of black belt!” I said then I turned to the group and yelled the command “Attention! Bow!”

  “WASABIIIII!!!!!” the group yelled out in unison as they bowed to the IBOSK’s newest black belt.

  Billy came to attention and bowed with as much pride as I’d ever seen on a human being’s face.