Small Crimes

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Small Crimes Page 9

by Dave Zeltserman


  ‘Bad Moon Rising’ ended and the redhead walked around the stage to let guys slip dollar bills in her G-string. She had nice green eyes and a sweet smile. She also didn’t look much older than eighteen. Even with her mostly naked, I couldn’t help thinking she seemed more like a high school cheerleader than a stripper. The DJ announced, ‘Susie Q for our own little Susie,’ and the Creedence song by the same name started. The redhead, Susie, slipped off her G-string and started moving rhythmically to the music. I noticed a ratty-looking guy with a thick mustache staring at her intently. He had kind of a slight to medium build, but was wearing a muscle shirt and was trying to puff himself out. Every time someone would slip a dollar bill under her garter, the muscles along his jaw would bulge. One guy let his hand linger a little too long on her thigh and Muscle-shirt started to push himself out of his chair, his body tense and his eyes filled with violence. The hand was removed, and Muscle-shirt, with what looked like a great deal of effort, forced himself back down, his eyes still seething.

  When the song was over, the redhead collected the dollar bills that had been thrown onstage and then flashed a sweet smile before walking off. As soon as she was gone, Muscle-shirt left his seat and got in the face of the guy who had let his hand linger. This guy looked like a truck driver. A big burly fellow with thick ham-hock hands. At first it looked like they were going to get into it, but the big burly guy lost his nerve. Muscle-shirt had his finger in the guy’s face and you could see the life just go right out of his eyes. All he wanted was to get the hell out of there. Muscle-shirt jabbed him hard in the chest with his forefinger and then walked back to his seat, more puffed up than before.

  I had finished my ale and made my way back to the bar to buy another one, but Earl wouldn’t take my money.

  ‘Hey, man,’ he said as he opened up another bottle for me, ‘tonight it’s on the house. Consider it a welcome-home party.’

  ‘About time I had one,’ I said. I accepted the ale from him and pointed a thumb at Muscle-shirt. ‘What’s the story there? How come you let him get away with that type of behavior?’

  Earl showed an uneasy smile. ‘Well, you know how it is. I like having Susie dance here. She’s a sweet kid and she’s nice to look at, you know? Kind of makes me feel good to have her around. If I throw the Rooster out, I think I’d lose her.’

  ‘The Rooster, huh? That’s a great name for him.’

  ‘Yeah, it fits, don’t it?’ Earl made a face as if he were suffering a bad case of gas. ‘I probably should have a talk with him.’

  I went back to my table and watched as Earl approached Muscle-shirt. He put a hand on the guy’s shoulder and moved his face so it was inches from Muscle-shirt’s ear. I could tell he didn’t like what he was being told. He tried to argue, but the more he did, the more pressure Earl applied to his shoulder. He seemed to be struggling to keep himself sitting straight in his chair. After a short while, Muscle-shirt shut his mouth and nodded, the muscles along his jaw bulging heavily. Earl forced a handshake out of him and then went back to the bar, giving me a wink as he went by.

  The next dancer was introduced as Toni. My jaw dropped when I saw her. She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall and was at most ninety pounds, but she was a knockout. Maybe the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen. Long curly black hair, big brown eyes, and lips that could stop your heart. She wasn’t exposing anything for her first song, wearing a belly shirt, hot pants and high heels. The Stones’ ‘Angie’ blasted out from the loudspeakers and as she started dancing she caught my eye and gave me a smile. Her smile did something to me. It made me feel a little funny inside. I know it sounds ridiculous, reacting that way because a stripper deemed me worthy of a smile, but that was the effect she had.

  I heard someone call my name. A heavyset man in his late forties had sat down next to me and was offering me his hand. He looked somewhat familiar but I couldn’t place him.

  ‘Joe?’ he asked again. ‘Joe Denton?’

  I shook hands with him, puzzled, trying to figure out why his small bloodshot eyes and doughy features seemed familiar.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Do I know you?’

  ‘We know each other. I’m a few years older than you, but I grew up in Bradley. You were closer in age to my brother, Billy.’

  I could see the resemblance then. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘You’re Scott Ferguson.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You joined the army or something, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yep. I joined up when I was eighteen. I didn’t move back here until two years after my brother’s death.’

  We both sat quietly for a moment and nursed our beers. It was as if everything around me at that point were a million miles away. The music, the heart-stopping little dynamo on-stage, the club, everything.

  ‘That’s a shame about what happened to your brother,’ I said.

  He nodded in agreement. ‘You investigated Billy’s murder, didn’t you?’

  ‘That’s right, I did. That was a while ago, though.’

  He sat silently for a long moment, brooding. Finally, he asked, ‘It was brutal, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I’m sorry, yes, it was.’

  ‘And you never had any suspects?’

  ‘There was no physical evidence and no witnesses. No, we never had any suspects. You should probably talk with the Bradley police. I’m sure your brother’s case is still open. Maybe they’ve found something over the years.’

  ‘I’ve talked with everyone involved. You’re the only person I haven’t talked to yet.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know anything that could help you.’

  He was staring straight at me. I could feel his small bloodshot eyes boring into me.

  ‘Billy had taken thirty thousand dollars out of an IRA account the day he was murdered,’ he stated.

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yeah, I didn’t know it at the time I was investigating your brother’s murder, but the DA, Phil Coakley, mentioned it to me recently.’

  ‘How come none of you cops bothered to check into something like that?’ he asked. ‘Nobody knew about Billy’s IRA until I settled his estate two years after his murder. How come?’

  ‘Again, I’m sorry. It was sloppy police work on our part. We should have found that out.’

  ‘When did the DA mention my brother’s IRA to you?’

  ‘Yesterday.’

  ‘Why’d he do that? You’re not a cop anymore.’

  ‘I guess he wanted to know if I had any ideas about it.’

  ‘Do you?’

  I turned to him. ‘Scott,’ I said, ‘that was a long time ago. At least eight or nine years. I really haven’t thought much about it. I’m sorry for your loss, but I’ve had problems of my own.’

  ‘If I’m bothering you I’ll leave,’ he said.

  I didn’t say anything.

  ‘So I’m bothering you?’ he asked, his expression growing more sullen.

  ‘You’re not bothering me. I wish I could help. I just don’t know anything.’

  He nursed his beer for a moment, his small eyes staring off into the distance. ‘Do you have any idea why Billy took out thirty thousand dollars?’ he asked.

  ‘Sorry, nothing more that what the DA probably already told you.’

  ‘You know, you’ve been apologizing a lot to me.’

  I turned and stared at him. He tried to meet my stare, but after a while he lowered his eyes. ‘I was trying to be understanding,’ I said. ‘I know it’s got to be tough having your brother murdered like that. And Scott, it was worse than brutal. I don’t think I ever saw anyone beaten that badly. But to be honest, even though Billy was in my high school class, I never really knew him well. He was just some fat slob druggie that I’d see around town. What Phil told me was he owed thirty thousand in gambling debts.’

  ‘The DA told me he was gambling with a local bookie named Vassey.’

  I let out a short laugh. ‘Manny is, or at l
east was, a lot more than just a bookie. Yeah, if Billy owed him and was stubborn about paying, Manny would’ve sent muscle to collect. But I don’t think he’d go as far as to kill any of his customers. Not out of any moral sense. Just because Manny was too smart a businessman for that.’

  ‘Maybe Billy was going to pay Vassey. Maybe someone else found out he had the money.’

  He was looking at me as if I were that someone. After all, I had no problem stabbing a DA thirteen times in the face, so why in the world would I have a problem beating a man to death for thirty grand? It shook me up a little inside to realize how easy a sell it was. Somehow I kept myself under control and pretended to give the matter some thought.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I said after an appropriate amount of time. ‘Manny always kept his business pretty tight. I don’t think anyone would have known about it from him. If your brother talked about it, maybe. But I remember interviewing his friends. They were a bunch of lowlife hicks and druggies, but none of them struck me as having the balls to do something like this.’

  ‘Someone must have known about Billy having that money,’ he insisted, his tone accusatory. Again, I pretended to ignore it.

  ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘This was eight or nine years ago. Back then Manny had started sending his son, Manny Jr, on collections. I think he was trying to break Junior into the business. The thing is, though, Junior’s a psycho. He likes to injure people. He gets off on it. I remember one guy who stumbled into the emergency room after his hand had been chewed up by a garbage disposal. The poor sonofabitch was in shock. Somehow he had driven himself to the hospital, and, if you can believe it, using a stick shift.’

  I paused for a moment. It was a true story, and thinking about it made me a little queasy. I tried to remember his name and finally came up with it. ‘John Shortsleave,’ I said. ‘That was the poor sonofabitch. He used to live near Willows Pond, but he packed up and moved after this happened. I knew Junior was involved, but I couldn’t get Shortsleave to talk. He was too scared. Even though Junior had ground up his hand with a garbage disposal, Shortsleave wouldn’t talk. There were others also. After a while Manny got smart and stopped sending his son out on jobs, but I think that was some time after your brother was murdered. Maybe Junior was sent to collect from your brother. If it was Junior, we never would’ve gotten him.’

  All the conviction and certainty drained from Ferguson’s eyes. His pale doughy face was now clouded by doubt. I guess my story rang true to him. And if Junior had been sent to collect from Billy Ferguson it well could have turned out the way it did.

  ‘You think Vassey’s son could’ve killed Billy?’ he asked, his attitude and manner now completely changed, almost subservient.

  ‘It’s possible,’ I said. ‘But as I say, if he did, we never would have been able to prove it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Manny’s just too smart. He would’ve cleaned it up and bought an airtight alibi for his son.’

  Ferguson seemed to shrink inwards as he digested this. Large creases of doubt formed along his forehead.

  ‘So how long were you in the army?’ I asked.

  ‘What? Oh, uh, twenty-two years,’ he answered, distracted.

  ‘Really? I’ll tell you, Scott, that’s something. You must’ve gotten a chance to see quite a bit.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I guess so,’ he muttered, only half hearing me. ‘Where were you stationed?’

  ‘What? Oh, the last five years in Heidelberg.’

  ‘No kidding? You know, I’ve never been more than a few hours from Bradley. I really should go to Europe some time. You know, see the world. Maybe you could let me know places I should visit—’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ he said. ‘Look, I have to go.’ He got to his feet and looked as if he had forgotten where he was. He stared blindly at the entrance before recognizing it. As he walked away I yelled out to him to take care of himself. He half-heartedly put up a hand to wave, but didn’t bother looking back.

  I tried to settle back into my chair, but it took a long time before I could pay attention to what was going on around me. By the time I could, Toni had finished her last set. She had only stripped down to a bikini top and a G-string, but a thick pile of dollar bills had still been thrown onstage and slipped under her garters. Guys had surrounded the stage and were begging her to take something off. She quieted them by flashing her heart-stopping smile. As she collected her money, she glanced in my direction and gave me a look of disappointment.

  I finished my ale and visited Earl to get another one. When I got back Toni was sitting at my table. She was now wearing a football jersey. My guess, she probably had nothing but panties underneath it.

  ‘I’m mad at you,’ she said, playfully, her eyes sparkling.

  If it were anyone else I probably would’ve told them to take a number. Instead, I sat down in the chair next to her and asked why.

  She got up and sat on my knee. The feel of her body was electric.

  ‘Because,’ she said, ‘I danced my heart out and you didn’t even pay attention.’ She leaned over so her mouth was against my ear. ‘Sheriff Dan told me to take good care of you, Joe.’

  ‘You recognize me, huh?’

  ‘You’re quite a celebrity. Your picture in the paper and everything.’ She placed a finger on one of my scratches and traced it lightly. ‘What happened?’ she asked softly. ‘You put your face somewhere it didn’t belong?’

  ‘Yeah, back in Bradley.’

  She laughed at that. ‘You’re a funny guy,’ she said.

  ‘I usually leave them in stitches.’

  She laughed again. ‘That’s not a nice thing to say, is it, Joe?’ Then her mouth up against my ear again, ‘You want to see me privately?’

  I found myself nodding. She got off my knee and took hold of my hand and led me past the stage and to a curtained area in the back. Past the curtains was a long hallway with four small rooms on each side. Kind of like we were in the dressing area of a clothing store. Toni picked one of the rooms, led me in, and closed the door behind us. The room was bigger than a clothing store’s dressing room, but not much. She had me sit on a carpeted bench and then she sat on my thighs, straddling and facing me. Her hands were clasped behind the back of my head and she gave me that heart-stopping smile. I lowered my eyes and focused on the soft curvature of her throat, and as I did, I felt something funny in my own throat. She smelled so fresh and sweet that it made me dizzy.

  ‘Hey, what are you staring at down there?’ she asked, laughing.

  I looked back into her eyes.

  ‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘I’d like you to know that I’m very particular who I come back here with.’

  I started laughing. I couldn’t help myself. ‘You can’t be that particular,’ I said.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Because you’re with me,’ I explained, the laughter dying somewhere deep within me.

  ‘Now stop that!’ She waved a finger in front of my nose, scolding me. I noticed how small her hand was. Two of them would barely make up one of mine.

  She placed her hand along my jaw and caressed it. ‘I asked Earl about you, and he told me you were a great guy. He said you used to be a regular at Kelley’s, that you used to come here almost every night, but you never once stepped back here with any of the girls. Why was that?’

  ‘I was married then.’

  ‘Are you still married?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘See?’ she said. ‘You were being faithful, you weren’t going to betray your wife. Most guys who come here couldn’t care less about that. And I read all about you. What you did was not so nice, but you took responsibility for it. And Joe, most of the guys I know wouldn’t have had the guts to have pled guilty.’

  I didn’t say anything. Her logic was twisted, but I wasn’t going to argue with her. Of course I betrayed Elaine and my daughters. It didn’t matter whether I had sex with any of the girls at Kelley’s, just spending most of my nights at a strip club was be
trayal enough. Even though I never paid much attention to the strippers, I still abandoned my family. I abandoned them so that I could sit and bullshit with Earl and listen to music and snort cocaine and try to hide from them what I had become. And as far as Phil Coakley was concerned, I didn’t have the guts to do anything other than plead guilty. Elaine was right, back then I wouldn’t have been able to sit in a courtroom and listen to the accusations against me. I would have done anything to avoid that.

  Toni reached down and started to unbuckle my belt. I stopped her. She gave me a tender smile. ‘I know, it’s been a long time,’ she said.

  ‘I’m just not ready right now.’

  ‘Would you like some coke?’

  I found myself nodding. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on my cheek. Then she got up and left the room. It had been a long time, but it was more than that. Elaine had been my first and only girlfriend. I dated her through high school and married her right afterwards. She was the only woman I had ever been with. But it was more than that.

  All the hopes I had for turning my life around were turning to dust. I felt like I was balancing on an icy precipice and that any wrong move would send me tumbling off into oblivion. What I was going to have to do in the next few days was bad enough, but at least when it was done I could put it behind me and move on. Now, though, I was back at Kelley’s, and not only that, but in one of their private rooms with a girl half my age and paid to be with me. I was falling back into my old habits. Drifting back into whatever was easy. Worse actually. But I was too paralyzed to move. Toni was too beautiful and I wanted too much what she had to offer. Still, it made me sick inside.

  There was a light knock on the door, and Toni came back into the room and sat on my lap. She had a vial and a coke spoon with her. She opened the vial, filled the coke spoon, and snorted it. I could see the rush hit her, I could see the effect it had on her eyes and mouth. I wanted to bolt, but as I said before, I was paralyzed. When she offered me the spoon I took it. The rush hit me hard. I could feel the cocaine stinging the back of my eyes. I could taste it deep in my throat. We both did several more hits. She put the vial down and started to take off her football jersey. I stopped her.

 

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