Small Crimes

by Dave Zeltserman

  I still had over an hour before I had to meet Craig. I walked over to the Bradley Brewery, got a seat at the bar, and for the hell of it ordered a blueberry wheat ale. As I looked around the place I saw a number of people I knew. Most of them avoided eye contact with me, but there were a few who had been at church when Thayer made his speech on forgiveness, and a couple of them nodded back to me. I guess that was the best I could hope for.

  I liked the ale more than I thought I would and ended up ordering a second one. The hour slipped by quickly and before I knew it I had to head over to the courthouse. Craig was waiting for me in the cubbyhole of an office he had there. He was originally from Queens, New York, and had moved to Bradley about the time I had joined the force. I wouldn’t say we were ever exactly friends, but back then we used to talk a lot, or more precisely he used to talk a lot to me. For the most part it was a running monologue. He used to seek me out so he could tell me how sick he had gotten of New York and how glad he was to be able to have a quieter and more wholesome life in Vermont.

  As I took a chair by his desk, I barely recognized him. He didn’t look like he was enjoying the wholesome life he had hoped for. Craig was only a couple of years older than me, but his tight curly hair that used to be a reddish brown had turned gray and had receded to almost the top of his skull. He had also gotten a lot wider and heavier since I’d last seen him. As he sat behind his desk and frowned at me, he looked like a bitter, flabbier version of Larry Fine from the Three Stooges.

  ‘What the hell happened to your face?’ he demanded.

  ‘You really want me to tell you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You could always ask Dan Pleasant, but if you want I’ll be happy to tell you all—’

  ‘Never mind,’ Craig said, stopping me. I knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t want to deal with this type of problem.

  ‘But Craig, you sent Dan after me, didn’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Didn’t you notify Dan that I missed our meeting the other day?’

  ‘What? I didn’t say anything to him about that.’

  So Dan was either guessing about me missing my parole meeting or he had one of his boys watching the courthouse. Sonofabitch!

  ‘Really? Well, let me tell you what happened—’

  ‘I said never mind.’ There was some panic in his voice. He picked up a folder and flipped through it before putting it down and forcing a stern, almost laughable look onto his face. ‘Now about you missing our meeting—’

  ‘I’m sorry about that, Craig. As I said in the message I left you, I had a job interview. By the way, I didn’t get the job.’

  I could tell he was relieved that I let the other matter drop. He made a loud sucking noise as he breathed in a lungful of air. ‘You have to take this seriously, Joe. If you violate your parole I have to send you back to jail. If I do that you’ll serve out your complete sentence. That could be another seventeen years.’

  I guess I smiled then. It just seemed to be the least of my worries.

  ‘This isn’t funny, Joe. I think maybe the problem is you still think of us as colleagues rather than what we are. We’re no longer colleagues. We’re not even friends. You’re a paroled felon and I’m your parole officer. That’s our relationship now. You need to accept that.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Craig. And I do accept how things stand.’

  ‘I hope for your sake that’s true because you can’t be missing our scheduled meetings, understood?’

  ‘Understood.’

  He picked the folder back up and frowned at it. ‘You moved out of your parents’ house without telling me,’ he complained, his voice bordering on whining.

  ‘They threw me out.’

  ‘This is what I’m talking about,’ Craig said, his cheeks mottling pink and white as he got excited. ‘You knew that you were supposed to stay with your parents until you found a permanent residence, and you knew that I was supposed to be kept informed of any address changes. All you had to do was behave yourself. So what did you do to make your parents throw you out?’

  ‘Someone took a shot at me while I was in their house.’

  His expression showed that he didn’t understand a word I said. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked. He had a small idiotic smile on his face, as if I were telling a joke he didn’t get.

  ‘I was in the house with them. Someone from outside took a shot at me through the window. Whoever it was missed me by inches. If that much.’

  The meaning of what I was saying started to seep in.

  ‘I didn’t hear anything about that,’ he said.

  ‘I’m surprised. I gave a full report to the police. I would’ve thought somebody would’ve told you.’

  ‘Nobody told me anything.’

  He started to fidget with the folders and pens on his desk. This was more than he had bargained for. Most of his parolees were just ordinary screw-ups. Maybe they served time for drug offenses or borderline petty thefts or an occasional assault and battery because they were shitfaced with alcohol at the time. Usually they were just ordinary folk who were going to toe the line once they got out. He could deal with them. I was different. I brought along troubles that he didn’t want to get anywhere near.

  ‘Where are you staying now?’ he asked. He realized he was fidgeting, and stopped himself by clasping his hands in front of him. He still couldn’t look at me.

  ‘Right now I’m staying in motels. I’d like to permanently move someplace else.’

  ‘What?’

  As I looked at him giving his best older bewildered Larry Fine impersonation, I made up my mind about something. Ever since I saw those pictures of my girls I couldn’t help thinking that I could move to Albany. I wouldn’t force myself into their lives, but I’d be there for them. If I survived this mess, that was what I was going to do.

  ‘I’d like to move to Albany,’ I told him. ‘That’s where my daughters are.’

  ‘I don’t know about that—’

  ‘People here are trying to kill me, Craig. If I stay in Bradley, somebody’s going to get hurt.’

  He looked scared now. This was far more than he ever bargained for, especially the idea that he might have to explain to the parole board why one of his clients ended up being killed under his nose. He cleared his throat and asked what I would do in Albany. I told him that I was planning to go to a trade school and become a plumber.

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said.

  ‘The sooner I leave the better. I was hoping to move to Albany by the end of the week.’

  ‘I’ll work on it. I’m not making any promises.’

  He still couldn’t look at me. His eyes were frozen on his clasped hands. As I sat and watched him, he seemed to get more uncomfortable. After a while he was just about squirming in his seat.

  ‘Anything else you need from me?’ I asked.

  He started to shake his head, but stopped himself. ‘You haven’t used cocaine since you’ve been out?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘If I had you take a drug test—’

  ‘Nothing would show up. What’s going on, Craig? Phil come by and try to convince you I’m doing coke?’

  He shook his head, but he was always a lousy poker player.

  ‘Did you hear how Phil jumped me after church? I had eaten some powdered doughnuts and he thought the sugar residue on me was cocaine.’

  ‘I didn’t hear anything about that.’ Again he was lying.

  ‘If you want me to take a drug test, give me a cup.’

  It was my turn to bluff, because I knew the cocaine I ingested Saturday night would show up in a test. He wavered for a moment and then waved away the idea of the test. Again, he wouldn’t want to have to deal with the consequences.

  ‘Forget it. Just get out of here. I’ll work on relocating you to Albany.’

  As I left his office, he sat frozen, still unable to face me.

  It was only four in th
e afternoon. I was beat. Thanks to Dan’s boys my face now felt like raw hamburger, and my nose throbbed as if it had a life of its own. I ran my fingers along its outline. It was more swollen than before and felt as if it were pushed out of place. I walked over to the drugstore and bought some aspirin. I avoided the mirrors inside the store. I didn’t want to see how bad my face looked.

  When I got to my car, I headed off towards Burlington. This time I was careful about being followed. I pulled over several times and used every trick I knew to make sure no one was behind me. I stopped off once to buy some fast food and then found a roadside motel. I made sure to park in the back so my car couldn’t be seen from the road.

  When I got in my room I closed the shades. I didn’t bother with any ice this time. I knew it wouldn’t do any good.

  After I looked up what I had to in the phonebook, I ate the food I bought, took some more aspirin, and set the alarm clock for five in the morning. Then I settled back and watched TV. At some point after all the late-night talk shows had finished I must’ve blacked out.

  Chapter 19

  A police siren blasted in my ear. As I jerked awake, I found myself in freefall. I flung my arms out and grabbed whatever I could for dear life. Slowly, I got my sense of equilibrium back and realized I wasn’t falling. It was pitch black, my heart beating a mile a minute, and all I knew was I was flat on my back. Then I remembered. The police siren droning away was only the alarm clock next to me. It all came back then and I remembered my plan, what I was going to do. I lay in bed long enough for the pounding in my chest to slow down. Then I forced myself out of bed. I took a quick shower, dressed in the same clothes I wore the day before, and left the motel.

  It wasn’t yet five thirty by the time I pulled onto the road. I felt calm as I drove. One way or another it was all going to be over soon. If it worked as I hoped, I’d be heading to Albany by the weekend.

  If it didn’t, well, if it didn’t…

  I forced the thought out of my mind. No matter what, after today they’d at least remember me for something other than what I did to Phil.

  I got to the TV station by six. I decided that for what I was going to be doing it would be better to have a TV cameraman with me.

  When I got to the lobby a security guard stopped me. I gave him my name and told him I wanted the news director. He got on the phone and I sat and waited. I knew they aired an early six thirty news broadcast and someone would be there.

  I didn’t wait long before a young kid came down to the lobby to see me. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty-five. While it was only a few minutes past six in the morning, he already looked disheveled. His shirt sleeves were haphazardly rolled up and his tie was crooked and uneven. He squinted as he moved slowly towards me. At about three feet away he stopped and held out his hand in a quick, jerky motion.

  ‘You’re Joe Denton, right?’ he asked.

  I ignored his hand and nodded. I was tired of the pretense that anyone actually gave a crap. He stood awkwardly for a moment and then pulled his hand back.

  ‘I’m Steven Wolcott,’ he said. ‘I’m an assistant news director here. I have to admit, I was surprised to get your call. What can I do for you?’

  ‘I have a proposition I’d like to make.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Can we go to your office and talk about it?’

  ‘I’m sorry, yes, of course. Let’s go upstairs.’

  I followed him to the elevator. After we got in it, he let out a nervous laugh. He told me there’d been some talk about trying to get me in for an interview.

  ‘You know,’ he added, ‘ask you questions about what’s it like to be out of jail, how people are treating you, whether you have any remorse, stuff like that. You know, give you a chance to get your side of the story out.’

  I didn’t bother answering him. Once he realized I wasn’t going to say anything he gave another short nervous laugh. He tried some more small talk and then stood awkwardly the rest of the way up. When the elevator door opened, he stepped out quickly.

  I followed him through the office to a small conference room. After I took a seat, he asked whether I’d like some coffee. I told him I would and asked if he had anything to eat. When he came back, he brought me a cup of coffee and three doughnuts on a paper plate.

  He took a seat across from me and clasped his hands behind his head, trying to look calm and in charge, but I could see a mix of eagerness and nervousness in his eyes.

  ‘Tell me about your proposition,’ he said.

  I took a long sip of coffee and then asked him if he ever heard of Manny Vassey.

  He thought for a moment and shook his head. ‘Sorry, I’ve never heard of him.’

  ‘You should’ve.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Manny’s been running a number of criminal enterprises out of Bradley County for years. Bookmaking, loan sharking, extortion, drugs, prostitution – you name it, he’s got his hands in it. And though he operates out of Bradley, his businesses go across the state.’

  ‘Really? Jeez, I wonder why I’ve never heard of him before.’

  I shrugged. ‘He’s a smart man. He pays off the right people and keeps things quiet. Manny’s in the hospital now dying of cancer. His psychotic son, Junior, has taken over and is expanding the business. Junior is now manufacturing crystal meth and distributing it through college clubs that he’s forcing owners to sell to him.’

  He blinked several times, making a face. ‘How much of this can you prove?’

  ‘All of it.’

  ‘Do the police know about this?’

  ‘I don’t know about the crystal meth part, but yeah, you got guys on the Bradley police force and in the sheriff’s office who know what Manny’s been up to. Too many of them are on his payroll to do anything about it.’

  I couldn’t read from his expression whether he believed me. He could’ve either been dumbfounded by the whole thing or thought I was nuts, or maybe that I was trying to use them for some private vendetta.

  ‘So what’s your proposition?’ he asked. ‘Do you want to be interviewed on the air about this?’

  I shook my head. ‘I want to take a cameraman and reporter out with me and show them Vassey’s operations in the works. Where his bookmaking and loan sharking operations are headquartered, his crystal meth lab, show his clubs in the act of distributing it, all of it. And I want it shown tonight on your ten o’clock news.’

  ‘Wow. I don’t know if we could do something like that—’

  ‘I want a decision now. Otherwise I’m taking this to one of the Boston stations.’

  He looked rattled. ‘I can’t make this type of decision,’ he said. ‘The news director will have to agree to this.’

  ‘Let’s talk to him, then.’

  ‘Her. Eileen Bracket. And she doesn’t get in until eleven.’

  ‘Call her up.’

  ‘I can’t do that. I’d be waking her up. Eileen doesn’t leave here until midnight every night.’

  I started to stand. He held his hand out to stop me.

  ‘Wait, okay?’ he asked. He bit on his lip as he tried to make a decision. ‘I’ll call her from my office. Just wait here, okay?’

  He left the room in a hurry. While waiting, I ate one of the doughnuts and finished my coffee. Then I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind. The next few hours were going to be critical. I had to break Junior’s operations wide open for what I had in mind to work.

  It didn’t take long for the kid, Wolcott, to come back. As he took a seat across from me, he looked more harried than disheveled. He tossed a pad of paper in front of him and tapped his pen nervously against the edge of the table.

  ‘Eileen’s on her way,’ he said. ‘It’s probably going to take her forty-five minutes to get here. In the meantime, I need some background information.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘How long have you known about this?’

  ‘A long time.’

  ‘Can you please be
more specific.’

  ‘Maybe fifteen years.’

  ‘And you said that other police and sheriff’s officers are being paid to ignore Mr Vassey’s illegal businesses?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Could you give me their names?’

  ‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘You can investigate this yourself later and figure out who’s on Manny’s payroll.’

  ‘You can’t give us any names?’

  ‘No. I’m going to help you expose Junior’s operation, but that’s all. There is police corruption involved, but you’re going to have to discover that yourself.’

  ‘What about the sheriff of Bradley County?’

  I hesitated for a second as I tried to decide whether that was a lucky guess or if it was common knowledge that Dan was crooked. I shook my head. ‘I’m not ratting any police officers. At least not directly.’

  He made a face as if he wanted to argue with me, but it passed. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s move on. Where are you going to be taking our people today?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I need the location of this crystal meth lab, you know, and the other places.’

  ‘If I give you that you won’t need me.’

  ‘That’s not why I’m asking for it. We want to do our own checking on these locations. We’re going to need to do this if we’re going to put a story out by ten tonight.’

  ‘Sorry. You’ll know the locations when I take your people to them.’

  He swallowed back what he wanted to say and then gave kind of a whimsical smile. ‘There’s not much point to this, is there?’ he asked.

  ‘Doesn’t seem to be.’

  ‘Why don’t I leave you alone, then, until Eileen comes.’

  ‘Sure. I could also use another cup of coffee.’

  He was shaking his head when he left the room, but he brought me back a fresh cup. I didn’t wait alone for too long before Eileen Bracket showed up, probably no more than twenty minutes. She was about fifty, thin, with a hawk nose and sharp angles all around. She must’ve rushed over – her hair was still damp from a shower and she had no makeup on, making her thin angular face appear drab and bloodless. As I looked at her, I couldn’t help noticing that she had the palest blue eyes I’d ever seen.