by HD Smith
A moment of doubt ran across Lenny’s face, but the spell was broken by a man’s deep voice from the back of the room. “Good thing we weren’t friends Matty. I’d hate for you to think this wasn’t personal.”
Matt looked back over his shoulder. A few names had come to mind when Sammy announced the Chief was here, but Matt was shocked when it turned out to be a grown-up version of Lester Foster. He hadn’t thought about that kid in years. Not since he’d heard the Foster brothers were sent to military school in Connecticut after they jumped Matt on Fourth of July thirty years ago. Lester was the kid that Matt and Juli had beaten up, and the reason Matt had been given the name “Mad Dog” after Juli hadn’t stopped fighting when the cops showed up and arrested them. It should have been Juli’s name, but considering the way Lester was looking at him now, he was sure the man didn’t give a rat’s ass who’d actually thrown the punches.
Lester was now “the Chief” in Nowhere. Matt guessed that meant things were still running the same—mobsters and dirty cops.
The Chief took off his jacket, hanging it on a hook near the door. “Remember me, Matty?” he asked, as he strolled over to Lenny’s desk, rolling up the sleeves of his button down and stretching the muscles in his neck as if he were loosening himself up for a fight.
Matt stayed quiet. There was nothing he could say to this guy.
Lenny’s voice broke the silence. “J.J., make sure Matty finds the bridge after Foster’s done. I have things to take care of in the city.”
“Sure boss,” J.J. said.
“Where’s my son?” Matt yelled, straining to pull his arms free. “What have you done with him you son of a bitch?” Lenny headed toward the back door as if he planned to ignore Matt. “You coward—you can’t even take care of things yourself. No wonder your father was so disappointed.”
Lenny stopped, his hand on the open door. With a clenched jaw, he said, “Don’t worry, Matty, I’ll treat him like the son I never had. Just like my father treated me.”
“Lenny, don’t do this.”
Lenny laughed.
“If you hurt him, I’ll kill you,” Matt screamed.
Lenny sighed, glancing at Lester and his boys. “Empty threats, Matty. Empty threats.”
~#~
Julian had forced his way into the old hideout, which was still abandoned. He’d made it there just before Lenny left, and Foster started pounding on Matty. Julian wanted to save his old friend from this beating, but he was too outnumbered, and if he went in now, guns blazing, he risked a gun fight with three armed men. A rescue attempt now was almost guaranteed to fail. He also didn’t want a cop’s death on his hands—not without proper planning. He just hoped Foster was going to leave Matty alive for the others to finish off. So he had to wait for Foster to leave.
Matty was unconscious by the time Foster finished. J.J. tried to hand him an envelope, but Foster waved it off.
Julian wasn’t sure when, but he’d be paying Foster back—soon.
Hill’s goons took Matty out to the car and put him in the back seat. They’d just closed the door when Julian walked up, startling them.
“Shit, man,” the one he thought might be J.J. said, “Julian—you scared me. Ronny’s not here.”
“What’s going on?” Julian asked.
“Just business for Hill. Like I said, Ronny’s not here. He’s in Vegas.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not here to see Ronny.”
Both men paused.
The one he was sure was J.J. looked nervous. J.J. grabbed for his gun, but Julian was so fast his gun was out, with the first round squeezed off before J.J.’s hand reached his own pistol. The other tough guy reached for his gun too, but Julian fired off another shot before J.J.’s body had hit the ground. Both men were dead.
Julian glanced around to make sure no one was watching. Luckily witnesses were always scarce in Nowhere. He checked Matty’s pulse, which was strong—good, he was just unconscious—then quickly put the two dead men in the trunk. He searched pockets and fished out the keys to the car, then drove toward the docks.
Chapter 12
1985
Juli was still grounded, Ronny was in jail, and Lenny didn’t want to hang out anymore. Matty was sitting alone outside Demarko’s Pizza. He’d been avoiding Miller’s Pub—so he wouldn’t run into the Russian—and Hill hadn’t given him a job in weeks. He was bored. He’d finished his soda and was about to leave when Reno drove up and handed him a package. At least today he’d have something to do.
On the way back from delivery, Matty saw the Russian coming his way. He was talking with someone Matty didn’t recognize. The unknown guy had shaggy brown hair and looked to be in his early twenties. Matty ducked into the nearest alley and hid behind a dumpster. He hoped the Russian hadn’t seen him. Getting caught out in the open, as if he’d been spying, wasn’t something Matty wanted to explain.
He was listening, waiting for the Russian to pass. He cursed when he realized the two men had stepped into the alley where he hid.
Could things get worse? Matty wondered, trying to remain quiet. He’d never talk his way out of this one if the Russian spotted him, so staying still he waited.
The two men had stopped short of the dumpster, within easy earshot of Matty’s location.
The younger man sounded agitated. “I don’t understand. You’re telling me that Hill has something to do with this mess? That he had something to do with Parrish’s death?”
“Yes,” the Russian said.
Matty almost gasped in shock. The Russian was trying to blame everything on Hill? He clasped his hand over his mouth to remind himself to stay quiet.
The Russian continued, “Mickey, I need you to tell your father that Hill can’t be trusted. Things are really getting bad now. He’s keeping me out of meetings. He’s not sharing information. If he’s doing what I think he’s doing, we could both be out of a job.”
Matty couldn’t believe it. This was the same thing Kalen had told Hill about Quinn.
“I don’t know,” Mickey said, “My father wants me to talk to Hill, to see what he has to say.”
The Russian sighed. “So that’s your final answer?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s too bad kid.”
Bang!
Matty gasped behind his covered hand when the gunshot went off, followed quickly by a thud, which he assumed was a body hitting the ground. Shit, did the Russian just kill someone? He waited a few seconds, staying tucked behind the dumpster, trying to get his breathing under control. He had to be quiet until he heard the Russian leave. What is he waiting for?
“This wasn’t really in Kalen’s plan, kid, but what could I do? You gave me no choice.” The Russian spoke as if Mickey could still hear him.
Matty waited tense moments and only breathed a little easier when he heard the Russian’s footsteps receding. He’d planned to wait another minute, then get the hell out of there, until he heard soft gasps and murmurs, as if someone was trying to speak. Matty looked around the dumpster. Mickey’s arm was moving. He’s not dead!
Matty hurried over. There was blood everywhere. Mickey was alive, but only barely. It looked like he was trying to say something, but then he went still. “Mickey.” Matty shook his shoulder. “Mickey.”
Matty was about to get up when Mickey grabbed him by the arm and pulled him close. There was blood all over Mickey’s hands.
“Kid,” Mickey wheezed, “I need you to take a message to my father.”
“I’m gonna get help.” Matty tried to get up, but Mickey wasn’t letting go.
“There’s no time. I’m not going to make it, so listen to what I’m telling you. I want you to go to Fuller’s place in the city, do you know where that is?” Mickey coughed, his breathing sounding wet and raspy.
“Yeah,” Matty said; he’d been there once with Mr. Hill.
“You ask for Tony. You tell them—um—you tell them that Tony’s expecting you, that Mickey sent you,” he paused for a seco
nd, then with a slight grin he said, “Mickey ‘the Mouse’”.
Mickey’s eyes rolled back and his lids fluttered shut. He appeared to lose consciousness. Matty wasn’t sure if he was alive or dead. He tried to pull his arm away, but Mickey held tight.
“Tony,” he said, coughing, “will take you to my father. Tell my father that the Russian and Kalen are behind everything.”
Mickey’s body relaxed, his hand losing its grip on Matty’s arm and falling to the ground. Mickey was dead.
Matty got up, staggering away from the body. He backed into the brick wall of the alley and slid to the ground. He’d never seen anyone die before. He looked down. His shirt was smeared with Mickey’s blood. The smell was starting to get to him. He wasn’t sure if there was actually a smell or if he was just getting sick. Real smell or not, Matty leaned over and threw up what was left of his pizza from lunch. He wiped his mouth and forced himself to stand. His legs were shaky and his stomach threatened to heave again. Just get out of the alley, he told himself. Get away from the body. Matty pushed away from the wall and ran. He ran as fast as he could, but he couldn’t go home. His mother would see the blood and freak out. He couldn’t chance seeing the Russian or Tweedle-Dum at Miller’s Pub either. He had to go to the city and find Tony. That’s what Mickey told him to do, and it was his only chance to get out of this mess alive.
Matty ducked into a convenience store. He washed his hands and face in the restroom, then turned his shirt inside out. It didn’t hide all the blood, but at least it wasn’t the first thing someone would notice. He took the subway into the city. He sat there quietly, trying to avoid being noticed. The last thing he needed was someone calling the police.
Everything that had happened was swimming around in his head. Parrish’s death, the Russian’s threat, and Mickey. The Russian’s warning—If anyone talks everyone pays—kept rolling around in his thoughts.
What if they didn’t believe him? What if the Russian could get to Matty and his mother anyway? What about the others? If anyone talks everyone pays. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t push away the Russian’s threat.
Matty’s head shot up when he realized the subway wasn’t moving. He jumped to his feet and dashed out the doors before they closed. He’d almost missed his stop. He ran past several people and made his way up the stairs to the street.
It had been almost an hour since he left Nowhere. He stood outside the back entrance to Fuller’s trying to convince himself that this was what he had to do. If anyone talks, the Russian’s threat kept creeping into Matty’s head. He was starting to lose his nerve, when the backdoor flew open. A bouncer led two ladies out.
The blonde giggled then winked. “We’ll see you later Johnnie,” she said to the bouncer, a brawny guy with black slicked-back hair.
The guy, Johnnie, had a grin on his face until he saw Matty. “What do you want, kid?”
“I’m … I’m here to see Tony,” Matty said, hoping he didn’t sound as scared as he felt.
Johnnie laughed. “Get outta here, kid.” Johnnie started back inside.
“No, wait! Tony’s expecting me. Mickey sent me,” Matty blurted before the door could close.
The guy turned back to Matty, looking him up and down. “Mickey who?”
Matty swallowed, hesitantly he said, “Mickey the Mouse.”
Johnnie scoffed. “Get outta here.”
“Tony will be mad if you don’t take me to him. You’ll get in trouble.”
The guy paused for a second, then swung the door wide and grabbed Matty by the arm. “Your funeral, kid.”
Johnnie pulled Matty up the stairs. He knocked on the half open office door at the top. Through the sliver, Matty saw a guy sitting at a desk look up.
“Boss, there’s a kid out here to see you.”
The guy looked down, picking up a paper on his desk. “Get rid of him,” he ordered.
Johnnie tightened his grip on Matty’s arm. Sneering at Matty, he said, “Mickey the Mouse indeed.”
From inside the office, the guy said, “What?”
“Oh, nothing boss.” Johnnie jumped back when the door flew open. Stammering he added, “The kid said ‘Mickey the Mouse’ sent him. I’ll take care of it.”
The man Matty assumed was Tony stared down at him. “Let him in,” Tony ordered, then returned to his seat at the desk.
Johnnie pushed Matty into the office, leaving him alone with Tony. He heard Johnnie’s footfalls clomp down the stairs.
Matty stood there, not sure what to do, as Tony stared at him. “So Mickey sent you? Where is he?”
Matty swallowed, his mouth dry. He tugged at his shirt; the blood that had soaked through, had dried to a dark reddish-brown. He was sure Tony knew exactly what it was.
“Um …” Matty wasn’t sure how to say it. Blurting it out might not have been the best choice, but he did it anyway. “He’s dead.”
Tony didn’t look like a man who was shocked easily. In fact, he looked like the kind of man that wouldn’t flinch in a gunfight. But Matty could tell that this was not what he’d expected to hear.
“What?” he said, so softly Matty almost didn’t catch it.
Licking his dry lips, Matty began. “Mickey’s dead and before he died he asked me to give his father a message. He said you’d take me to him.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed. With more fire in his voice, he asked, “What’s the message?”
Matty wasn’t about to start talking. He didn’t know who Tony was, and he wasn’t sure who he could trust. If he was going to trust anyone it was going to be the dead guy.
“He told me to only give it to his father.”
Tony paused for a beat, then said, “So you want me to take you to see Jimmy Logan?”
Matty was sure his mouth just dropped open. Until Logan’s name was mentioned, Matty hadn’t really thought about who Mickey’s father would be. He sure as hell didn’t think it would be Parrish’s favorite—the guy who was most likely to take Parrish’s spot as the big boss’s right hand man. But there was no turning back now.
Matty swallowed. “Yeah.”
Tony smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Okay. I’ll take you to see him, but you better have a damn good story to tell.”
Matty waited in the office for Tony to have his driver bring the car around. Tony had called ahead to let Logan know they were coming, but he hadn’t given Logan the bad news about his son over the phone.
Once they were on the way, Matty asked, “Why was he called ‘Mickey the Mouse’?” Matty had heard a lot of nicknames through the years—Logan was known as “Jimmy the Knife”, but “Mickey the Mouse” just didn’t fit a big time mobster’s kid.
Tony’s lip turned up into a grin, then his eyebrows drew together as if he just remembered Mickey was dead. “He wasn’t. That was just something I called him when he was little.”
“Oh.”
Tony sighed, running his hand down his face. “Logan’s not going to be happy when he finds out about Mickey. You better have some answers for him, kid.”
Matty nodded, then stayed quiet the rest of the way. Seeing Mickey die made everything different; it made everything more real. If Matty made it back, he was going to convince his mother to leave Nowhere. He didn’t want to be part of this Mob world anymore.
He was relieved and anxious as Tony’s driver pulled up in front of a three-story brownstone in the city. Matty followed Tony up the steps into the townhouse. Logan’s place was well guarded. Two of Logan’s guys greeted them as they walked into the foyer.
“Where’s Logan?” Tony asked.
“Upstairs.” The guard nodded, but kept his eyes on Matty. “Who’s the kid?”
“He’s with me,” Tony said.
Matty followed Tony up the stairs, staying close and keeping his head down. There was a long hallway on the second floor that ran the length of the townhouse. Matty almost fell into Tony when one of Logan’s guys stepped out of a small half-bath and startled him. Matty took a few deep
breaths. He was jumpy, but tried to act like nothing was wrong.
They arrived at a big oak door and Tony knocked. A muffled voice said, “Come in.”
The door creaked as Tony opened it. Matty swallowed what felt like a rock.
Inside, an old school mobster looked up from his desk—Logan, Matty assumed. Logan had probably worn a suit every day of his adult life, and he had the kind of look that demanded respect.
There were three other tough guys in the room, two sitting on a sofa off to one side and the other guarding the door. Matty felt like they were all staring at him. Even more so when Tony left him standing alone and walked over to speak with Logan.
Leaning down Tony whispered something in Logan’s ear. Matty could see the moment Logan knew why he was there. The expression on his stoic face changed. It went from confused to shocked to angry in about three seconds. Logan whispered something in Tony’s ear, then stared at Matty.
Tony straightened. Waving his hands towards the door, he said, “Everyone out.”
Matty moved further into the office—away from the exit—as they all left. Logan was still staring at him, and Matty could see the raw emotion in his eyes.
The door snicked shut behind him and Matty felt closed in. He tried not to show it, but a man he didn’t know—one more powerful that Mr. Hill—was staring daggers at him.
In an even tone that hid his true feelings, Logan finally spoke. “Give me the message.”
The lump in Matty’s throat felt bigger, but he was here now and this was the moment to come clean. He swallowed, trying to ease his apprehension, “I saw the Russian shoot Mickey. Then he said something about it not being part of Kalen’s plan.”
Logan was still listening. He didn’t interrupt.
Matty continued, “One of Hill’s new bodyguards and Chief Waters are also working with them, but Hill isn’t part of it.”
“How do you know all this?” Logan asked.
“I overheard the Russian trying to get Mickey to tell you that he didn’t trust Hill. That Hill had started acting different. But Mickey was going to talk to Hill anyway.” Matty paused. “So that’s when the Russian … shot him.”