Brooklyn Noir

by Tim McLoughlin

  I was raking pretty violently, trying to keep Stella out of my mind. The way her black hair fell in her face. The way her ass had hung out of her crappy cutoffs that first night I’d met her at the bar. I started focusing harder on the rake I was using and how it was falling apart. I envisioned a trip to the Home Depot out at Coney Island to get a new one. I imagined the brightly lit aisles full of useful items. Then I imagined Stella in there with me. I stopped raking.

  I was standing there half-paralyzed by my thoughts when the front gate rattled and Dwight Ross suddenly appeared in the stable yard.

  I wasn’t glad to see him and the feeling was obviously mutual.

  “Triple Harrison, I want my fucking horse back,” Ross said.

  Dwight Ross had always been on the thin side, but now he looked like a whisper would knock him down. His red hair needed cutting and, as he came close, I could see that his navy blue suit had pea-sized pills all over it.

  “You stole my mare,” Dwight hissed, coming to stand two inches away from me. “Don’t fuck with me, Triple, took me six months to find you and I’m not leaving without my horse.”

  “She’s mine now,” I said, trying to seem calm even though I was anything but. I pulled air into my lungs, trying to make myself huge. Dwight backed up a little and started looking around at the horse stalls. He located Culprit’s and started unlatching it.

  “Don’t go in there, Ross,” I said. “Don’t touch that horse.” I felt myself getting hysterical.

  “You want to take this to the law?” Dwight asked, as he got the latch undone and went to stand next to my mare.

  “I don’t think you do,” I warned. Six months earlier, I’d been working as a groom, looking after Dwight Ross’s string of horses at Aqueduct Racetrack. One day about a month into my tenure there, I caught Dwight trying to inject E. coli into Kiss the Culprit’s knee. Of course, I hadn’t realized what was in the syringe at the time, but I could tell by the way Dwight jumped when I walked in that the massive syringe did not belong in Culprit’s knee. I’d already been suspicious about some of the stuff he was doing to his horses, though it wasn’t till that moment that I fully realized he was one evil motherfucker. He was trying to kill the mare to collect the insurance and split the proceeds with the owner.

  I happened to have a pitchfork in my hand and I didn’t hesitate to use it. I pinned Ross to the wall and made him hand the syringe over and get out. He issued a few choice threats as he backed out of the stall. I figured it wouldn’t take long for him to make good on the threats, but for that moment, he had hightailed it away from the barn. I had skipped bail on a beef in Florida two years earlier so I wasn’t in a position to go to the authorities. I couldn’t stand the idea of leaving the horse there unprotected though, so I decided to take her. I went into Dwight’s office and forged the paperwork, then I loaded the mare into Dwight’s horse trailer. She walked into the trailer without fussing. It seemed to me she knew I was saving her. As I passed through security and drove the trailer away from the Aqueduct backside, I kept expecting to hit a snag and get caught. But I made it. I stashed Culprit at a little stable near Prospect Park while I figured out what to do. I was now unemployed and broke with a horse to take care of. I figured I’d make do though. All my life I’d been taking care of things, stray cats and dogs and crazy women.

  After a week, I got the lifeguard job—swimming was the only thing I was good at apart from taking care of horses—and, not long after I’d made arrangements for keeping Culprit at The Hole, I’d moved into one of the abandoned houses just down the road. I hooked into the electric at one of the stables, and ran a hose in from the yard for water. Culprit and I had settled into a nice daily routine and we’d both been doing just fine. Until now.

  Dwight Ross was still standing in my mare’s stall.

  “Come on, Ross,” I said in a quiet voice, “get out of there. Now.”

  At that he smiled. I didn’t see what was funny though.

  “I had the crazy idea you’d be reasonable about this,” Dwight said, leveling a gun I didn’t know he had at me.

  “That was a crazy idea, all right,” I told him. I could see worry in his eyes even though he was the one with a gun.

  “I’m taking my mare back and I will hurt you if I have to,” he said in a shrill voice. He stepped out of the stall to reach for Culprit’s halter.

  I didn’t think. Just grabbed for something. Turned out to be a shovel. Ross had his back to me. He heard me move but not in time. I slammed the business end of the shovel into the side of his head. He went down face first. Culprit spooked and her eyes got huge.

  I walked over and put my palm over the end of my mare’s nose and brought her big head against my chest.

  “It’s okay,” I told the horse as I scratched her muzzle.

  I looked down at Ross. He wasn’t moving. I pushed on his shoulder, trying to turn him over. His body felt funny. His eyes and mouth were open. There was blood matted into his red hair. I realized he wasn’t just unconscious.

  I started feeling dizzy and I couldn’t get myself to move. Culprit was looking at me with curiosity, her ears pricked forward.

  “What do I do now, girl?” I asked. She just kept looking at me though.

  It was getting close to 7 a.m. Pretty soon, people would be arriving at the other barns.

  I left Dwight’s body in the stall but led my mare out and tied her up in the yard. I didn’t want her looking at the body.

  I walked back to my house to get the car keys. My stomach was doing backflips. I went inside and it smelled a little like Stella. That didn’t help any.

  I got my keys and went back outside. My ’86 Chevy Caprice Classic had once been blue but now it was just dirt-colored. It still ran though. The engine coughed to life and I drove to the front of the stable yard. I opened the big metal gates wide enough to get the car in, nosing it ahead slowly so as not to alarm Culprit. She stared at the car but she didn’t spook.

  I dragged Dwight’s body out of the stall, pulling it by the feet. The head bounced along the dirt making a funny sound that made me sick.

  I had to shuffle the shit in my trunk around. There were some empty feedbags, a small cooler, a horseshoe, and a pair of Stella’s panties. I made room, then hoisted the body in. Dwight Ross was much heavier in death than he’d ever been in life. I had to bunch him into a fetal position to get him to fit. I put the empty feedbags over his body, then closed the trunk. My heart was beating too fast.

  I went and put Culprit back into her stall. I stood for a few minutes leaning my head against her muscular neck, getting strength. My mare just stood there, seeming to understand.

  I made sure all the horses had enough water before getting in the car, driving it out, and locking the stable gates behind me.

  The minute I pulled out onto Linden Boulevard, I found that I needed a cigarette. I hadn’t had one in four years. I drove a few blocks through thickening morning traffic. The sun was up high now, a glowing yellow ball in a faultless blue sky. The brightness made me need that cigarette even more.

  I pulled off the road when I came to a little grocery store. Nosed the Chevy near the front door of the place and ran in. Asked for a pack of Newports. I was dying for a smoke but I didn’t want a brand I actually liked. I paid the thin old man at the counter and took the wrapping off the pack.

  “No smoking in here,” the old man said. I nodded, pulled one cigarette from the pack, and stepped outside to light it. I figured I would smoke it there so as not to stink up the car. But my car wasn’t there. I looked left and right and ahead, to the thick traffic of Linden Boulevard. My car was gone.

  I went back into the store.

  “Yeah?” the old man said, cocking his chin at me.

  “You seen my car?”

  “What?” He sounded angry.

  “My car, it was right there,” I said, motioning to the store’s tiny parking lot.

  The old man just looked at me like I was a fool.

  I went
back out. Looked around some more. I felt my body getting heavier. I couldn’t stand up anymore. I sunk down to the lip of the sidewalk and held my head between my hands. Eventually, I lit the cigarette. It scorched my lungs and felt nice. A car pulled into the tiny lot and went right where my Caprice had been. Two teenaged girls got out. They both had oil in their black hair and the sun made it shine.

  I smoked.

  I’d had a lot of problems in my thirty-nine years of life, but never this many. I lit a second cigarette. I coughed a little but kept smoking anyway. The girls emerged from the store, both clutching bottles of Yoo-hoo. Seemed to me Yoo-hoo would be unpleasant at 7:30 in the morning.

  Eventually, the thin old man came out of his store and told me to leave. I guess for the price of a pack of smokes, I was entitled to twenty-some minutes on his sidewalk, but no more. I got up and walked.

  The air was getting warmer and the sun looked too big looming above Linden Boulevard. I imagined the giant orb swelling so much it got too heavy for the sky and came plum-meting down, plunging the world into darkness.

  As I walked the few blocks back to The Hole, I kept glancing over at the cars that passed by on the busy avenue. None of them were mine.

  When I got to Dumont Avenue, I stood there for a minute, at the periphery of The Hole, looking at the newly constructed houses that had recently sprung up all along the edge of the little canyon. Square cement boxes that already looked depressed, even though they were brand new and hadn’t killed anybody’s dreams yet.

  I walked on down the dip where paved road gave way to dirt. The barns were humming with activity now. Feed was being dispensed, stalls were being mucked. These were comforting, normal sounds, but I didn’t feel comforted.

  I went into Culprit’s stall and started currying her. Taking extra care with every aspect of the grooming procedure, knowing maybe this was the last time.

  Two weeks passed. There was fear in me but I didn’t cultivate it. All I kept thinking was how I hadn’t meant to kill the guy. I’d never killed anything in my life. Not even a goddamned bug.

  Now that I had no car, I had to take the bus to work. It was a long ride but I used the time to read some horsemanship books I’d picked up. I studied these books, and every afternoon, when I got off my shift at the pool, I’d take the bus back to East New York, take my mare out, and work with her in the tiny paddock behind the barn. I wasn’t even riding her much, mostly just worked her on a lunge line, getting her used to my voice commands. There were pure moments when it was just me and my horse and we saw into each other. Then worry would creep in and sully the joy.

  One afternoon, I was in the paddock with Culprit, working on some things. I called out “Canter,” saying it slow and drawn out. I said it a few times, and then she threw her head around a little, protesting awhile before finally transitioning into the canter. Something red caught my eye and I looked over my shoulder and saw Stella sitting on a barrel outside the paddock. She was wearing a red sweatshirt and she’d cut bangs in her hair. I told Culprit to halt. My mare looked surprised and then obliged and came to a standstill.

  “What’s up?” Stella said like it was nothing at all.

  “Hi Stella,” I said in the same way, even though I’d never expected to see her again.

  She watched as I finished up with Culprit then put the mare back in her stall. As I took care of barn chores, Stella sat on a trunk and didn’t say much. I didn’t ask.

  When I’d finished feeding and watering the horses, Stella followed me back to the house.

  “Where’s your car?” she asked as we walked up the two crooked steps to my porch.

  “Stolen,” I said.

  “You reported it?”

  “What for?” I shrugged, not wanting to share the details with her.

  “They turn up,” she said. “I had one stolen before. Cops found it two months later. You gotta report it.”

  “Nah,” I said, not knowing why she cared about the damned car. She kept on about it too. Asking how I was getting to work and whatnot. She’d never asked so many questions before, about anything. Maybe she was turning over a new leaf.

  I was hungry but I’d run out of food, so instead of eating, Stella and I went to bed.

  I had some questions for her, but they’d keep.

  I put my hands on her hips. She was wearing cutoffs even though it was chilly out. She looked up at me but there was nothing to read in her eyes. She wore a small smile but even that wasn’t saying much. I moved my left hand from her hip and up under her t-shirt, tracing her nipple with my fingertip. I lifted the shirt up and bit a line from between her breasts down to her shorts. She wiggled a little, responding, coiling, ready. I peeled her shorts down over her ass. She wasn’t wearing panties. She turned around then, showing me her pale and pretty ass. I bent her over the bed and entered her. There was some violence in it.

  Stella and I had gone at it twice already and had both passed out on the floor, exhausted. I’m not sure how long I’d been sleeping when she woke me by putting her mouth on me.

  Then we were making love again. After a few minutes, I pulled back from her and cupped her dark head in my hands.

  “Where’ve you been, Stella?” I asked softly.

  “I was mad,” she said.

  “At what?”

  “At you, Triple.”

  “You wanna tell me why so I don’t do it again?”

  “Not really,” she said with a small shrug. Her shoulders were narrow. They looked cute shrugging.

  Okay. I picked her up and carried her into the kitchen. Propped her ass up against the sink and fucked her there. I’d never fucked anyone against a sink before. It got Stella pretty worked up. Her black eyes showed fire. Something close to passion. And, at the same time, she was nicer than usual. Almost tender.

  In the morning, she didn’t leave. Was still lying in my bed as I got dressed. I felt a little conflicted about it. Half of me wanted her to stay as long as she pleased, but the other half didn’t want to go through the changes when she left me for good.

  “I gotta go to work soon,” I told her.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “Have to go to work?”

  “I got fired,” she said casually.

  She’d been working at a convenience store over in Howard Beach. I couldn’t really imagine how anyone could get fired from that kind of job.

  “What happened?” I asked her.

  “I got mad,” she said, leaving it at that.

  “And now you’re moving in with me?” I asked.

  “If that’s all right,” she answered, looking at me, not showing anything.

  “I guess it is,” I said.

  I’d had a few women move in with me before. For various reasons having little to do with love or affection. One to get away from a rough husband. Another to be closer to work. I hadn’t had one move in out of poverty though. Always room for a first.

  I told my new roommate I was heading out to the barn.

  “Okay,” she said.

  I put my clothes and boots on and went out. Fed the horses and mucked their stalls. The sun rose up from its hiding place and another bright day came on like a curse.

  I walked back to the house to get some money out of my drawer before heading in to work. I did this in plain view of Stella. If she wanted to hit my little stash then so be it. As I stuffed a twenty in my pocket, Stella actually got up off the bed and kissed me goodbye like an old wife.

  I walked to the bus stop.

  I sat lording over the pool, reading my horse books. Once in a while Stella would come into my mind, but I didn’t let her stay there. Thinking about her too hard might make her vanish.

  At the end of my shift, I got the bus back to The Hole. I wanted to spend a good hour working with Culprit. I went into the house first to see if Stella was still there. She was lying on the floor, wearing a pair of baggy gym shorts, reading a tractor manual that for some
reason I’d held onto from my days working on a horse farm in Maryland.

  She glanced up and smiled. She looked so sweet and good. I got a hard-on and had to do something about it.

  We were rolling around against the filthy carpet when I heard the car and saw the flash of cherry lights against the window.

  “What’s that?” Stella asked.

  “Police,” I said. I’d been expecting it so long it was almost a relief.

  “What do they want?” Stella asked, standing up.

  “No idea,” I said.

  A few heartbeats later they were knocking on the door. I put my pants on, gave Stella a minute to go in the other room, then opened the door.

  One cop was white, the other black. They were both wide but built low to the ground. They looked like shrubbery.

  “Yes?” I said.

  “Triple Harrison?” the black one said.

  “Yes?”

  “’86 Chevy Caprice Classic? Blue?” the white one asked.

  “Yeah, it was stolen,” I said. My insides felt funny.

  “Right, we got the report,” the white one again. What report? I wondered.

  “Vehicle was abandoned in the Rockaways. It’s at the tow facility near JFK. You’ll have to deal with it,” the black cop said.

  “Oh,” I replied, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It didn’t.

  The black cop had me sign some papers and wished me a nice day. I stood in my doorway, watching them get back in the patrol car. Mrs. Nagle from next door had her head sticking out of her house.

  “They found my car!” I shouted over to Mrs. Nagle. She cocked her head but said nothing. She was mostly senile.

  “Your car turned up?” Stella asked as I closed the door. She hadn’t found a reason to put her clothes back on. “Yeah, my car,” I said, frowning.

  “I reported it stolen,” she said proudly. “I went and filled out the forms while you were at work. They found it fast.” She smiled, showing teeth.

  “Oh,” I said, deciding not to tell her this might lead to my being locked up for life.