The Last Kind Words: A Novel

by Tom Piccirilli

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  His face was blank. He swallowed thickly. His throat was dry. He knew.

  “Give it up, Chub. She deserves better than to watch you get taken down by the cops. Your daughter needs her father.”

  He stood and took two steps forward and got nose-to-nose. “This is the first thing you say to me in five years? Out of everything, that’s what you choose to say?”

  “It’s the most important thing I can think of.”

  His mouth folded into a sneer. “That’s sad, then.”

  “Maybe it is.”

  “You don’t know shit, Terry.”

  “I know they’re doing roadwork out on Vets Highway, and if you send a crew down there they’ll get snagged in traffic and get scooped up.”

  He gave a disgusted laugh. “You went through my stuff. I should’ve known. If anyone could find a second safe, it would be you. That’s why you’re in the garage. That’s why you decided to play it this way. You thieves, you think you’ve got a God-given right to stick your nose up everyone’s ass.”

  “You’re a thief too, Chub.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Maybe he was right. You could look at it that he was just a guy who aided others in pulling their scores, without really getting his hands too dirty. The cops would still give him at least a nickel upstate.

  “You’ve got no reason to keep playing the game, Chub.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are? What I do is my business.”

  “You don’t need the extra cash.”

  “You don’t know anything, Terrier. I have my reasons.”

  “Unless you’re going to tell me that your little girl has a rare blood disease, then you don’t.”

  Chub was on me in a second. He shoved me hard against the wall. He pinned me there with one hand locked on my throat and the other on my right wrist. I didn’t struggle. Sweat dappled his bald head.

  He said, “You know where I work. You must know where I live. You’ve seen my daughter. You’ve been watching us, haven’t you?” I didn’t confirm or deny. He paused, his face mottled with rage. “Did you know your old man cased my house a few months ago? I woke up and found him talking with Kimmy. Said he was checking up on her. At three in the morning. After breaking in to my house. I should’ve pressed charges and sent him to the joint, but I felt sorry for him. He looked lost.” Chub tightened his grip on me. I started to gag but I still didn’t fight him. “So what happens? You do the same thing to me. Just where the fuck do you people get off?”

  I choked out, “It’s time to change.”

  It sounded stupid and overwrought even to me. It got another ugly laugh out of him. “You’re telling me that? You? First thing you do when you get back home is fall to type. Just like your brother and uncles and father. You couldn’t wait to break in here, could you? I bet this isn’t even the first time. You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

  “Chub, I—”

  He didn’t let it go, his voice tight and hard. “Haven’t you?”

  “Listen to me.”

  “Haven’t you, Terrier?”

  “Yes.”

  He backed away from me and wrapped his arms around his chest as if to hold in his frustration and hate. “Jesus fucking Christ!”

  “Listen to me,” I said. “Forget about that.”

  “Forget about that?”

  “You have a kid. I don’t. Think about Scooter.”

  “Scooter?” He was practically screaming. “Who the hell is Scooter?”

  “Your girls. Think about your girls. Chub, don’t wreck your life. Don’t you know how easy it is to lose everything? Take it from me.”

  His eyes were full of rage and disappointment. He was so hurt and appalled that he couldn’t even look at me anymore.

  “Take what from you, Terry?” he asked. “Why don’t you explain? What life lessons have you learned since you abandoned Kimmy? Since you left her to go through the most difficult time of her life all alone? Since you vanished without a word. Guide me with your newfound wisdom. What else do you have to tell me?”

  There was nothing else to tell him, nothing further that I could elaborate on or account for. There was no way for me to articulate the all-consuming panic of being trapped in the underneath. The pure crystalline clarity of the terror that had made me run.

  I said, “Don’t make my mistakes.” I knew exactly what my brother had meant about making ghosts. It hadn’t been that difficult to figure out. I had understood without wanting to face it.

  The night of his spree he was compounding all the failures of his life, sustaining the sins, building the deeper, awful memories that he would carry to the grave with him. The underneath had welcomed him and he’d gone to it. That was the result of all that blood. He had taken his own life without putting a bullet in his head. I said, “Don’t get caught, Chub,” and left.

  Just as I was about to pull into the parking lot of the Elbow Room, my phone rang. It was Eve. I answered and was surprised at how much I looked forward to hearing her voice.

  “It’s late,” I said. “I didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight.”

  “I work late,” she said. “And talking to contacts on the night shift is the best time to get honest answers from them. They’re bored. They’re just hoping to find an ear they can bend. So I did some digging into your friend Gilmore. He’s under IAD investigation.”

  That didn’t surprise me. “For anything in particular?”

  “They think he’s tipped off some mob boys about police raids.”

  “He has. Anything about his wife? They recently separated. Anything like a restraining order? Abuse?”

  Eve paused. I knew she was still wondering how this tied in with my brother, with me. “No, nothing like that, Terry. It appears to be amicable. Neither of them has filed for divorce. Maybe they’re working it out.”

  “Anything else? Anything worse?”

  “What do you mean by worse?”

  “You tell me.”

  I could hear her lick her lips. The sound heated me up a little. “You’re worrying me now.”

  “Don’t be. I’m probably wasting my time. And yours.”

  “Well, there was nothing I could find, and I dug around pretty well. I could pull in some favors, if you like, but that might get me onto Gilmore’s radar. Do you care about that?”

  “Yeah, I do. You’ve done enough, Eve. Don’t put any more into this.”

  “What were you hoping to find?”

  “I wouldn’t say I was hoping to find anything. Thanks, Eve.”

  Her voice hardened, but not much. No one liked to pull favors for a one-night stand. “Of course. You can pay me back with dinner sometime.”

  I said, “I promise,” and I meant it.

  I walked into the Elbow Room and found Flo perched at the bar in the same place as the last time I’d been there. She had lipstick on her teeth and still smelled of Four Roses. She was chatting up a john who stared at her like she was every woman in the world he’d ever hated, from his mother to his first girlfriend to his wife. She didn’t seem to notice his brooding, intense glare. I wondered, Is this the place every guy comes to right before he goes out of his skull and butchers a helpless stranger?

  I stepped over to her and snapped a fifty in front of her face. I nodded to an empty corner in back. She whispered a few cooing words to the john, but he didn’t seem to notice. She followed me and put her hand on my ass.

  “Hey, honey,” she said, “you got a car in the lot? You look so melancholy, just pining for the one who got away, huh? You won’t even remember her name after me. Let’s go to your car and—”

  I turned and she breathed whiskey into my face. “You remember me?”

  She didn’t yet. She smiled and placed her hands on my chest and tried to take the money from my grip while humming empty promises. I gripped her by the shoulders and gave her a solid shake. Her expression tightened and her eyes focused.

  �
�Know me yet?” I asked.

  “Yeah. The white streak. Like your brother. You have a bad temper too. Buy me a drink.”

  I held on to her. Her sweaty skin felt like wet clay. “No, you’re already stewed. You can earn half a C-note by not fucking with me and just answering a couple questions. Then you can get back to your other business, right?”

  She looked back at the bar. The john was glaring at her empty seat, like he still saw her, or some other despised woman, sitting there.

  She said, “All right, all right, let me go.”

  I released her. “You know a cop named Gilmore?”

  “Sure.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  She grinned and showed me her red waxy teeth. “The night he beat the piss out of you.”

  “Right. Is he a regular around here?”

  “No, nothing like that.” She licked her lips in what she thought was a seductive manner. It made my stomach crash. “Him and a few other cops come around every once in a while. The bar’s pretty close to the precinct. When they do I usually head out the back door. But like I said, it’s not often. Not regular.”

  “He ever roust any women?” I asked. “You ever hear complaints about him? Following women? Anything like that?”

  “No. What are you going on about? What are you getting at?” She moved for the money again, and this time I let her take the bill and crush it down into her cleavage. She put her hands back on my chest and tried to push me off. “I don’t like talking about cops. I don’t want nothing to do with them.”

  “You said you were here the night my brother killed those people and was arrested.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Was Gilmore here that night? Think hard. And don’t try to bullshit me. There’s no more money to be made, so don’t string me along.”

  A disgusted giggle floated up from her chest. “You don’t want bullshit then I’ll tell you I don’t remember. I remember your brother only because of what happened. I don’t know who else was here. I don’t know if Gilmore was around. I know he wasn’t one of the cops who arrested your Collie. I would’ve remembered that. But whether Gilmore was here having a beer, I have no idea. Did you really expect I would? That anyone would?”

  It had been a stupid long shot, but it was all I had to play. “Okay, thanks.”

  I walked her back to her seat. The john continued to drunkenly glower, lost in his bitter stupor. I took two steps toward the door. The fucking bartenders in this place never seemed to cut anybody off. Flo sat beside the guy and let out a laugh that made the flesh between my shoulder blades crawl. I got the hell out of there.

  The drive home went by so fast it almost felt like it didn’t happen. My brain was on autopilot. I drove without thinking, without seeing the road. I couldn’t shake the vision of Gilmore strangling Rebecca Clarke, slowly squeezing the life out of her as she choked and gasped, and then five years later coming back to do the same thing to her sister.

  I sat in the driveway without realizing I’d pulled in and parked. Maybe it was the slap Grey had given me, maybe it had rattled my brain loose. I put my head down on the steering wheel and started to drift again. I figured I’d better get inside to bed before I woke up on the Cross Bronx Expressway doing ninety-five onto the George Washington Bridge.

  I barely got my clothes off before I hit the bed.

  I dreamed of Kimmy. I would always dream of Kimmy.

  She didn’t want to rush it. We weren’t speeding along. I had called the Montauk Lighthouse and asked a few questions about wedding ceremonies. I had the judge’s name. I knew what paperwork we needed to bring.

  We were in the mall, moving past the huge plate-glass window of Fireside Jewelers, when she unlaced her fingers from mine and stopped in her tracks.

  She glanced at me and gave a grin. I returned to her side and we stood shoulder-to-shoulder and stared through the window together.

  She had her eye on a half-carat diamond bordered by twin sapphires. Not too expensive so far as these things went, but more cash than I’d ever dropped on anything in my life. My fingertips itched.

  “I can get it cheaper,” I said.

  “You can’t steal an engagement ring.”

  “Why not?”

  “Is that the question you’re asking me? Why you can’t steal my engagement ring?”

  “Nope.”

  We stood there for what seemed like a long time. I held her to me. Moments like these, I thought I could go straight. I wanted to offer our children a life, a future, something besides a house full of decades-old loot that nobody wanted. I imagined the ring on her finger. It looked like it would hurt if she brushed it against my back while we were making love.

  We stepped inside. She tried the ring on and held it up and I kissed her finger and I kissed the piece of ice. I thought I had just enough cash in my wallet to at least make a down payment. I was wrong. They wanted twice as much. Kimmy reluctantly took the ring off but she remained giddy. I put my hand to her belly. My girl inside wasn’t moving yet.

  I reached for her.

  Sweat slid onto my lips and I heard voices in the backyard. The taste of salt reminded me of kissing down the length of Kimmy’s back that night while she giggled and eyed me over her shoulder and said, “That’s it, that’s it, worship me like a dirty goddess. Kiss me like I’ll die tonight.” I coughed and thought I should go to the window, I should see who’s out there, but I wanted to return to my girl. I rolled over. I pressed my face into the pillow. The voices stopped and the breeze carried only the scent of storm.

  Part III

  THE

  LAST

  KIND

  WORDS

  I leaped out of bed to the sound of screams. I hit the stairs and jumped down three at a time. JFK rounded the corner, barking insanely. I’d never heard him like that before. He knew something I didn’t. My mother hung wilted against the back-door jamb, hunched over but with her knees angled outward like she was about to push out a baby. Beyond her, my old man was hauling something heavy across the yard, gasping, struggling, the way he had when we’d pulled up tree stumps together. JFK circled and chewed at his hindquarters. I watched my father dragging Mal’s massive and rigid body through the dirt, guts trailing behind. His brother’s dead weight was too much for my dad, and his eyes flitted in a wild panic as he searched anywhere for help. His wet gaze finally landed on me but he was too out of breath to say anything. He mewled what could’ve been my name. My father had finally lost control. I took a step off the back porch and my knees nearly went out from under me. My mother moved to me, turned away, and tightened her arms around herself, her eyes shut tight. Grey hurtled from the back door like a ballet dancer, covering an unbelievable distance in four or five bounds. He was in a white T-shirt and boxers, which were immediately soaked through with red. Grey’s voice cracked to pieces as he shouted, “Call an ambulance!” It was too late for that. It was too late for anything. My mother wailed in response. Dale appeared at my side. She wasn’t sobbing, but the tears ran into her mouth. “Don’t move him. You’re disturbing the … the … forensic evidence. The police—” My father and Grey dragged Mal on his back, flattening the grass and digging gouges in the rain-softened earth. Mal’s head bounced across the ground, which made his tongue jut and withdraw like he was testing soup that was still too hot. His eyes were half open and perfectly focused. He seemed puzzled, a little uneasy, but not too concerned about any particular thing. His face tilted and I caught his gaze. He still had something to tell me. I rushed forward and tried to help and they batted me away. I reached for my cell phone to call Gilmore and realized I was naked.

  It rained like a son of a bitch the day we buried Mal. Some of his old grifter and heister cronies showed up and stood there in the downpour, sipping from flasks and sobbing.

  The young priest knew our family’s reputation and went full out with a morality lesson as he stood over the open grave. He had thick glasses spattered with raindrops. He had trouble
reciting certain passages and stumbled over the words, misspoke them, chased after them, his voice rising dramatically. He reached for hellfire but stammered too badly to get the proper rhythm down.

  Dale hung back with Old Shep. He was in a wheelchair and dressed to the nines, and she kept her hands on his shoulders. He wore a white fedora that my mother had placed on his head to keep him warm, and the rain ran off the ends of it. Within the etched sorrow of Dale’s face I thought I could see a hint of anger. Butch was a no-show.

  Beneath her umbrella, my mother let out occasional gasps of disbelief. I thought I could almost hear my father’s heartbeat above the wind. I kept a watchful eye. I was afraid that my old man might strangle the priest with his own rosary.

  Gilmore stood behind my mother like he was one of the family. I knew it was insane to think he was a killer, but he reminded me so much of Collie that I couldn’t let go of the fear and suspicion. There were at least five officers scattered through the cemetery, all carrying the same umbrellas and pretending not to survey us. The cops had given us hell for moving Mal, but they seemed to accept that my father and Grey had simply been too upset to think rationally. We spent four hours answering questions. They collected all the knives they could find in the house, which was maybe half. If my family had been trying to cover up the crime, there were a thousand square miles of marsh from Sheepshead Bay to Fresh Kills where we could’ve tossed the corpse.

  I stood in Grey’s suit and ill-fitting shoes. I wore one of his raincoats as well. I hadn’t knotted it properly and the tails flapped in the wind. Lin showed up and mostly hid herself under her umbrella. She didn’t introduce herself to the family and I didn’t do it for her. I probably should have, but the timing couldn’t be worse.

  Victoria and Eve each held on to one of Grey’s hands, the three of them stooped beneath Grey’s umbrella. Eve met my eyes once and gave a sad smile. I nodded back.

  Somehow we got through the service. They lowered Mal in and everyone passed by and tossed roses into the flooded grave. His grifter friends threw in other bits as well. Coins, photos, goodbye notes they’d written, pocket Bibles. They were more emotional than I would have guessed. A few were openly crying. One fumbled his way toward Grey and nearly knocked him over. Another drew my father into a wild bear hug. My mother appeared to know them both and whispered and consoled them until they clumsily moved off.