Needles

by William Deverell

  A small, dark wave of guilt darted through her.

  Goddamnit, Jennifer, the guy is capital M married . . . goes home to her every night (except weekends?) and seems to want to talk about her, seems to be searching for answers about her. Evilly, Jennifer Tann decided that she probably treated him unkindly, kept him somehow beaten and in servility. The woman was in his heart, but surely he was not in hers — and the territory was therefore open to minor trespass.

  The guilt again. One does not furtively seek another’s man.

  Even if this Mrs. Cobb fucks him over, it could be she simply cannot help it. It’s an imperfect world, and women learn their bourgeois roles, and sometimes are forced to be cruel to survive in the male world. Okay, there’s all that, but . . . damn, there’s that need in him, that longing for affection which his sadness sometimes speaks of.

  Therefore: his lady does not answer his wants. There.

  Tann had a picture of her, gained from reading liberally between the lines that Cobb had spoken. Over-indulged. Sexy, damn it. Sort of beautiful — if you like a big ass and big boobs. Flirts. Plays around? Yeah, sure, the sneak. Enjoys laying her trips on people. All sorts of Anglo control.

  The woman had very few qualities that she admired, and therefore did not deserve to have this nice man, and therefore it was okay for her to like the guy a lot, to like the man’s head, and to be fond of him, sort of . . . physically.

  And maybe to invite him in tonight?

  Guilt, guilt, guilt.

  “Is this your street?” He speaks! Now, how is one to handle this little campaign?

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “I’m the little house behind the big cedar tree. It’s small, but cozy.” Yes, let him know it’s cozy in there.

  “Big yard, little house.”

  “Little, but friendly.” She smiled. “Just one bedroom.” With a big comfy old bed in it, Mr. Foster L. Cobb. In case you’re interested. Which you’re probably not, you prune.

  “What’s that in the window?”

  “A mandala. It helps keep me centred.”

  “Centred, hey?” He’s probably too shy to ask what the hell that means. What does this ignorant straight lawyer know from mandalas?

  The car is stopped at her curb. There is a long pause. And she is definitely feeling very uncentred.

  Okay. Sink or swim. “Would you like to come in?” Now why did she have to clear her throat to get those words out?

  He looked at her, and with a hand he brushed some unruly blond strands of hair from his forehead. And those little lines beside his eyes did their cute crinkling number, and he . . . actually smiled at her! “That’s hard to resist, Jenn . . .” But? But what? “. . . but it’s kind of late. Deb is away weekends, you know, and I don’t get to spend much time with her during a trial. And we have some talking to do.”

  Ouch, ouch. The nail is driven straight to the centre of her conniving little heart.

  “But if you’re going to stay up a little late tonight,” he said, “you might like to read these wiretap transcripts for me. Honcho finally got his hands on them.” He passed her a file from his briefcase. “Cudlipp doesn’t know about the tap. The local cops have decided to keep it away from the Mounties for a while. Interesting reading.”

  Fine. Great. A little homework to take to bed tonight. So romantic.

  “Sure,” she said faintly, “I’ll read them, make some notes.” (Sure you don’t want to come in and look at my mandalas?) “What time tomorrow?”

  “I’m having Charlie brought in early so I can take one more go at him before he gets on the stand. If Smitty’s in form, he’ll turn him right against us. So I’ve got to spend some time with Ming. Seven-thirty in the morning.”

  “I’ll be there.” So loyal, considering she was just kicked in the teeth. “Good night.” May you develop a great boil on your bum.

  “Sweet dreams.”

  Then, out of nowhere, his hand reached out . . . and touched her arm, her hand . . . and there was a little squeezing of hands together. And sparks went through her.

  Then his hand was gone, and so was she: fumbling and bumbling her way out of the car, clutching the transcripts, then standing awkwardly on the sidewalk, crouching down to get a glimpse of him, waving at him, grinning there on the sidewalk like a simp. . . .

  And he drove off.

  Inside, she showered, washed her hair, rolled up a little joint, and crawled into a cold bed with the transcripts.

  Tape #17 On:4 Dec 77 17:10 Cst. Lesage

  Off:4 Dec 77 19:25

  Conversation at 254’ Mark

  U/M: Archie’s Steak House.

  U/M: Joey?

  U/M: No, just a sec.

  Joey: Hello.

  U/M: Hi, it’s me.

  Joey: Yeah?

  U/M: Greek.

  Joey: Oh, yeah, how are you? What’s cooking?

  Greek: Your bud got hit.

  Joey: Who? What’re you talking about?

  Greek: Jimmy.

  Joey: Fat got hit? How, what do you mean?

  Greek: Think he got a little close to the man. Your phone safe?

  Joey: Yeah, it’s okay, it’s a business phone. Let me take it in the office.

  Greek: Call me back. I’m at a pay phone. Let’s see, uh, 870-5513.

  Joey: 870-5513. Okay, in a few seconds.

  Greek: Okay.

  . . .

  Greek: Yep.

  Joey: What went?

  Greek: Listen to the news. They found him grinning from the throat.

  Joey: Oh, fuck.

  Greek: Cut out his tongue and his nuts. So you know.

  Joey: Yeah. I thought something like that might be going down. I told him he was a heat-bag. I seen him down in the back, in the bar, sitting with the man.

  Greek: I know.

  Joey: You know?

  Greek: There ain’t gonna be no more fucking with civil servants. That’s the word. Or you’re long gone, John, and I’m telling you that because Jimmy used to hang around there, and the horsemen knew this, so your place could be in for a little steam, you know.

  Joey: Fuck. What a pisser. Fucking dirty duty.

  Greek: Yeah, one day you’re doing easy fucking fast deals and wheels, up with the kingpin all the way from the pounds down to fucking single caps, next day you’re cold and mould in the ground.

  Joey: What a fucker. I can’t believe it. Jimmy was down two, three days ago buying the drinks, flush, laying cash sweetly all over.

  . . .

  U/M: Hello, who’s that?

  Joey: Dino, get the fuck off the line, and don’t let no one use the phone while I’m on it.

  Dino: Oh, jeez, sorry.

  Joey: Jesus.

  Greek: Well, don’t sweat it. Just cool it. Listen, I gotta go. There’s half a unit here if you want. I got the mixer and the empty apcays if it’s cool maybe later on in your kitchen.

  Joey: No, no, been keeping it cool anyway, and I don’t want no shmeck, you know, especially if the temperature around here starts to go up like you say. You can come by and take the grinder and maybe lay a couple of small ones on me, but I don’t want nothing happening here for a while, hey?

  Greek: Okay, I’ll drop by.

  Joey: What a bitch, hey?

  Greek: Yeah. Look, sorry, I know you were buds and all. He just wasn’t cool, you know?

  Joey: Yeah, but fuck. God.

  Greek: See you, Joey.

  Joey: Yeah, bye.

  Tann took a long, sweet toke and slowly blew the smoke out. Who was the “civil servant” Jim Fat was close to? A narc? That should be checked out, she thought.

  Conversation at 281’ Mark

  U/F: Hello.

  Joey: Hi, Babe.

  U/F: Oh, wow, you sound far away.

  Joey:
Right here at the restaurant, Ginger.

  Ginger: Wow. Everything is far away.

  Joey: You just do up or something?

  Ginger: How’d you guess?

  Joey: How’d I guess, you spinny looney.

  Ginger: Hey, I’m not, you know.

  Joey: You’re a fucking needle freak, you know that?

  Ginger: I like it. Makes me feel all horny for you when you come home.

  Joey: Bullshit, you dishrag.

  Ginger: You gotta be nice to me, Joey, or I won’t do it to you no more.

  Joey: That don’t do nothing for me if you’re usin’, babe.

  Ginger: Aw, honey.

  Joey: I know what I get when I come home. Fucking dishes all over. You don’t even clean the spoon you cook it in. Fucking mess all over the place. Johnny Carson blaring at me from the tv, and you’re nodding on the sofa with your clothes on, and I gotta clean your mess and put you to bed, and you’re as horny as a lump of shit and smell like an old used armpit. Jesus, I get tired of it.

  Ginger: Hey, honey, what’s going down?

  Joey: Aw, shit, I heard Jimmy Fat just got ex’d. I just phoned to tell you. Aw, fuck, you’re in no condition. I’m gonna go out and get pissed tonight. Find myself some sweet juicy whore who’s still got some fuck in her. Aw, shit, I’ll see you.

  Ginger: Hey, baby, hey.

  What a crummy relationship they have, Tann thought. So far, not much useful in this stuff.

  Tape #18 On:4 Dec 77 19:19 Cst. Lesage

  Off:4 Dec 77 21:03

  Conversation at 83’ Mark

  Joey: Archie’s Steak House.

  U/M: I guess you heard.

  Joey: Hi, Jingo. Yeah, what a bum.

  Jingo: You and him was pretty tight, so I’m sorry, but the word is he was rapping with one of the finest, and setting up the White Lady for a lifer in the slam.

  Joey: Well, I don’t know about the last part, but a few weeks ago I seen him here sitting with the heat, and a few times before that. I thought the man was pumping him for stuff, but I keep my ears open and my mouth closed, you know, a little. The narc, Cuddles Cudlipp, he’s been nosing around here a lot, comes in for a drink, looking for Jimmy, stays, chats up the girls, and you know, they’re fucking busy, Cindy just quit, and we’re short-staffed, and they don’t need his hands pawing at their pussies all the time, and he knows me, knows I’m on parole for that beef they made me on in ’75, you know, and he’s watching me to see if I’m using, you know, looks at my eyes, squints at me, like, but he can see I got no marks, and if it wasn’t for Ginnie, I wouldn’t have any smack around, but this cop comes on all friendly, just keeping tabs, looking for Jimmy, and the house buys him a few, and he likes to knock a few back, this cop, a real juicehead.

  Jingo: Yeah, I’m hearing some stories about him, but you know, you hear stories about narcs all the time, and you don’t know what to believe.

  Joey: Yeah, well, I’m gonna get hammered tonight. Come on down after closing, we’ll go out, hit the booze can, nothing else will be open tonight. You gotta little blow with you? I can use a little snort or two to buoy me up.

  Jingo: I got.

  Joey: You always got, you’re the snowman.

  Jingo: Sure, let’s get blasted. You know who did the trip on Jimmy?

  Joey: Yeah, I know. I think you know, too.

  Jingo: They’ll never make him. They never make him on anything.

  Joey: No, he just wipes off the blood and slime and laughs at them.

  Jingo: I heard he don’t laugh much. You ever met him?

  Joey: No. Jimmy talked about him. Thought he was the Lord High Muckey-Muck. Cold. Cold, man. Cold as the end of an Eskimo’s dink. He don’t fuck chicks. He don’t eat cock. Don’t do dope. He don’t boogie. Only one thing turns him on.

  Jingo: What?

  Joey: Cutting people’s nuts off, then watchin’ them die.

  Jingo: Jeez.

  Joey: Yeah. Make sure you bring the after-burner.

  Jingo: Right on. See you.

  Joey: See you.

  So: The civil servant was Cudlipp, Smythe-Baldwin’s witness. Why had he been hanging around with Jim Fat? What was the connection?

  Tape #28 On:17 Dec77 20:43 Cst. Orville

  Off:18 Dec77 11:25

  Conversation at 28’ Mark

  U/M: Archie’s Steak House.

  U/M: Can I speak to Alice.

  U/M: She’s with a customer. Can you hold on?

  U/M: Yeah, sure.

  . . .

  Alice: Hello.

  U/M: Hi, do you know who this is?

  Alice: Voice sounds familiar.

  U/M: I like it well-done.

  Alice: I’m sure you do.

  U/M: With fries, onion rings.

  Alice: Uh-huh.

  U/M: Drink Heinies.

  Alice: I know you. You’re the twelve-ounce

  T-bone.

  U/M: Hey, that’s pretty good.

  Alice: Well, I noticed you.

  U/M: Well, I’ve been looking at you, too.

  Alice: You were down here last weekend, just after I started here.

  U/M: I guess that’s why I never seen you around before. I eat down there a lot. I said to myself, hey, they finally hired something good-looking down here.

  Alice: Gee, flattery will get you everything. So, what are you up to?

  U/M: Oh, nothing much, for a Saturday night. Sitting in front of the old tv watching a crummy movie. Not too exciting for a single man on a Saturday night, I guess.

  Alice: So what’s a good-looking old stud like you doing being single on a Saturday night?

  U/M: I wish I knew. I figure maybe later on I’ll go out for a few drinks.

  Alice: Uh-huh.

  U/M: Wouldn’t mind a little company. I don’t know what your situation is. Maybe you got something happening, I don’t know, but if you’re not doing anything after you get off shift, how would you like to get together?

  Alice: Well, now, Mr. T-bone, I might just be able to manage that. I’m off at eleven.

  U/M: You told me you sometimes like to down a couple after work.

  Alice: Did I say that? I must of been hinting or something.

  U/M: Should I meet you outside there?

  Alice: Sure. About ten after.

  U/M: You know what I do?

  Alice: Seems to me I heard something about you around here. Doesn’t bother me at all. I like a little pork once in a while.

  U/M: Well-done?

  Alice: Raw.

  U/M: I’ll pick you up just after eleven.

  Alice: Bye.

  U/M: Bye.

  Tape #33 On:21 Dec 77 22:12 Cst. Orville

  Off:22 Dec 77 16:00

  Conversation at 132’ Mark

  U/F: Good evening, Archie’s Steak House.

  U/M: Hi, who’s this?

  U/F: It’s Alice, who’s this?

  U/M: Why, it’s Robert Redford, looking for a new co-star, but I need to do a little screen test first for the bedroom scene.

  Alice: Hi, there, Jingo. Afraid you ain’t got a bed big enough to hold me?

  Jingo: What I got is big enough for you.

  Alice: Don’t flash it around. Somebody might think it’s a match and try to light it. You want to speak to Joey? He’s in the kitchen, I’ll get him.

  . . .

  Joey: Jingo Balls, Jingo Balls.

  Jingo: Jingo all the way. Hey, man, you called.

  Joey: Weird. You know who was here tonight?

  Jingo: Margaret Trudeau.

  Joey: Close enough. That narc, Cudlipp. He’s been in here a few times since, you know, Jimmy met his. Still poking around, looking for something. But this time he brought a friend, a lady, a White Lady.


  Jingo: Oh, yeah?

  Joey: They wandered in together, looked around, sort of. He’s looking very dapper and spiffy, and he turns on the charm. Alice is just swimming. She gets them, the dick takes a Heineken, the top man has a Courvoisier, you know, in a snifter, wants it warmed. I don’t know, Alice probably puts it between her legs. He gives her a twenty, tells her, you know, don’t bother to break it. Thank God the house keeps half. Alice is just purring around them, Cudlipp takes a pinch of her ass like he always does, I don’t know, he’s probably fucking her. She’d be rolling in it if she sold it, the way she puts out, but she’s just dripping for the Lady, he’s so swav-ay, you dig?

  Jingo: All right!

  Joey: They’re sitting in the back, not in the bar, in the dining room, way at the back, deep in conversation, I don’t know what about, but this has become the copper’s, like, bailwick, and he knows people around here keep their mouths shut, like I never said nothing when he used to meet Jimmy here. It’s a safe place, you know, whatever your scam is, but I get the impression the cop is on the take, somehow, they’re too friendly.

  Jingo: Out of sight.

  Joey: Archie, you know, my old man, he’s down tonight checking out the till, and he sees these dudes talking very cozy in the back and comes up to me and says, he says, Joey, I told you we don’t want no fucking fruits in here.

  Jingo: All right! Outrageous.

  Joey: I lay this trip on him about it’s a fucking narc and somebody important, I don’t tell him who, and he says I don’t want no fucking narcs hanging around either, upsets the regular clientele, if you can dig it.

  Jingo: All right!

  Joey: So they have their drinks, and just saunter out. The top man gives me this winning smile and a nice-to-see-you-again like we’re good old buds, and Cudlipp takes me aside. Says, Joey, he says, this place is cool. No hassles. Like, man, he promises nobody’s gonna bring any heat down on Archie’s friendly little neighborhood steak house.

  Jingo: Sounds weird.

  Joey: So there he was, sitting right in my dad’s place, this spiffy sucker, so cool butter wouldn’t melt, and I’m thinking, you know, here’s the guy who sliced up poor old Jim Fat, and just cold as anything, cuts out his tongue, and he’s smiling at me, and I don’t have the jam to say anything, of course, and I’m sort of wondering, hey, what’s going on here, what’s going down, I mean, here’s this guy, kills, tortures, I guess, my friend, and he’s out on bail like he owns the fucking city, which he probably does, half of, anyway, and fuck, I need to go out and get a little zingo, Jingo, I mean, you want to do a little blow, a little snow, a little ho-ho-ho, have a little Christmas party, because shit, Ginnie’s a little pissed off, threatening to split, ’cause I ain’t providing, you know, I closed it down, too much hassle with the steam in here damn near every night, Cudlipp hanging around all the time. I don’t think I trust the sucker.