by Paul O'Brien
Blood Red Turns Dollar Green
Vol. 2
By Paul O’Brien
Copyright © 2013 Paul O’Brien
All rights reserved.
Smashwords Edition
To me Ma and Da.
And to Mick Foley. Thank you for taking the time to help a complete stranger out. I hope to be able to return the favour someday.
Edited by Úna Ryan.
Robbie Shorley.
CHAPTER ONE
October 9th 1972.
Three days after Annie’s murder.
New York.
Danno wanted to immediately follow his wife. When he heard. When he identified her. When he had to leave her there. When he arrived home alone. When he lay in their bed. And when he realized that he had nothing else that he wanted to live for.
He wanted to follow his wife. But he couldn’t.
Not until he made right her death.
And if everyone in the business had to lose so he could do that – then so be it.
The car Danno was being taxied in bounced at odds with the weather-worn track underneath it. The heavy, wet branches rubbed and slapped the metal of the car until it eased through the tight woodland passage and could see the clearing. It was a quiet, flatland where a circle of parked cars shone their collective lights to form a midnight meeting place.
Apart from the invited, there was no one around for miles. There were only more empty forests and more darkness.
Upstate New York was a perfect place for Danno to start on his promise.
Ricky Plick’s concerned eyes checked on his boss through the rearview mirror. He had been to Texas and back with his boss, on the most heartbreaking of trips. He kept looking back to see if Danno would give him the nod to turn the car around and get out of there.
But Danno didn’t nod.
Ricky pulled into their assigned spot and added his headlights to the field’s center stage. The rain walloped unevenly off the window in splashes.
“Let’s get out of here boss,” Ricky said calmly. “We can take our time to rethink this.”
Ricky knew that Danno was a cerebral man. A man hardwired for strategy over rash decisions. It was that very same philosophy that kept Danno at the top of their business for the last few years.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Danno simply replied as he watched Proctor King get dragged from one of the cars into the illuminated circle.
Proctor King was the boss over the Florida territory. Both he and Danno had a long, public, bitter dispute that escalated into a dangerous realm. A realm that brought threats to their families. Their rivalry ended only three nights before – with Danno outmaneuvering Proctor and taking over his Florida territory.
On finding out his territory was gone, Proctor warned Danno that he would get retribution. That same night, Danno’s wife was murdered in a small Texan hotel room.
“Proctor was with us when … it happened,” Ricky reminded Danno.
The shine of the direct headlights and the torrent of rain made it hard for Proctor to see who summoned him. Having heard what happened to Annie Garland, he hoped it wasn’t who he thought it was.
“Does he seem scared to you?” Danno asked Ricky as Proctor was forced to kneel down in the middle of the lights.
Ricky took a second before answering. “You don’t need to do this.”
“You can leave anytime you want,” Danno replied.
Ricky had watched Danno enter into the cut-throat wrestling business late in his life. He saw for himself how Danno would be ignored and dismissed, but largely remain the same man – the same thoughtful and rational man. To others watching that was a sign of weakness but to reasonable men, like Ricky Plick, it was a sign of integrity. A quality that was about to leave him for good.
Danno opened his door and was quickly engulfed in the swirling wind and thick rain. The cars of the remaining bosses from the National Wrestling Council started their engines. This night’s meeting put them all in a position that they would never ordinarily put themselves in – so one by one their cars left the water-soaked field and headed back to their hotels.
They showed their respect and unity by delivering Proctor. What Danno chose to do next, none of them wanted to see or be witness to. Although they all knew exactly what the intent was.
The hired hand, Mickey Jack Crisp, held an already stunned Proctor King in position on his knees.
“Danno,” Proctor pleaded. “I had nothing to do with anything. You won fair and square. You got my territory.”
Proctor looked down and saw a black plastic sheet being pulled into the grave it covered by the weight of the pooling rain.
The picture was starting to form into a reality.
“Jesus Christ, Danno. I didn’t … I was with you. I didn’t do anything,” Proctor shouted.
“You don’t have to do this,” Ricky quietly pleaded as his haggard looking employer took his first steps into the remaining light.
“I didn’t do it,” Proctor said with his eyes firmly planted on Danno’s.
“I told you that we were going to do this again someday,” Danno said as he pulled a .38 Special from his pocket and put it to Proctor’s right eye. “You threatened my family once before and I put a gun to your face, but I didn’t act.”
“Danno,” he pleaded.
Proctor knew this wasn’t like the other time. This time Danno was different. More sure of what he was going to do. Proctor knew for certain that if he didn’t talk fast then his time above the soil was short.
He opened his mouth to speak but Danno pulled the trigger and pumped a single shot straight into his head. Proctor dropped forward and Danno watched the rain torpedo into the pool of blood running from his opened skull.
Danno could feel the air of shock rise from behind him. He could feel it rise from himself. The plan wasn’t for Danno to take the shot. No one in the whole business thought he even had it in him – especially Ricky Plick.
Mickey Jack pushed Proctor’s body onto the plastic with his foot. He wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. The money was great, but Proctor brought him into the wrestling business so he felt a little bad rolling him into the hole.
Ricky put his arm around Danno and steered him away.
“Now I want Curt Magee,” Danno said as he shrugged Ricky off.
Ricky, very quietly and respectfully, pleaded with Danno to come with him. Danno hesitantly dropped the gun and walked back to his car.
“Not a word about this to anyone else. None of the other bosses can know what just happened,” Ricky said to Mickey Jack.
Mickey Jack nodded.
“You took the shot, just like it was planned,” Ricky said to Mickey Jack as he surveyed the area.
Ricky stooped and picked up Danno’s discarded weapon and bundled it tightly in his jacket. He wasn’t happy with how exposed Danno was now. Years of tightly wrapping him and keeping him squeaky clean – all gone.
Mickey walked over to his car, took out a gym bag and handed it to Ricky.
“Is the belt in there?” Ricky asked.
“Yep.”
Ricky could tell by the weight of the bag that the World Heavyweight Title was inside.
Mickey Jack continued his work and began to fill in the hole.
“Can you stay in town for another couple of days? I might need you,” Ricky asked as he walked away. “I’ll know after Mrs. Garland’s funeral tomorrow. Meet me at the same place at six.”
Waiting in New York another day would be no problem to Mickey Jack. The wrestling guys always paid well and most of the time he had to do hardly anything to earn it.
From the car, Danno watched Proctor get bu
ried. His wife was dead and he had just sent his first man to death. He needed to mourn but he couldn’t yet, because he knew there would be more death to come.
CHAPTER TWO
The same night.
Nevada.
The driver was being driven.
Lenny Long sat in the passenger seat of the family car. After driving in shifts for nearly three days straight everyone was a little sharp. And the desert heat, even at night, really wasn’t helping anything. They badly needed a change of scenery. They were in the same tired and bone dry car that escorted them all the way across from Florida.
The same car that escorted Lenny away from the wrestling business.
They only had time to drag all their worldly belongings into their tiny motel room before Bree got the call.
“Where is it?” Luke asked from the backseat. Both he and his toddler brother James Henry were truly sick of traveling and upheaval.
“Around the corner,” Lenny lied.
“Is it?” Bree covertly mouthed.
Lenny shrugged. Vegas wasn’t one of his towns. He had spent the last few years driving Danno Garland and his wife, Annie, wherever they needed to go. Just happened they never needed to go to Vegas.
“Do I make a right?” Bree asked as she anxiously navigated the sign-infested streets.
Lenny noticed the white tan lines of his wife’s missing rings. He swore all the way from Florida that he’d make that better when he got himself settled and made some money.
“Right?” Bree asked again.
“I don’t know about this,” Lenny mumbled away from the children.
“About the right turn?” Bree asked.
“No, the job,” Lenny replied.
Bree tapped the map on Lenny’s lap to get him to focus. She had explained this to her husband a hundred times since she got the call the day before. “I’m just going to be dealing the cards. That’s all.”
“There’s a reason they don’t let women work in these places. Or didn’t until now.”
Bree gripped the steering wheel and talked herself out of another argument. Before they moved their whole lives across the country things hadn’t been great between her and Lenny. His job with Danno meant that he was gone for weeks and sometimes months at a time. It nearly killed their marriage. This big shiny mess of a town was now their clean slate and Bree was doing her best not to dirty it.
“That’s all they’ve asked you to do for now,” Lenny said. “Deal cards, I mean.”
“Just look for The Plaza.”
Lenny snapped the map open in front of his face. “We’re looking for Main Street.”
Bree took a deep breath, “I know that.” She tried to read all the hundreds of signs as they rolled by.
Every now and then Luke would crane his neck and ‘whoa’ at the pomp and cheap splendor of the buildings and their gimmicks. To Luke it looked like the town could have been designed by one of his seven-year-old friends. There were motel signs and restaurant signs and signs for shows and clubs and gas and coffee shops. Red signs, blue signs, round ones and small ones. Signs to tell you that there were signs ahead.
“Turn here,” Lenny mumbled from behind the map.
“Here?”
“Yeah, here.”
Bree began to think that maybe he was pulling them around in circles on purpose. She knew he didn’t want to leave New York. She knew he didn’t want to leave his job. She also knew he’d keep all that to himself.
“We should be coming up between First and Second street,” Lenny said. The nose of their car guided them around the corner and onto a stacked street that presented itself as both beautiful and gaudy. Lights, bright colors, flags and banners. There was a giant cowboy and a huge star perched on the side of a casino. Down the end of the crammed, sparkling street The Union Plaza stood above them all. It was a light, tall and spurious design with a gaping foyer that sucked the road right in.
“Fuck, is that it?” Lenny asked.
“Says so right on top,” Bree excitedly answered as she nodded Lenny’s attention to the big red letters on the roof.
“And they’re hiring ladies?” Lenny asked one last time.
Bree slowed down. “We could just go straight to my folks and stay there, Lenny.”
“I wanna see Granpa,” Luke said from the back.
Lenny shook his head. To him Las Vegas was the lesser of two evils. He may have been out of work, he may have been a near stranger to his kids – but Lenny was still the man of the Long house.
Or at least that’s what he was trying to be.
He’d be damned if his wife would go to her folks looking for a place for them to stay. The motel was fine for now. And even though it made him nauseous – so was Bree’s job.
Lenny put his hand on his wife’s leg. She was beaming as the reflection of the hotel flicked across their windshield. She was happy. Her family were around her, she was getting to earn her own money, and she could work on things with her husband.
For the first time in a couple of years she was starting to think that maybe they could make it as a family.
Ricky didn’t want to make the call. That feeling was familiar to him lately. He felt as though he spent most of his time doing things that were against his nature.
But business was business. And it was his job to protect the wrestling business at all costs.
He had parked outside a dingy bar about 10 miles from where they had left Proctor. It was dark and quiet and still pouring rain.
Ricky stood in the phone booth outside. He dialed and waited for a voice to pick up at the other end.
“Hello?” answered the voice.
“Gilbert?” Ricky asked.
“Who’s this?”
“You know who it is. Where’s Proctor?” Ricky asked.
“Ricky, I told you yesterday and the day before, I don’t know. My mother doesn’t know.”
“Well, he’s obviously jumped ship somewhere. If he couldn’t take being Danno’s champion then he should have been fucking man enough to say it. When you do see him, tell that weasel that I’m stripping him of the belt.”
“ I … ”
Ricky slammed the phone down and tried to manage his own disgust. He had already contacted the few wrestling media outlets that were left and spun the story that Proctor King wasn’t man enough to accept a rematch with Babu.
Danno made the decision that Proctor had to go. Now Ricky had to clean up the fallout of that decision.
Danno went through the routine of getting undressed but to simply lie in an empty bed, after all those years of marriage, was strange and unusual. He wasn’t glad to be home like he usually was. His house held nothing for him anymore.
Downstairs, Ricky was locking the doors and securing the house for the night.
“You okay up there?” Ricky shouted.
Danno didn’t answer.
Ricky listened some more and took the silence to mean he was safe to proceed. He quietly walked into the hall and peered up the stairs to make sure Danno wasn’t there. He then slid his hand into Danno’s jacket and carefully took out a bunch of keys. Ricky removed one of the keys and placed the bunch back where he found them.
In his room Danno sat in silence as he was slowly being introduced to the restrictive frailty of being alone. All the years he worked and schemed to get the big house and the wall full of money meant absolutely nothing. Danno was left an old man, companionless.
In his head he harassed himself about the time he didn’t talk to Annie for nearly a month because of something she said about his mother. He couldn’t remember what. Or what about the time he frightened her after that dinner party? How he let her rot for years on those pills? The time he told her he couldn’t have children?
He thought of Proctor’s head pressed against his gun. The startling whack of noise as he pulled the trigger. It made him sick. All this made him sick. Seeing her laid out on the metal table. Knowing that the killer was still alive.
Danno got up an
d walked quickly to his bathroom where he stooped to vomit in his toilet bowl.
Just a few days ago, Danno was king. He managed to outmaneuver the other bosses to keep his New York territory and to add San Francisco and Florida to his budding empire. It all had to happen with precision. That’s why he felt he had no choice but to agree with his wife when she suggested she go and negotiate for Texas.
Danno was the first boss in their business’ history to move outside his own boundary lines and buy up other territories. That made him a huge threat to the other bosses. When was he coming for their patch? How long until he had the whole business to himself?
Danno thought about his celebration that night and everyone laughing and backslapping each other. He now knew that at the same time his wife was lying dead on the floor of a small, dingy hotel room in Texas.
It made him sick.
The thoughts of having to kill again made him sick. The thoughts of never seeing her again made him sick.
Danno sat on the floor of his bathroom and looked out to their bedroom. Or his room, now. It looked like old people lived there.
He remembered leaning into her cold ear and whispering, “I promise you I’ll make this right before we meet again.”
He couldn’t lift his eyes from the bathroom floor. The only comfort he allowed himself was the fleeting thought that maybe Annie was waiting for him.
There was nothing else of meaning left in his life. And he was old and scared without her. The house was too big all of a sudden, and the noises outside were exhausting. Every couple of minutes he’d have to check a window to make sure there was nothing unusual coming his way.
Danno dragged himself off the bathroom floor and walked back into his room. He laid out his best suit on the end of the bed and checked the single bullet which lay in wait in the chamber of his chosen revolver.
It was a bullet, he knew, that had his name on it.
He slapped the cylinder closed and rested the gun beside his suit. Very soon he would return and dress himself in that suit and use that gun.