Chop Shop

by Andrew Post

  Ted didn’t mention his wife had returned from her business trip – and having met her, he doubted Nadine would drive a monstrosity like that. Frank wasn’t sure what Ted would prefer in this situation so he remained in the Lexus and dialed Ted from the curb.

  “I’m outside,” Frank said.

  Ted peeked out the front window, holding his phone to his ear. Frank watched Ted’s mouth move and then, on delay, heard him say, “Come on in, I’m just wrapping some shit up with another client.”

  Frank watched the curtain fall back. And he heard, as he held the phone to his ear, about to hang up, Ted say, muted, “Naw, it’s just this dude I sell supplies to. He doesn’t know this side of it. Don’t be a dumbass and let nothing slip, though, okay? You’re just another back alley surgeon like him, far as he needs to be concerned.”

  He hadn’t hung up. Frank wondered how long he could sit in the car listening, with Ted’s phone still on the call in his pocket, before he noticed Frank hadn’t come inside like he’d asked. Frank hung up, unsure what more he wanted to hear. He just knew whoever he was about to meet wasn’t going to be what they introduced themselves as.

  Ted’s twins, Chiffon and Darryl, were playing on the front porch pushing toy cars around on a square of carpet made to look like a town with little streets and houses and schools and churches. “Hi, Mister Goode,” they said together. “Daddy’s inside.”

  “Thanks, kiddos,” Frank said and let himself in. There was a slight whiff of marijuana slithering through the house. Frank didn’t see anyone in the living room or the kitchen straight ahead, and moved to the open windows over the sink giving a view of the backyard. Out back, by the gate leading to the alley behind the property, standing by the swing set, was Ted and some young white guy with his sandy-colored hair in cornrows, drowning in a white T-shirt multiple times too big for him, and a pair of low-slung jeans. When Ted brought him over to Frank, the kid – maybe thirty at the oldest – smiled a mouth full of metal at him. It was incredibly distracting.

  “’Sup, dude, I’m also a sawbones,” the kid said, throwing out his hand.

  Frank took it, shook it, and gave the kid a hard squeeze. “Frank Goode.”

  “Shawn Klegg. Everybody calls me Slug. Good handshake on you, man.”

  They released hands. “How long have you known Ted here?”

  “A while,” the kid said, flat. “Say, how’s bidness on your block? Heard shit’s gotten kinda rocky for your ass lately.”

  “Where’d you go to school?” Frank said. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “You know, up north. Medical school up north. Did all four years.”

  “Four?”

  “Right, I was just talking pre-med. The stuff before the real shit. I didn’t want to toot my own horn. But I did all those years, man. So much reading, right?”

  “Up north. So Duluth, then?”

  “Naw, naw, up in Canada. Up there somewhere, near Montreal.”

  Frank noticed Ted was giving him the stink-eye – as much as he could, with Ted’s eyes both glassy and bloodshot. The smell of marijuana was stronger here, hanging heavy on the warm afternoon air.

  “So,” Ted said, having a seat on the rim of his raised flower bed, “what brings you out here, Frank? Said you had a bit of a pickle you’re needing help with. Let’s hear it.”

  Frank glanced over at this kid Shawn before meeting eyes with Ted again.

  “He’s cool,” Ted said.

  “Yeah, man,” Slug said. “I’m in the know. Heard you went by my bitches’ crib last night to do a drop-off.” Slug sat next to Ted. “You ought be thanking my ass, dude. I brought them into the network myself. You wouldn’t have had a place to take your shit otherwise.”

  Frank waited until Slug was done making noises and looked at Ted. “I can’t handle this kid, man.”

  “Beat it, Slug. I’ll call you later,” Ted said, standing.

  “But we wasn’t finished discussing the trip.”

  “We’ll talk it over later. I need to talk to my buddy here.”

  “But I’m your buddy, Teddy Bear.”

  Ted raised one arm – and pointed toward the front gate. “Go, Slug. Before I get pissed.”

  “Aight, aight, damn,” Slug said and waddled off, pants nearly around his knees. Frank waited until he heard the rumble of the Coupe de Ville start, and fade, before saying anything else to Ted.

  “Who’s the trailer trash?”

  “An associate. Just because you and I are friends doesn’t mean you gotta know everything, Frank. I keep all this secret from my wife. Do you expect to get to know more than she does?”

  Frank nodded down to Ted’s hip pocket. “You might want to end that call before you run up the bill.”

  Ted took out his phone, cursed, and hit the red button to end the call. “All right. How much did you hear?”

  “That I was not to know who or what ‘Slug’ actually is to you.”

  “You met him. He runs his mouth. There’s some shit that we have on the back burner right now that doesn’t need to be brought to the front – or have anyone even know there is a back burner. Speaking of which, if you have any trouble starting Monday of next week you’re gonna have to figure it out yourself. I have a trip coming up. Which means Nadine will be here with the twins – and she is not to be bothered about where I am or what I’m up to. Understand?”

  “Fine, whatever, I’ll keep my distance. I need your help with something, right now, though. Or are you too busy?”

  “Don’t get like that. Don’t be a clingy ex-girlfriend, Frank.” Ted lit a cigarette. “What’re you at my home for? Speak.”

  “I don’t think those girls know what they’re doing.”

  “Of course they don’t. They’re brand new to the network, man. But Rhino says he’s walking them through it, nice and easy.”

  “Who is Rhino, anyway? The one girl mentioned that name, asked me if I’m Rhino.”

  “Rhino’s just Rhino,” Ted said. “He is an associate of mine, a distant associate of yours, and a friend thrice removed of Slug’s, through me. And Rhino was happy to arrange it that you could drop off what you had to drop off at Slug’s friend’s place. If I had his address, I’d give it to you so you could send him a thank-you card. He really saved your ass and he don’t usually trust new recruits that quick neither, so consider yourself one lucky duck.” He paused. “I assume since you were able to drive your ass over here that means the Petroskys are still in the dark?”

  “For now. They’re coming by my house tonight.”

  “What for? Did you tell them Vasily wandered off?”

  “I did but I don’t think they buy it.”

  “You saved his life. Why would you turn around and kill him? Speaking on what they should be thinking here, I mean.”

  “It’s hard to explain but if you’d been there you would’ve seen it: they suspect something. The old lady, Tasha, not so much. Or maybe she does. She’s unreadable. It’s like looking at a wall with her. But Bryce, the little moron, seems convinced I had something to do with it – he just can’t prove it yet and isn’t willing to act prematurely on any theories. That, more likely, his aunt has him on a short leash. Saw it in his face he wanted to kill me right then and there.”

  “You thinking about running, then?”

  “Can’t. They did their homework on me. They know where Rachel lives, where Jessica works, where she goes to school, everything.”

  “Ah, fuck all that worry-wart shit,” Ted said, waving a dismissive hand at him. “If you’re on Facebook and left your shit public then you’ve volunteered all that shit to be known. They’re just trying to freak your ass out.”

  “But I’m not on Facebook,” Frank said.

  “I bet your kid is. Or your ex. Or both of them. Practically every chick I know’s on there. Nadine, all her sisters and all her
friends from college and grammar school and shit, all her aunties. It’s like if you wanna know what a bitch do or say, just punch in her name and click on the selfie they put on there that looks like them and boom, you got they whole fucking life – even when they ‘checking in’ at a place where they eat, after taking a goddamn picture of it, of course. Like anybody fucking cares. Anyway, now, far as your case goes, if the Petroskys had suspected you were up to anything nefarious they would’ve said it when they dropped in on you. Gangs do the same shit as cops, they won’t out-and-out accuse you of shit because it’s much more advantageous to them if you spill the beans your own damn self. Kind of like Slug only maintaining that guise I told him to take on for approximately twelve seconds. Anyway, you say they is swinging back to your place tonight to try it again. That being the case, if they’d known shit they would’ve done shit – definitely by now. And they wouldn’t have penciled in a visit, give you any lead-time. They would’ve found you and done you without announcing one word preceding the fact.”

  “Oh, but it gets even better,” Frank said. “Today, at work, none other than Big Robbie comes walking in, wanting to put me on a retainer because – get this – fucking Simone told him I killed Vasily. And Robbie’s all giddy about it, having another Russian-killer in his Rolodex, and I’m saying not to spread that shit around because if it gets back to Tasha and Bryce that Vasily is dead then I’m dead too.”

  “But fucking Italians talk,” Ted said. “A lot.”

  “I know. So, there’s that.”

  “Ain’t no hushing up the grapevine, brother man.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “Just saying. So what do you want me to do about it?”

  The gate screeched open across the yard, nearly giving Frank a heart attack. But it was only Chiffon and Darryl running over to Ted, asking if he could put the wheel back on their ambulance. Chiffon explained to Frank as Ted did the repairs, “People who are hurt need to get where they can get help so they can be happy again. Right now there’s a lot of sad people in the city and none of them know who to call because the ambulance man’s wheel fell off.”

  “I see,” Frank said.

  “Here you go,” Ted said as the twins raced off with the mended ambulance. “You two need to get inside soon and wash up for dinner.”

  “Okay!” came in stereo.

  Ted turned back to Frank, his fatherly voice dropping away. “I get the impression you didn’t come here to just give me the ‘last time on Frank Goode’s fucked-up life’ update, did you?”

  Frank shook his head. “Any ideas?”

  “Well, I assume you didn’t just tell Big Robbie the truth about who killed Vasily because that’d erase the clout you have with the Pescatellis, right?”

  “Yeah. That and if his niece says I’m lying, I’m guessing Robbie will be inclined to take her word over mine. And making the guy who’s pleased with believing you killed somebody suddenly doubt who did it and why…that can’t lead anywhere but straight to disaster. It’s safe this way, as things are. He likes me. The Petroskys don’t. No reason to piss everybody off at once.”

  “You should get in contact with that crazy bitch and see what she thinks she can do.”

  “Simone? No. I don’t want anything more to do with her.”

  “Let’s hold on a second, man. I don’t think you’re telling me this straight.” Ted thumbed his chin and squinted at Frank. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you’re trying to finagle something here. You’re trying to weasel them, aren’t you? Get them to run against each other?”

  “I wasn’t planning it but it’s just sort of happening that way. All I know is I can’t keep having them visiting me because eventually they’re going to end up meeting on the sidewalk.”

  “Sure, I get that, but there’s something you’re not saying here. So, come on, share with your boy. Tell me what you’ve got on your back burner.”

  “Fine. I stand to benefit by keeping this balancing act going.”

  “But how? I’m lost, go back.”

  “Number one. Big Robbie thinks I killed Vasily. He wants to put me on a retainer of a hundred thousand a month even on months I don’t lift a finger to patch anybody. I can still practice helping anyone I want who’s unaffiliated with any crime body, which is extra money and I’m not just sitting around all day waiting. Number two. Tasha Petrosky is willing to pay me up to sixty thousand dollars for saving her nephew’s life. If I can convince her – and Bryce – that Vasily walked out of my house on his own, I can get that money.”

  “Which means producing some proof of life – which is gonna be tough, obviously. Plus you know they’re never gonna stop looking for him.”

  “Right,” Frank said, “which brings us to the matter of the body itself. I don’t trust those girls to have done a good job, Ted. They also visited me at work today—”

  “You need to find a new fucking job, man. Sounds like everybody knows where Frank Goode is five days a week.”

  “Not anymore. I got fired. Which, when I go in to check with my parole officer for my quarterly update, might be tough to explain. So if you know of any legal gigs, let me know. Anyway, the girls came up – in their fucking hearse no less – and said they’re going to pay me for the body even after I was under the assumption I was paying them to get rid of it. But they won’t have any money until they get paid, which somehow, I don’t know why, sounded like they were going to be using Vasily’s body to do so. Not that I care. I just want it gone – completely gone.”

  “They are gonna use it to make money,” Ted said, “from Rhino. They don’t get rid of the bodies at the funeral home, they part them up and sell them on the red market.”

  “Bullshit,” Frank said. “That’s just an urban legend, like that fucking guy who wakes up in a bathtub full of ice with his kidney gone.”

  “That one’s bullshit, yes, because they don’t bother keeping people alive – the ones that do business like that, which is not me, for the record. I work with people who get their stuff off the dead, people who died naturally or in car accidents and shit. We benefit from murder but we don’t keep murder in our toolbox. Them’s Rhino’s rules and I tend to agree that’s for the best. It’s clean. Well, cleaner.”

  “And that’s what Rhino is, the boss of all this?”

  “He ain’t the boss, but he’s high up. He sets up ‘funnels’ – as in he probes a city’s mid-level dealers and convinces them to hang up slinging to find people who can get him bodies. Then once they get him said bodies, he moves the bodies wherever they go, to quacks like you who do transplants and shit, and then he packs up and moves to a new town and does it all over again. Cool dude, despite what you might think given his type of work.”

  Frank had his arm partway up, pointing the way Slug had gone when he’d left. “Is that kid Snail part of this?”

  “Slug. And yes, Slug was one of those dealers Rhino transmogrified into a red market ‘sourcer’ as they’re called. Slug pegged your hearse girls to start as his sub-sourcer and your Vasily was their very first ‘strip’, to throw yet another industry term at you. If and when you talk to them again, it’d be in your interest not to mention who that body belonged to. Keeping a buffer between the layers can’t not be smart. Otherwise someone might try to take advantage and ask you how much it’s worth to you this body disappears, blah, blah, blah, and then that tends to spread and fucks things up for everybody up and down the line.”

  “Holy shit, Ted,” Frank said, “I thought you just sold medical tubing and gauze out of your garage.”

  “What you and I do is just but one string in the quilt, Frank. There is a lot of layers, a lot of players, and a lot of money flying every damn which way. Thus,” he knitted his fingers together, “the network.”

  “Does that mean I’m a part of this now, now that you’ve told me all this?”

  “I gave you no name
s or addresses, so no. I gave you a peek, that’s all. Shit, I hardly know anything – most of what I just said might be bullshit somebody told me and bullshit somebody told them. There may not even be a Rhino. Might be a buncha Japanese chicks on laptops all crowded in a basement somewhere for all I know and they just hired some brother to sound all intimidating on the phone to do the deals.”

  Frank checked the time on his phone. “I should get back. I don’t know when they’ll be there.”

  “You got a story ready? Because I was gonna say, you could tell them Vasily called you to say he’s hiding and that he was afraid to call anybody else thinking he was being listened in on and—”

  “Don’t mean to cut you off, but that’s no good,” Frank said. “They found his phone at my place and broke it.”

  “They broke his phone?”

  “Is that bad? I thought that was kind of strange.”

  “They know he’s dead. They just need proof now. That’s what that means.”

  “Fuck. You really think so?”

  Ted nodded. “You should run. I got a guy who can get you a passport.”

  “No. I can handle this. I can come up with something and send them back out looking for Vasily again. After that, I can tell Big Robbie everything – well, not everything – and maybe get him to do something. And even if they were trying to scare me saying they know Rachel and Jessica, that doesn’t mean they won’t use that knowledge. I can’t risk them.”

  Ted was shaking his head. “You’re playing with fire with this shit, man. If I were you and I knew me, I’d be asking me for that passport I just offered. I’m going out of town and I’m going off the grid, like, totally off the grid. So if you want something, you best say something now – because I know I’m your only contact to shit like this.”

  “I have to get back to the house.”

  “You’re asking for it, man. I’m telling you. Those hearse girls are gonna be cutting up another body and I’m sure they’ll recognize this new one.”

  Frank started back across the yard. “Call me when you’re back in town.”