In the Red
Page 24
I haven’t heard him say this in a long time. I hold back my tears.
Without hesitation I push through the double doors. It’s a quiet, large dark room. All I can hear is the creaky sound of the rusting swinging from the doors behind.
“Sir, are you here to identify Mr. Stanley Cormick?” asks the tall, pale bald man wearing white scrubs.
“Ya.”
“I’m Bob, the hospital’s mortician.”
Bob walks to door number seven, unlocks the freezer door and pulls out what may be Stan. Strangely, he doesn’t pull out the entire body.
“Come,” says Bob.
I walk slowly to door seven because my legs and feet are heavy with sadness. There is only a blue sheet separating me from the dead body. Without warning the man pulls the sheet back exposing me to Stan’s gray, pale face, eyes sewn shut and missing more than the lower half of his body. The smell and sight fill my throat with vomit. I hurry to the closest trash can and throw up. When I stand up, I don’t expect Bob to be standing next to me offering me paper towels to clean up.
“Well, is it him?” asked Bob, somewhat impatiently.
“Ya, it is, but where the fuck is the rest of him?”
Bob ignores my questions. He walks over to a desk and grabs a clipboard. My patience is gone.
“Where is the rest of him?” I ask again.
Again, Bob doesn’t answer or acknowledge me. I snap, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close to my face. He turns his head to avoid eye contact.
“I’m not gonna ask ya again. Where is the rest of his body?”
“I don’t know… I… I don’t know, he was brought here like this. The story is in the newspaper, over there,” Bob points to the newspaper on the desk.
I loosen my grip on Bob and pull him with me to get the newspaper. Pushing him to sit in the chair I grab the newspaper. Stan’s murder is front page news: THREE MEN FOUND DEAD AT CONSTRUCTION SITE. I read the first paragraph. Stan and two other men were found buried in cement up to their chests.
“Show me the other two bodies,” I demand.
Bob doesn’t ask questions. He nervously grabs the keys and opens freezer doors two and four. I rip the sheets off the bodies before Bob has the chance. I don’t recognize either man, or their names.
I cover Stan’s body carefully with the sheet and close the freezer door. I walk back to the hallway where my father is still sitting. I hand him the news article.
“Dad, who are the two men found with Stan? Come look at them, maybe we can figure out who did this to him.”
My father gets to his feet slowly. For the first time in my life, my father looks every one of his sixty years.
When we return inside the morgue Bob is on the phone. I grab the phone from his hand and put it back on the hook.
“I was calling the detective on your case to see if he can meet with you guys,” Bob explains.
I ignore Bob and bring my father to the men. My father immediately goes pale.
“Fucking stupid cocksucker, motherfuckers,” he yells. He storms out of the morgue. I follow him, and we leave the hospital without even signing the paperwork.
“Who are they?” I ask.
“Don’t worry about it, I will take care of it.”
I fold the newspaper article and stuff it in my coat. Something about all of this is not making sense. When I get a chance, I’m going to look into how these men are connected to Stan and my father. Right now, I just want to mourn my brother in private, but my father has other plans. He instructs me to drive to Top Bar in South Boston to pay a visit to Claire.
“Why are we goin’ to see Claire?” I ask.
“Its obvious Jimmy is involved with Stan’s murder.”
“I’m not following, Dad. Am I missin’ somethin’?”
“Stan and those two men were killed by Jimmy.”
“Jimmy? How do ya know?”
“The bodies were staged in a way only Jimmy would do,” he responds, this time more loudly
I decide it’s best not to pick at the subject any longer.
Top Bar is full of loud, obnoxious Mob members, bikers and local drunks and druggies. This is not exactly the bar to visit if you are looking to have a cold beer and watch the game. This place is full of spilled drinks, fights and half-naked waitresses most old enough to be my mother.
Claire is sitting in a booth with Connor McClean and Jimmy. They’re drinking beer and laughing.
I pull my father aside, “You think this is a good idea, accusin’ Jimmy of murderin’ Stan?”
“Everyone fears Jimmy, not me, so ya, I think I will go ahead with my plan.”
My father’s not in his right mind right now. I feel like I need to do something before he ends up in more trouble than he can get himself out of, but I don’t.
“Claire, can I speak to you in private?” my father asks.
The laughter stops, and everyone at the table gets serious.
“Of course, follow me.” Claire pushes by Jimmy to get out of the booth.
Jimmy smiles sneakily at us but doesn’t speak. If I find out he killed Stan, I’ll kill him myself.
We follow Claire to the back of the bar, into a tiny office. Her usual watchmen are just outside the door.
“Sean, what is the urgency of this meeting?”
“I found out just hours ago that my son Stan was murdered.”
My father hangs his head low as if to hide the tears. Hearing my father say it out loud makes it a reality. My brother is gone.
Claire stands up and hugs my father and then hugs me. It seemed genuine enough.
She sits down, lighting a cigarette.
“It was not ordered by me, I can assure you,” she replies, exhaling smoke.
“I know, but I also know who is responsible, and it’s someone very close to you.”
“I see, and why should I get involved with this person close to me and your matters?”
My father turns around as if to walk out of the office.
“Have I not done you enough favors, have I not given so much to you and your members?” he yells.
The door flings open; it’s Claire’s watchmen trying to squeeze their way into the office.
“Boys, I’m okay, please stay outside,” she orders.
“Cormick, sit down and relax. You don’t know the trouble we are facing. I can’t pile anymore onto my plate, it’s full and I still haven’t even had dessert. I don’t mean to disregard your pain, but I’m limited in my involvement and I can’t get into the reasons with someone other than my members.”
I very seldom hear anyone call my father “Cormick”, only his older associates.
“My son’s a member, doesn’t he deserve your time and ear to just listen to what he is going through losing his brother?”
She motions him to continue.
“I think Stan’s murder is somehow connected to Ava, and that’s why Jimmy killed him and those two men.”
Claire doesn’t show a flicker of emotion.
“Ava is not who you think she is. I have information that proves Ava was skimming the Atlantic accounts under Susan’s watch. How the FBI hasn’t discovered this is astonishing. There’s more; I haven’t gotten to the part you will find most interesting. Ava is Jimmy’s daughter.”
It’s disturbing to see my father look so excited to spill the news about Ava and Jimmy. It’s as if he is expecting a gift after giving her this information.
My father continues, “I am not here to avenge Jimmy. I am here to save my only surviving son. I am begging you to not go back on your word you gave Johnny. You told him he wouldn’t get any heat from the Atlantic job. Susan oversaw everything, and Johnny always did what Susan asked of him. Johnny has a baby on the way, and I just have a feeling Jimmy won’t let his daughter serve time.”
“Johnny, how old is Ava?”
I wasn’t expecting that question.
“Um … maybe 23 or 24, I’m not sure, but her birthday is in January or February.”
Claire turns away as if to hide her expression. “I never knew of Jimmy having a child and was curious what year this all happened. Cormick, I’m meeting with my lawyers in a few days. I will make sure the plan is still in place as we discussed. As for Jimmy possibly being Stan’s killer, I will try to get more information.”
“Please don’t bother, I want to bury my boy and digging for answers will only bring more truth and pain. Leave it alone. But as for Ava, you might want to take a closer look at how much money she stole, you know, for the trial.”
Claire hugs us both goodbye.
I’m shocked to hear Ava stole from Atlantic. Again, I have misjudged her character. It’s as if I don’t know the true Ava. She stole directly from the mouths of the Mafia, not the Mob. How didn’t I know? My father seems to know more about Ava than I do. I got a bad feeling my father has some guilt about Stan’s death.
JIMMY
CHAPTER 35
The Talk
Johnny and his dirtbag father walk by the booth with their tails between their legs. Like father, like son, both cowards. They’re lucky I didn’t go to their house, fuck his mother and shoot them both in the head.
“I saw Ava today at the station,” Connor says.
“And she didn’t bother getting in touch with her father,” I reply.
“We should leave to pay a visit,” the Indian adds.
Claire squeezes into the booth across from me and next to Connor. I throw back the rest of my drink because the look on Claire’s face tell me she wants to talk immediately. Fucking snitch, Johnny’s father.
“What?” I ask before she speaks.
“You want to explain why you killed Stan and those men?”
“No, I do not,” I pout.
“You work for me and you will hit who I say you hit; you can’t just pick who you want.”
“This was a personal matter.”
“Personal, like, Ava being your daughter,” she spits.
“And, so she’s my daughter, what does that have to do with you, Claire?”
Claire never wanted Ava, and I chose to go against her orders to kill Ava as a baby. As soon as she found out her father and brothers’ plane went down and she was next up to control the Irish, she had no interest in Ava. I hid my daughter from her for fear she would kill her and have me killed. I’m tired of hiding this secret and I’m ready to have the weight taken off my shoulders.
“Do you really want to have this discussion now, in front of the Indian and Connor?”
“I don’t give a shit who hears me. You let me believe that my daughter was dead all these years. You could’ve told me the truth, even after I cried so many nights on your shoulder about my baby. I don’t give a fuck who hears me. You have no heart,” she says, now crying into her hands.
I have never seen Claire so upset and in front of others. The bar is reaching full silence and all eyes are on us.
“You told me to get rid of her and left me in Ireland,” I yell back.
“I went back to find you hours later, and you were nowhere to be found; I changed my mind.”
“You fucking liar, liar … you are a liar,” I scream.
The Indian puts his arm on my shoulder to calm me and keep me from grabbing that bitch by her throat.
“I’ve spent years feeling guilt and you let me. Who raised our daughter?”
“Mary Madden, a girl that I went to high school with. She did a great job, until she was murdered by her boyfriend, Lewis Lorcan.”
Claire stopped crying and looked for me to keep talking.
“I think I will give you all some privacy,” Connor says awkwardly.
Claire lets Connor slip by her out of the booth.
The Indian takes the hint and follows Connor.
I’m left sitting across from a vulnerable Claire. The music is turned back up and people at the bar are back to being loud and obnoxious.
I grab Claire’s hand and rub it.
“I’m sorry I kept this from you, but I was scared you would hurt her or me.”
She doesn’t speak or look at me.
“I love Ava and I want the best-case scenario for her. For the first three years of her life I was a part-time father, but one dangerous incident made me realize me being close to her made her my enemy’s target. That’s when I watched her from a distance and Mary sent me videos, photos, drawings from our daughter and letters telling me stories of her milestones. I have them all, I can show you. Lewis was a great stepfather, and when I felt like she was in good hands, I offered to assist our member in upstate Maine, during the drug smuggling expansion. The distance helped with the pain. Boston just kept reminding me that I was not a good father.”
“When I met Ava, she reminded me of someone, and now it makes complete sense.”
“She does look a lot like you but has my beautiful eyes.”
“Okay, you old bastard, I don’t think so.”
“I hope you can forgive me someday.”
In translation, don’t have me murdered. Especially since I’m the next up to control the Irish if she dies, but only because I’m the father of her child. The Irish changed the rule when shortly after I found out she was pregnant with Ava. Claire being the only remaining Spillane; The only chance she could keep the Spillane name going is through me and then Ava or whoever doesn’t die first. There is a clause in the rule. If Claire were to get married, her husband would take my place. If I know Claire, she will get married just to spite me.
“Does Ava know I’m her mother?”
“Nope, I always planned I would leave it up to you, if you found out. I will keep my word.”
“Why did you kill Stan?”
“Cormick hired those men who tried to kill Ava by drowning her in Boston Harbor. I didn’t know Stan was his son, or I swear to you I would have let him live. Stan was never my target; he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not to mention he tried to kill me. I see why Cormick left that detail out – because Johnny was with him. Johnny is deeply in love with Ava. That’s not all; the first attempt to have her murdered was when Atlantic hired a hitman to kill her, but the Indian and the White Man saved her.”
“How did she happen to come work for Atlantic?”
This I can’t explain. I don’t know.
“I’m not sure,” I reply. I’m not lying. I really don’t know.
“Doesn’t make any sense to me,” Claire says.
“So, what happens now? You can’t possibly continue to push to get Susan out over putting your own daughter in jail.”
Her response is too slow which means she’s considering sticking with the plan.
“I’m not sure until I meet with my lawyers. Anyway, how do I know she’s really my daughter?”
“We could always do a DNA test.”
“And what will the members think of me, of all of this? I need more time to think about all this. For now, I’m going home to get some rest.”
“I love you, Claire, and whatever decision you make, I will support it.”
I lie right to her old, shriveled face. All her tears are an act. I never told her anything all those years because she’s evil. I see this side in Ava and it frightens me that she could easily be just like her mother.
AVA
CHAPTER 36
TRIAL
Finally, the call comes I’ve been waiting for.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Ava, it’s Waylon.”
“What’s the news?” I ask impatientl
y.
“You got everything you asked for, no jail time. However, the Dillon’s are demanding you meet with Claire today.”
“Oh really. Did they say what for?”
“I reckon there’s some unfinished business regarding the funds. They didn’t say much, but my guess is something about the financial statements. I advise you go to the meet somewhere public, just to be safe. I wouldn’t trust those potato eaters. Well, let me end this call before I must send you another bill you can’t afford. I wish you the best, young lady.”
“Thank you, Waylon. I really—”
He hangs up before I can express my gratitude.
Sure, it’s good news I won’t face any jail time, but even without the jail bars, I’ll forever feel imprisoned with fear of being killed by the Mob. Something will need to be done about this.
I take a drive I haven’t done in a while, to Walpole prison to visit Lewis. We have some serious unfinished business to discuss. I hated him for killing my mother, but the more I read into the trial, which Paul hacked a copy of, the more I still don’t believe he killed her. Paul agrees with me and even wants to run new DNA tests. We could get him out of prison.
I get to the jail, parking my rental car as far from the entrance as possible to use the distance to walk off my anxiety. It’s difficult to contain my emotions; I’ve lived with anxiety and depression since I was a child. My mother and Lewis were the only two who could console me during my nightly attacks.
I take off my jewelry, grab my ID, light a cigarette and head to the entrance. As soon as you walk through the doors, the life is sucked out of your body. The guards are sour faced, angry, matching the cold, gray concrete atmosphere. After signing in, they usher me into a room with tables and stools bolted to the cement where we wait for the guards to bring in the prisoners. In the waiting room are single mothers there with their children, the elderly and several pregnant women waiting to be single mothers.
The guards yell and the doors open. I stand up from being too nervous. Lewis has tattoos all over his neck and face. He looks like a white supremacist now he’s shaved his head.