Authors: Ira Berkowitz
He turned to Nick.
“Make the garbage disappear.”
Then he turned to his son.
“Looks like graduation day after all.”
T
wo weeks later, Nick showed up at my door.
“Did my brother send you?” I said.
I hadn't spoken to Dave since that morning up in Harlem. Hadn't shown up at Feeney's on the chance that I'd run into him.
“Does it matter?”
“No.”
“Can I come in?”
“No beef with you.”
He sat down at my kitchen table.
“Maybe you're misreading things,” he said.
“I know what I saw.”
“I saw it too. Could've been an accident.”
“The possibility had occurred to me. But then I eighty-sixed it.”
“Why's that?”
“When Anthony couldn't bring himself to kill Ennis, in his screwed-up mind he was letting his father down. But when given a second chance, he stepped up to the plate.”
“I don't know about that. Maybe things just got out of hand, like.”
“You really missed your calling, Nick. Would've made a fortune as a political spinmeister.”
“Ain't spinning nothing. Your brother's not happy at the way things turned out. We both know he never wanted this for his kid.”
“Tough shit! You break it, you bought it. And all the king's horses and all the king's men aren't going to put Anthony back together again.”
“So your brother isn't the greatest parent in the world. He tried tough love, and it bit him in the ass. Does that mean you get to turn your back on him? He is what he is.”
“In my world it does.”
“Then you're as fucked up as he is,” Nick said. “You're all he's got, Steeg. Without you around as a brake, he's headed straight for an abutment.”
“And after all that went down, you expect me to give a damn?”
“Since you were kids, is there anything he wouldn't do for you? Do you know how many times he's saved your ass? How many shellackings he took from Dominic for you, and never said a word?”
“More than a few,” I had to admit.
“And then there was that priest at Most Precious Blood. You were about ten. Made your life hell because
you were smart and asked too many good questions that the guinea fuck couldn't answer.”
“Father Riccio.”
Riccio was the bane of my youth. Had this long, thick dowel. When he wasn't slamming it in the palm of his hand to underscore the moral lesson of the day, he would give me a couple of whacks and then make me kneel on it for an hour or two. Man of true faith.
“And then it stopped, didn't it?”
“I wondered about that.”
“Well, you can stop wondering. Your brother kicked the living shit out him. Told him he'd kill him if he ever laid a hand on you again. And he would've.”
“What do you want from me, Nick?”
“Not what I want. It's what he needs.”
“And what's that?”
He got up and walked to the door.
“He'll be at Feeney's tomorrow at noon. Keep it light.”
“Is Anthony still in the business?”
“Who the hell knows?”
“Last question. What happened to Ennis?”
“See you tomorrow,” Nick said.
T
he next day, at noon, I showed up at Feeney's. Dave and Anthony were sitting in a booth in the back with Sal Lomascio.
Dave lit up when he saw me.
“Look what the cat dragged in, Sallie,” he said. It took everything I had to keep it light.
“Good to see you again, Sal.”
“How's it going, Steeg?” he said.
“Fair to middling,” I said. I turned to my brother and his son. “You two are looking well.”
“Started going to the gym,” Dave said. “Me and Anthony. Teaching him how to box. Maybe one day he'll take me.”
Anthony smiled. “The way it's going, I'll be punch drunk long before that day ever comes.”
All this bonding stuff was giving me a dizzy spell. But I went with it.
“Your uncle Jake could show you a thing or two,” Dave said. “Golden Gloves champ. Middleweight.”
“I fought in the Gloves,” Sal said with a twitch of his mustache. “Never made it past the prelims. I'm impressed, Steeg.”
“Don't be. The guy I was supposed to fight in the finals got busted and didn't show up.”
“Come on,” Dave said. “You're selling yourself short. You could've made it as a pro.”
“Right. I could've been a contender. Come on! Fighting three-rounders and winding up as a tomato can was more like it.”
Anthony got up.
“Be right back,” he said. “Going to the john.”
I waited until he was out of earshot.
“How's he doing?”
“Anthony? Thanks to me, not so hot.”
“Contrition fits you well, Dave.”
He flashed me a lopsided grin.
“Working on it, Jake,” he said. “Are we square?”
“No. Not even close.”
He put his hand over mine.
“But we're talking,” he said. “It's a start.”
Nick wandered over.
“Everything OK here?” he said.
“Hunky-dory,” Dave said.
“That's what I like to hear. There're two broads over at the bar asking about you, Steeg.”
I looked up.
Wanda and Tiffany were in the house.
“Tell them to come over,” I said.
Nick walked over to them.
“You sure do hang with some interesting people, Jake,” Dave said.
“Wanda hooked for Martine. It was her sister who died in the fire at your warehouse. Now it's her turn.”
“What do you mean?”
“Terminal cancer.”
“Life's a lottery. Winners and losers.”
“Which one are we, Dave?”
“Too soon to tell. Still playing the game.”
Wanda looked weaker and more pallid than the last time I had seen her. Just walking to our table was an effort.
I made the introductions.
“You don't have to worry about Martine and Ennis anymore, Wanda,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
I glanced at Dave. “They're not gonna bother you anymore.”
“See, honey,” Tiffany said. “I told you Steeg would take care of it.”
“What happened?” Wanda said.
“All you need to know is they're out of the picture,” Dave said.
“People like them always come back,” Wanda said.
Dave smirked. “Only if they're Christ.”
“Join us for lunch?” I asked.
“Appreciate the offer,” Tiffany said. “But we're on our way. Just dropped by to thank you, and say good-bye.”
“So it's off to Rochester,” I said. “And the house with the white picket fence. I'm really happy for you.”
“Rochester's gonna have to wait a few days. Wanda wants to make a stop in a little town outside Des Moines first.”
“I really would rethink that if I were you, Wanda,” I said.
“No,” she said. “I think Daddy needs to see what's become of his little girl. Mommy, too.”
I thought of what Luce said about decisions that came from the head or the heart. I could give the Klempers a heads-up that Wanda was on the way. But my heart said no. The statute of limitations ran out a long time ago for Jonas and Adele. And since I didn't put much stock in eternal damnation, this was the only way they'd get what was coming to them. Could she pull it off? Given the
shape she was in, I was betting against. But if her want kept her going a little while longer, who was I to argue?
I got up and threw my arms around her.
“You take care now,” I said.
“Iâ”
Her body stiffened. Then sagged against mine.
“What's wrong?”
“My God!” she whispered. “It's him. The man I saw outside the warehouse. The one who looked like Death.”
I turned and saw Anthony walking toward us.
T
o avoid a scene, I hustled Wanda and Tiffany out of Feeney's with assurances that I would handle things.
It turned out to be an empty promise.
“What was that all about?” Anthony said.
“Just some friends. One of them is real sick. Put them in a cab and sent them home.”
“From the look of her it's a wonder she can stay upright,” Dave said.
“Anthony,” I said. “Would you excuse us? I'd like to talk to your father alone.”
“You want me to go too?” Sal said.
“No,” Dave said. “Stay.”
“No problem,” Anthony said. “I'll check in with you later, Pop.”
I waited until Anthony was out the door.
“What's going on, Jake?” Dave said.
“There's a problem.”
“I'm not up for this.”
“I know who burned down your warehouse. Wanda just told me.”
“And that would be?”
“Your son.”
“Get the fuck outta here!”
Expecting a reaction, I looked over at Sal but his face betrayed nothing.
“It's true,” I said.
“Because some two-buck whore said so?”
“Because she was there, and saw him.”
He ran his hand through his hair.
“She saw him?” he repeated.
“Clear view of his face. Scared the hell out her. Said she'd never forget what he looked like.”
“So if Anthony hadn't gone to the john, and the two hookers didn't just happen to stop by, Anthony would have skated. Hell of a coincidence.”
“Or maybe magical forces in the universe interested in balancing the scales.”
He leaned back and the color drained from his face.
“I get indicted,” Dave said. “And almost wind up in the slam for the rest of my life. You go looking for the torch. And it turns out he lives in my own house. Can you beat it?”
“The question is, what are you going to do about it?”
“What do you expect me to do?”
“The fire took a lot of people, Dave.”
“So, what's it to me? Who gives a shit about a couple or three dead street people?”
“You sound like the roaches are crawling over your brainpan again.”
He considered that for a few seconds.
“Fucking kid,” he said. “What was in his head?”
“Want me to play armchair psychiatrist?”
“Your nickel. Give it a go.”
“His way of making you pay for fucking up his family, and his life. You drove his mother away. He loves you and tries to be like you, and all you do is ridicule him. Tell him he's a moron. What the hell do you expect?”
“So we're back to the sins of the father.”
“Looks that way. But let's get back to my question. How're you going to square this thing?”
“That's easy. Give them the torch.”
“W
e got us a problem, Jackson,” Luce said.
For the first time all winter my apartment was toasty warm. I was settling in to an evening of Willie Nelson CDs when she called.
“This hasn't been a great day, Luce.”
“Well, it's about to get worse.”
“How worse?”
“DeeDee's boyfriend Justin was busted. I'll meet you at Midtown North.”
Luce met me in the lobby.
“What happened?” I said.
“He beat up a kid.”
“No way. He reads
Scientific American
to let steam off.”
“Not today. Got into it with some other kid at a basketball court. Someone called the cops. Got him on an assault.”
“What were they fighting about?”
“Wouldn't say. Neither would the other kid. But Justin was doing most of the punching when the cops got there. So he won the lottery and got to wear the bracelets.”
“What's the other kid's name?”
“Matt Gershon. Attends Devereaux Academy.”
“So does Justin.”
“What's the world coming to?” Luce said. “Probably arguing over osmosis or something.”
“Is he all right?”
“Far as I can see.”
“Where is he?”
“In a holding cell.”
When a kid like Justin gets penned in with men who have been through the system several times, he immediately becomes a target.
“Anybody else in there with him?”
“Give me some credit, Jackson,” Luce said. “Had to combine a couple of cells, but he's got an empty one. For now.”
“Does his father know?”
“Doubt it. He refused his courtesy phone call.”
“I assume DeeDee doesn't know either,” I said. “She'd be here if she did. Can I see him?”
T
he first thing that hits you in the holding cell area is the smell. A combination of unwashed bodies, puke, and some other malodorous stuff I couldn't even begin to put a name to. The second thing that hits you is the bleakness.
Justin stood in the corner with his head hanging down. As I approached, he lifted his head and walked up to the bars.
“How're you doing, Justin?” Luce said.
“OK.”
“Want to call your dad?”
He shook his head.
“Fine. I'll leave you two to talk. Jackson, you know where to find me.”
“What's this all about, kiddo?” I said.
He refused to make eye contact.
“Nothing.”
“You keep that attitude up and you're going to take a ride through the system. I'm talking the back of a police van downtown to the holding pens, arraignment, followed by a world of woe. You're going to be with people you truly don't want to spend a minute with. You up for that, son?”
“We were fooling around,” he said. “And things just got out of hand.”
“Things getting out of hand usually means pushing and shouting. Not beating the living shit out of someone.”
“Can I just go home?”
“Only shot is by leveling with me, Justin. Then maybe I can make this go away.”
His chin dropped to his chest.