Small Crimes (12 page)

As
he was getting into his truck, I yelled out to him, asking him what Manny had
on him. He ignored my question. Before driving off he rolled down his window
and gave me a halfhearted wave.

I
sat in my car numb. I don't think I ever felt the level of despair that I felt
right then. Not even after my sentencing. Not even after Elaine had dumped me
and had my divorce papers

delivered
by courier while I sat locked away in jail. 1 felt like I could barely move, as
if all my strength had bled out of me.

The
other day when I left jail I was determined not to cause any more damage in my
life. But that was short lived. In less than a day I put two boys in the
hospital and God knows what I did to Clara Coakley. And now all I could think
about was murder. Because Dan was right, that was the only way out, or at least
the only way out I could see. It had to be Manny or Phil. The problem was I
didn't see any way to get to Manny and I'd already done so much damage to Phil.
The idea of doing any more just made me weaker.

At
that moment, sitting in my car, I don't think I ever felt lower in my life. It
all seemed so pointless. If I had a gun I probably would've used it. And during
that moment of great despair all I could think about was Kelley's; as if they
could offer me some sort of salvation. At least help me get through the next
few hours.

Chapter 9

Kelley's
was in the middle of nowhere, sitting on the edge of Bradley off Route Six. It
was maybe eighty yards from the road and if you didn't know it was there you'd
probably pass by without realizing it. Even if you did see the building you
wouldn't know what it was. And that was the way it was supposed to be. Nothing
about the concrete exterior would give you any idea what went on inside. As
long as they made their monthly payoffs and kept things quiet, the local police
and sheriff s office left them alone. My guess was there were a good number of
people who'd lived in Bradley their whole lives and didn't know Kelley's
existed.

Before
my arrest I used to spend a lot of time at Kelley's. It was a good place to
hang out. Good music, good booze, and an easy source for cocaine. Most nights
I'd just sit and talk to Earl and not even pay attention to what was happening
onstage. All the time I spent there, I never once ventured out of the main club
area. I never went into the back rooms or took any of the girls up on their
offers. I guess back then I was just looking for ways to stay out of the house
and Kelley's was as good as any.

I
ended up driving past its entranceway several times before I found it. It was
dark and it had been a while, but eventually I found the narrow dirt path that
made up its driveway. The parking lot was less than half full, which was slow
for a Saturday night. A biker type guarding the door gave me the once-over as I
made my way in, but didn't say anything. There was no cover charge at Kelley's.
They had plenty of ways to take money off you without needing a cover charge.

I
saw Earl working the bar. Earl owned the place and most nights doubled as
bartender and bouncer. He looked like a lot of bikers I've known - a big
bald-headed guy with a mustache and goatee and thick arms that were decorated
with tattoos. He did a double take when he saw me.

'Holy
shit,' he said. 'Joe, Joe Denton. Howya doin', man? Get over here!'

I
took a seat at the bar and we shook hands. He had added a couple of tattoos to
the side of his neck and a necklace tattoo made up of intertwined serpents that
went around his collarbone. He gave me a big grin.

'Shit,
it's been a long fucking time. You surviving okay on the outside, man?'

I
was going to give him some bullshit answer but I was feeling too low for that.
'It's been rough,' I admitted.

'Yeah,
I hear you.' He gave me a sympathetic nod. Lowering his voice, 'You need
anything? Coke?'

I
hadn't thought about drugs until that moment, but as soon as he mentioned coke
I found myself weakening. A couple of lines Would help clear my head and put me
in a better mood. It scared me to realize how badly I wanted to do some lines
right then. It was a struggle, but I shook my head. Almost as if it were a
dream I heard myself tell him no thanks.

He
seemed somewhat surprised, but nodded. 'Hey, man, you change your mind, let me
know. At least let me buy you a drink. What will you have?'

'Just
a beer,' I said.

'You
got it, buddy.'

He
opened a bottle of imported ale that I used to drink exclusively and handed it
to me, still showing a friendly grin. Bob Seger's 'Her Strut' was blasting out
behind me. I turned around and saw a slender, dark-haired girl onstage naked
except for garter belts and high-heeled shoes. She was moving quickly to the
music, but stopped to squat down so that an overweight slob signaling with a
dollar bill could have a better look. The dollar bill was slipped into one of
her garter belts and she held her position for a few more seconds before moving
off. Vermont's a topless-only state, but the rules for the most part were
ignored at Kelley's.

'We've
got a new crop of girls since you've been here last. That's Cindy on stage.
Man, I tell you, she could hurt you.'

I
looked around the room. There were maybe a dozen guys sitting around the stage
and another ten scattered at tables. I didn't spot anyone I knew. I took a long
drink of my ale and then turned back to Earl. 'You're still playing good
music,' I said.

'Yeah,
what can I tell you? I'm stuck in the early eighties. The girls, man, they're
constantly giving me shit about playing their own music for their sets. Fuck
that. I'm playing what I want to listen to. But for you, any request - just
name it.'

'Seger's
good,' I said. I wouldn't mind listening to some ZZ Top. Creedence. Maybe some
Stones. Dire Straits.'

'You
got it, man.' He gave me a sheepish look. 'Shit, you were gone for a long time.
How'd you spend your time while locked up?'

'I
thought a lot, read a lot, and played a lot of checkers. I just kept trying to
make it to the next day.'

'I
hear you.' He pointed a thumb at my gut. 'Man, I'll tell you, you look like you
got out of jail in great shape.'

'I
did five hundred pushups and two thousand sit-ups every day.'

He
cocked an eyebrow, not quite believing me. 'Five hundred pushups at one time?'

'Five
sets, one hundred pushups and four hundred sit-ups to a set.'

We
both turned and watched the dancer finish her last song. When I turned back to
Earl, I could see his eyes brighten. 'What about those Pats, huh?' he asked.
'Who'd ever thought they'd win a Super Bowl?'

'I
never would've guessed it,' I said.

'You
get to watch the game?'

'Yeah,
the warden loaned me a thirteen-inch black-and-white set. The reception wasn't
too good but I was able to make it out.'

'Man,
that sucks having to watch the game like that. Hey, look, I got the Super Bowl
on tape. I also got a forty-two-inch plasma TV. Anytime, come over to my place
and we'll watch it and have a few beers.'

'Thanks,
I appreciate the offer.' I laughed. 'If I was on the outside I would've lost a
bundle on that game. I never would've picked the Pats to cover.'

'Yeah?
Guess what? I put twenty grand on them to win. I like to think having to pay
off had something to do with that sonofabitch Vassey getting the big C. It's
just too bad his punk kid didn't get it with him.'

He
was still grinning but his eyes dulled and his color dropped a shade, making
the blue-green ink of his tattoos stand out starkly in contrast.

'How's
life been under Junior?'

'Not
good, man. I'm thinking of selling out.' He started drumming his fingers hard
along the bar.

He
lowered his voice and edged closer to me.

'The
old man was bad enough, but that punk kid of his is killing me.'

'Yeah?'

'Shit,
yeah. Vassey was hitting me for fifteen hundred a week. The first thing this
punk kid did when the old man goes into the hospital is bump it to thirty-five.
I can't afford that, not with the police contributions I got to make. This kid
is squeezing me to death. I've been having to take bigger cuts from my girls to
make his payoffs, and they don't like it - I've already lost three of them
because of this.' He leaned even closer to me. 'The last few months I've been
talking with some of my biker buddies. I'm thinking of standing up to that punk.'

He
gave me a weak shrug as he leaned back and lowered his gaze. 'But I'm not sure
I want to go to war right now. Probably better to sell the place and move on.
Of course, that punk is only offering me a tenth of what Kelley's is worth.
I'll tell you, man, my pop would be rolling over in his grave if he saw what
was happening.'

'I'd
stand up to him if I were you,' I said.

'You
would, huh?'

I
took a long drink, finishing off the ale. 'Yeah, I would,' I said. 'I know the
sheriff s office isn't too thrilled with Junior right now. I think they'd back
you up on it. I think there are a lot of people around here who'd like to see
Junior disappear.'

Earl
thought it over, and as he did, he showed me a weak smile. 'Man, you're
probably right. I don't know. I'd probably just end up seeing my place torched
and some of my girls hurt. What sucks is if I sell out to that punk, he'll just
drive Kelley's into the ground. My girls wouldn't stand for him.'

'Maybe
you should try holding out for a while. Things might change.'

'Nothing's
going to fucking change,' he spat out bitterly. 'I'm not the only one he's
squeezing out. That punk's pulling the same shit with a bunch of college clubs.
One of them has already sold out. He now owns the Blue Horn out in Eastfield.
From what I hear he only paid twenty thou for it.'

'That's
probably just Junior bragging.'

'No.'
Earl shook his head, his eyes cold blue steel. 'I heard that straight from the
guy who used to own it. He was lucky he could talk with the way he'd been
worked over.'

'Why
would Junior want to own a college club?'

'Because
he's a greedy fucker. That's all there is to it, man. And it's not just one. As
I was saying, he's squeezing a bunch of them.'

Earl
noticed my bottle was empty and replaced it. I lifted my ale towards him. 'Well,
anyway,' I said,' here's to better days.'

Earl
nodded. I hear you, man.'

We
sat and bullshitted for a while longer before I moved to one of the tables
facing the stage. There was a thin redhead who had taken her T-shirt off and
was dancing topless to Creedence's 'Bad Moon Rising'. As I watched her, I found
my mind wandering. I was too preoccupied wondering what interest Junior had in
college clubs to pay much attention to her. It didn't seem to be in Junior's
character to want to own legitimate businesses. Clubs like the Blue Horn are
nothing more than hangouts for college kids. They'll bring in a band, charge
cover, and sell food and soft drinks. Most of these clubs don't have liquor
licenses. None of them makes much money. It didn't seem to be something that
would be worth Junior's trouble. After a while I decided to give up worrying
about it.

'Bad
Moon Rising' ended and the redhead walked around the stage to let guys slip
dollar bills in her G-string. She had nice green eyes and a sweet smile. She also
didn't look much older than eighteen. Even with her mostly naked, I couldn't
help thinking she seemed more like a high school cheerleader than a stripper.
The DJ announced, 'Susie Q for our own little Susie,' and the Creedence song by
the same name started. The redhead, Susie, slipped off her G-string and started
moving rhythmically to the music. I noticed a ratty-looking guy with a thick
mustache staring at her intently. He had kind of a slight to medium build, but
was wearing a muscle shirt and was trying to puff himself out. Every time
someone would slip a dollar bill under her garter, the muscles along his jaw
would bulge. One guy let his hand linger a little too long on her thigh and
Muscle-shirt started to push himself out of his chair, his body tense and his
eyes filled with violence. The hand was removed, and Muscle-shirt, with what
looked like a great deal of effort, forced himself back down, his eyes still
seething.