The Friends of Eddie Coyle (18 page)

Webber turned around in the kitchen and tried to smile behind the nylon mask. “Okay?” he whispered.

In the yard behind the house and garage, Ernie Sauter rested the butt of the Winchester twelve-gauge on his hip and waved toward the bushes behind the house. Deke Ferris, bent over, ran toward the garage. He carried a Thompson submachinegun. Sauter looked toward the second story of the house. At the edge of the window overlooking the back door, Sauter saw Tommy Damon. Sauter raised his hand, palm upward. Damon’s face disappeared from the window.

In the kitchen, Scalisi padded cautiously toward the door at the other end. It had a glass plate at waist level on the frame. He put his gloved hand on the plate and pushed. The door swung away silently. Scalisi looked into the hall. He let the door come back slowly. He turned to face Valantropo and Webber. He held his thumb up.

Valantropo was near the kitchen table. When Scalisi signaled, Valantropo pulled one of the chairs up and put it quietly down again. He put his revolver on the table. He sat down.

Scalisi came back to the table. He picked up a chair quietly and sat down. He rested his forearms on his thighs, the revolver held loosely in his right hand.

Webber eased his body past Valantropo. He put his revolver on the table. He lifted a chair silently and sat down. He whispered: “What’s the timing?”

Scalisi said: “The old guy gets up first and comes down here, from what I could see. I don’t know when the old lady comes down. We got to wait and see.”

On the floor above they heard footsteps. They listened intently. More than one person was walking. “Beautiful,” Webber
said, “Mummy and Daddy coming down together.” They listened to the steps on the stairs. They picked up their revolvers. They were all facing the door to the hall when Ferris and Sauter came into the kitchen from the back entryway. As they turned toward the sound, Damon and Rufus Billings came through the hall door with shotguns pointed directly at them. Sauter said: “April fool, motherfuckers.” For what seemed like a long time no one moved, and then the three men in masks put their guns carefully on the table.

Eddie Coyle had overslept. When he awoke it was nearly nine. He hurried through his shower and shave. He went into the hall and out into his kitchen in an ugly mood. His wife was watching television and drinking coffee. “Why the hell didn’t you wake me up?” he said.

She did not take her eyes off the screen. “Look,” she said. “Yesterday I got you up and you give me hell for not letting you sleep. Today I let you sleep and I get hell for not waking you up. What’s the matter, you wanta get an early start on the day’s loafing?”

“I got things to do today,” he said. He poured some coffee. “Look, I got to make some calls.”

His wife sighed. She began slowly to get up from the couch. “I know, I know,” she said, “go upstairs while I make some calls. Sometimes I think I must be married to the President or
something. What’s so secret I can’t hear what you’re saying? I thought I was married to you.”

Eddie Coyle said nothing while his wife left the kitchen. In a while he could hear the shower running. He picked up the telephone.

“This is Eddie,” he said, when Foley came on the line. “Look, I gotta talk to you.”

“So talk,” Foley said. “I’m listening.”

“You gotta do something,” Coyle said. “I want you to do something for me, all right?”

“First I want to hear what it is,” Foley said. “Then I want to know why. You got this problem remembering what’s in the deal and what isn’t, I seem to recall.”

“Look,” Coyle said, “never mind that shit. I want you to call New Hampshire and ask him, would it be enough if I was to give you the guys that’re robbing the banks, there?”

“What guys,” Foley said, “what banks?”

“You know what guys and you know what banks,” Coyle said. “I’m not saying I’m gonna do it, now, you understand. I just wanta know, would that do it if I did?”

“Suppose it will,” Foley said. “Are you gonna do it?”

“I dunno,” Coyle said. He held up his left hand and studied it. “I can think of safer things to do. I dunno. I just want to know, what happens if I decide to, does that get me off the hook.”

“Look,” Foley said, “I’ll ask him. That’s all I can do.”

“All right,” Coyle said. “Can you talk to him by noon?”

“I think so,” Foley said. “I should have something for you by then, yeah.”

“Okay,” Coyle said. “Now, where can I meet you?”

“Whyn’t you call me?” Foley said. “I’ll be right here.”

“No,” Coyle said. “I wanta see you, make sure I know everything that’s going on.”

“Okay,” Foley said. “You know over in Cambridge there, in Central Square? You know that area at all?”

“I should,” Coyle said, “I grew up there.”

“Okay,” Foley said. “There’s a Rexall there, right at the big intersection. You know the place I mean?”

“Yeah,” Coyle said.

“I’ll be in that drugstore at noon,” Foley said.

“I may not be there,” Coyle said.

“I’ll be there until twelve-thirty,” Foley said. “I can’t wait any longer’n that, I got to see a man this afternoon.”

“That’s okay,” Coyle said. “If I’m gonna be there, I’ll be there by then. If I’m not, you can assume I decided no.”

Dillon found the silver Continental with the black vinyl roof in the parking lot at Columbia Station in Dorchester. There was a man in the driver’s seat. Dillon opened the passenger’s door and got in.

“Sorry to get you up,” the man said. He was overweight. He wore sunglasses. He had olive skin and he wore a dark blue suit. He was smoking a cigarette.

“No problem,” Dillon said. “I work nights, you know? I don’t generally get up until around noon.”

“This is kind of an emergency,” the man said. “I was wondering if you might be able to handle something for us.”

“More’n likely,” Dillon said. “Depends, I suppose. But more’n likely.”

“This is pretty important,” the man said. “That’s why I got in touch with you. He told me, he told me I was to get somebody
we were sure of, that we could really trust, you know? The kid was pretty close to him, is why we’re moving so fast.”

“You’re getting ahead of me,” Dillon said. “Who’s the kid?”

“Donnie Goodweather,” the man said. “You gotta know him. The man treated him like he was his son. Which some people say he was.”

“I never heard of him,” Dillon said.

“Well, you’re gonna,” the man said. “They got him this morning up in Lynn, there.”

“Who did?” Dillon said. “Hey, I hate to sound stupid, and you know me, the man wants it done, I’m here to do it.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” the man said. “There was some talk around, maybe you were thinking about some grand jury thing or something. I’m really glad to hear you say that. The man’ll be pleased, too.”

“So what the hell is going on,” Dillon said.

“State police,” the man said. “Seems Donnie was sitting outside the Colony Cooperative this morning like he was waiting for somebody, and instead of the people he was expecting to show up, some cops with masks and jackets on show up, and he gets out of his car, he’s got a mask on too, and a gun, and they tell him he’s under arrest, I suppose, and the next thing you know, there’s some shooting. He was dead on arrival. The man’s very upset.”

“Somebody else have a problem?” Dillon said.

“Jimmy Scal and Artie Valantropo and Fritzie Webber,” the man said. “They all got bagged in a house up in Nahant this morning. Belongs to this guy that’s the treasurer of the Colony Cooperative from what I hear. Jimmy and Artie and Fritzie went in, and Donnie’s waiting down at the bank. So the three of them
go in, and the place’s crawling with cops. Then the cops take the jackets off Artie Van and Jimmy and the masks, and they go down to the bank with this other cop in the car with them, looking scared, I guess, and they get down there. The cops get out of their car, and with the masks on, of course, you know it’s hard to tell, and Donnie gets out of his car, the way I hear it, I was getting all this from Paulie LeDuc, who is Scal’s lawyer, he called right up as soon as he talked to Jimmy up there. So anyway, Donnie gets out of the car and the cops say: ‘Get’em up, you’re under arrest.’ Well, he’s just a kid, and he always hadda pair of rocks on him, the man, I think if he wasn’t the man’s son the way they say, it’s probably because of his guts the man liked him, and the kid starts shooting. They chewed him up pretty good.”

“Oh oh,” Dillon said.

“Oh oh is right,” the man said. “The three of them’re up on murder one, they’re gonna be having a hearing this afternoon, and of course they’re gonna get held for the grand jury. The man is hopping goddamned mad.”

“I don’t blame him,” Dillon said.

“Well, I don’t blame him either,” the man said.

“I blame Jimmy Scal, though,” Dillon said. “It’s his own goddamned fault as far as I’m concerned.”

“How you figure?” the man said.

“I warned him,” Dillon said. “Picked up something the other day, this guy we both know, me and the Scal, he’s coming up for sentencing pretty soon, and it’s almost a mandatory, you know? But this guy don’t act like he thinks he’s gonna go to jail, which makes me very nervous, you know? Why’s he so confident, maybe he’s thinking about dumping somebody? So I called Jimmy, I told
him. I said: ‘You better hang back a few days, you got anything going. I don’t like the way this thing smells.’ But he wouldn’t listen, oh no. Just goes right ahead.”

“This guy,” the man said, “anybody we know?”

“Could be,” Dillon said. “We hadda break him up a while back here. He set up Billy Wallace there with a gun that had a history. We hadda teach him. I thought he learned his lesson. I threw a little work his way myself now and then.”

“Name of Coyle?” the man said.

“That’s the one,” Dillon said. “I had him driving a truck for me and a fellow up in New Hampshire there and he got hooked with it. Which was why he was coming up. He didn’t talk then, but he had a fall coming and he knew it. I thought maybe he was thinking about dumping me, but of course he wouldn’t do that without making a will first. So I guess he dumped Jimmy and Artie instead. Bastard.”

“He’s the one the Scal mentioned,” the man said. “LeDuc give his name to the man. Coyle. Eddie Fingers. That’s the one.”

“You want him hit?” Dillon said.

“The man wants him hit,” the man said. “There’s more to it than that. He wants it done tonight.”

“I can’t do it tonight,” Dillon said. “For Christ sake. It takes a little
while
, you know. I got to line some things up, I need a car and a piece and a driver, and I got to set the man up. Christ, I hit a man, I do it right, I don’t do it like some goddamned kid that caught his girl fucking somebody else.”

“The man says tonight,” the man said.

“Well,” Dillon said, “you go back and tell him, you say you talked to me and he knows me, he knows who I am, and you tell
him: ‘Look, Dillon’ll make the hit. But he’ll make it right, he’ll make it so there won’t be sixteen hundred squares looking on when he does it.’ You tell him that.”

“You want to be careful,” the man said, “there’ll be a contract out on you.”

“You betcher ass I want to be careful,” Dillon said. “I get a fair price. Five grand in front. Speaking of which, where is it?”

“I haven’t got it now,” the man said. “You do the job, you get it.”

“Oh,” Dillon said. “Big fancy Jew-type car, four hundred dollar suit, the shoes, the whole bit, and he wants me to make a hit on the cuff. Lemme tell you something, sweet baby, it don’t happen that way. I’m beginning to wonder, did the man send you after all? I never know the man do business like this before. Always very careful, does things inna right way. Not like this, one hand on your dick and the water coming out and the other holding up your goddamned pants when somebody takes your picture. What the fuck’s the matter with you guys down there, you blow your cool permanently?”

“Now look,” the man said.

“Now look, nothing,” Dillon said. “I treat a man with respect, I expect him to treat me with a little respect. He knows how I work, what I do, that’s why he wants me. With me it’s strictly cash in advance, no money, no hit. I don’t accept no credit cards, none at all whatsoever. Now I tell you what, you go and tell the man, you say: ‘Dillon’s getting it ready, the car, the gun, the whole thing. He’ll have it all ready to go the minute you press the button.’ Tell him that. And don’t come back up here again with no money. I’m willing to do a favor for anybody, but I got to think of some other things too, there’s a right way and a wrong way to do
everything. Unless maybe you want me to get Coyle arrested or something, I could do that today, and for nothing.”

“Don’t bush me,” the man said. “Don’t hand me that crap, you’ll get him arrested. The time comes somebody doesn’t want to be a man, we’ll let you know. You know how to handle these things.”

“I do,” Dillon said. “That’s why I’m having so much trouble understanding what the fuck is going on here. I think there’s something funny, maybe. You know where to get in touch with me. I’ll line things up, but I don’t move until I get the dough, all right?”

“The man isn’t going to like it,” the man said.