Lloyd Corricelli - Ronan Marino 01 - Two Redheads & a Dead Blonde (20 page)

“Ronan?”

“I want to help you because you were Karen’s friend.”

“Am I going to owe you something when it’s over?”

“No strings, Cass.”

She looked surprised but seemed to understand. Most men in her life undoubtedly expected sex when they did her favors. That definitely wasn’t my motive.

“You need to make sure you don’t tell anyone where you are. No parents, friends, nobody. Do you understand?”

“Yes. How long do you think I’ll be there?”

I didn’t have an answer. I looked at Tony and he just shrugged.

“As long as this takes. Are you willing to do that?”

“I guess. Will I see you?”

“I’ll come and check up on you.”

“Good. I’d like that.”

She leaned over and gave me a peck on the lips. A tear started to form in her eye.

I nodded to Tony and shut her door. He rolled down the window and just before he pulled out of the parking lot, he mouthed the word “homo.” He just didn’t know when it was time to be serious and time to be a ball buster.

I could have just made a critical error by sending Cassie into hiding, especially if I wasn’t able to convince Duffy to release her. I considered my options and killing him wasn’t one of them. Short of pointing a gun at me personally, which was highly unlikely to happen, he wasn’t going to put himself in a position where I could justify putting a slug in his head. Helping Cassie was only going to add fuel to an already burning bonfire. I should have added an asbestos suit to my growing list of needs.

****

I headed home and stumbled out of my Jeep, tired and hungry. I should have gone back out and got something, but I wasn’t in the mood. When you accept the burden of another human being’s life, it can take a heavy toll both mentally and physically. I’d been there before in a life or death situation and it’s not something just anyone can deal with.

Down the street in the white Buick sat Garcia. I was too tired to wave and I’d already embarrassed the kid enough today so I let it go and pretended I didn’t see him.

I opened the front door and turned on the hall light, throwing my jacket on the brass coat rack in the entryway. I reached for the living room light switch but just before turning it on, I felt a cold shiver down my back. If I had a spider sense, it would have been tingling like a son of a bitch.

I turned around to find a giant of man standing in my hall staring down at me. He stood about six and a half feet tall and weighed in at around two-forty easy. His head was shaven clean and his dark eyes were set back in his head like two lumps of coal. He had a huge barrel chest and each of his arms were roughly the size of a tree trunk. I was fairly sure he wasn’t here selling Avon.

I reached for my .45 but he was on me before I could get a shot off. I hated guys that big who had speed with power. He knocked the gun out of my hand and landed a punch into my midsection, knocking the wind out of me. I fell to my knees and bent over trying to regain my breath.

From behind he slipped a wire around my neck and began to squeeze tightly. I struggled to breathe all the while starting to lose consciousness. I grabbed the wire to pull it away from my neck but it was so tight against my skin it wouldn’t budge. Things started to go dark as I gasped for air that never came.

“Duffy Fitzpatrick sends his regards,” he said in a thick Irish brogue.

I had to do something quickly or I was dead. I drove an elbow into his chest, barely fazing him. I did it again but this time spun my entire body around and got to my feet so I was facing him. The wire dug into the skin around my neck but I was able to catch a breath with it off my windpipe. I found myself chest level to him and could smell the booze oozing from the pores of his skin. It was the distinct aroma that heavy drinkers carried with them.

I punched the giant square in the groin and his grip on the wire loosened. Dropping to one knee, I flipped him over and behind me. Air filled my lungs and we both lay on the floor waiting for the other to make the next move. I sucked oxygen in as he waited for the pain between his legs to subside.

My gun was on the floor right under the bay window facing the street. I moved for it but he summoned his strength and lunged at me. His momentum sent us forward crashing through the window. We landed on my front porch hard with him on top of me. There was a stabbing pain in my shoulder and I could feel warm blood running down my back.

The giant clutched my throat and squeezed tight. I tried to move him but his weight was too much for me. His black eyes bugged out of his head and his jaw clenched as his hands constricted my windpipe. In a final act of desperation, I reached up and drove my thumbs into his eye sockets, forcing them back into his skull. It was like some grotesque race for survival. Would he strangle me first or would I shove his eyes back into his brain?

Just as I was about to black out, I crossed the finish line first. There was a noise that sounded like a cockroach being crushed and his blood mixed with optical fluids ran down my hands. He groaned and fell backwards with a thud. I slowly rolled over and got to my hands and knees, gently avoiding the broken glass littering the porch.

Garcia came sprinting through my yard, his 9mm drawn and pointed at the giant. He kicked my adversary and he didn’t move. He shuddered when he saw the dead man’s face, a bloody mask of death with raw cavities where his eyes had once been.

“Are you okay?”

“You might want to call an ambulance,” I said and collapsed. The last thing I saw before I slipped into darkness were the flashing blue lights of a police cruiser.

THIRTEEN

I
woke up in a hospital examination room, a near duplicate to the one I’d been in two weeks prior. There was a large blood-soaked bandage on my shoulder and my shirt was off with a blanket covering me. I shivered, reached around and drew the blanket closer. The clock said it was one-thirty, which meant I had been out for close to two hours.

Everything seemed kind of hazy, like when you’re having a dream. I kept squinting to try and focus but it never came. Suddenly, the curtain moved and an angel appeared. Not a real angel though because that would have meant I was dead and I wasn’t ready for that just yet.

“What’s the matter, the elephants getting rowdy again?” Dr. Sadolovaki asked.

“Of all the ERs in the word, I have to land in this one,” I groaned.

“How clichéd.”

“My life is a cliché.”

“Really? Well, you certainly have a knack for getting yourself injured, Mr. Marino.”

“It’s a real talent, don’t you think?”

“No, I think you need to take better care of yourself and stop whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not in my character to do so.”

“If I knew what you were talking about I might feel bad for you.”

“It’s better if you don’t.”

“That’s your opinion.”

She removed my bandage and I could see a nasty gash held shut by butterflies. My blood had clotted and caked across my shoulder and down to my back. Dr. Sadolovaki cleaned it with alcohol. It stung a bit but if getting thrown through a window and having a guy twice my size land on my chest didn’t make me cry nothing probably would at this point.

“You had some broken glass in there but a nurse took it out while you were unconscious. You’re going to need about ten stitches to close it up. Do you want something to numb it?”

“No, I’ll be okay.”

“You don’t have to be macho for me.”

I wasn’t, even if it appeared that way to her.

“If it makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t so we’ll forego it. I can see by the scars on your chest that these aren’t the first stitches you’ve had anyway.”

She scrubbed her hands and started to assemble the stitches on a stainless steel counter next to the sink. She turned and looked at me lowering her head like a teacher chastising a student who has done something wrong.

“You’re lucky this isn’t any deeper. It could have done some muscle or ligament damage.”

“Yeah, lucky me.”

She touched my neck where the wire had been and I reeled back.

“This looks it was done with piano wire,” she said.

“I pissed off my piano teacher when I asked her to teach me “Great Balls of Fire.” How’d you know it was a piano wire?”

“I’ve never actually seen one on anyone live. Just in autopsies I attended as an intern,” she explained.  “All kidding aside, can I ask what really happened?”

It really wasn’t any of her business, but she’d been so nice before and there was something about the combination of her brown eyes, her smile and that long dark curly hair I couldn’t resist. While she stitched me up, I told her everything that had happened to me in the past couple of weeks leaving out a few details that she didn’t really need to know; like the part about doing Karen in the backseat of her car behind the gas company.

She finished with my shoulder and put a clean bandage on it.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” she said drolly.

“Would that disappoint you?” I asked.

“My life is just full of disappointment. Anyway, I thought the age of chivalry was long dead.”

“I guess I’m just a dinosaur.”

“You’ll be extinct like one if you keep this up,” she replied. “I’ve written you a few scripts for pain and an ointment for that neck. Take care of yourself, Mr. Marino and maybe I’ll see you at a game.”

Then she was gone and wouldn’t you know it, I forgot to ask what her first name was again. I’d have to consider season tickets to make sure I found her again. I could always get beat up some more and make another trip to the ER. I made a mental note to find the phone number for the tickets. It would definitely be the easier route.

I got off the table and looked around the room for my shirt. The curtain screeched open and Shea entered holding a dark blue T-shirt, which he threw to me.

“Thought you might need this,” he said. “They cut your other shirt off in the ambulance.”

“Thanks.”

“I also called a glass company I know to go out and fix your house. You mind telling me what the hell happened this time?”

“I got home, turned on the lights and Man Mountain Marko jumped me.”

“His name was Oisen Donohue.”

“Oisen? What the hell kind of name is that?”

“It’s a traditional Irish name. I’m surprised someone named Ronan doesn’t know that. Oisen was a former IRA assassin who has been wanted by INTERPOL for years,”

“How’d they miss him?”

“I don’t know. We believe he’s been in this country for the last two years working down the docks in Boston.”

“And his side job is knocking off Duffy Fitzpatrick’s enemies.”

“That’s purely speculation.”

“When he was trying to separate my head from my body he told me Duffy sent his regards. I’d consider that a bit more than speculation.”

“When you care enough to send the very best.”

“He seemed a bit sloppy. I think he’d been drinking.”

“IRA assassins just aren’t what they used to be.”

“I hear back in your day they were ten feet tall.”

“It was eleven feet, smartass.”

I slipped the shirt on and stood up. I was tired, my shoulder was throbbing, my ribs were sore again and I was hungry. I looked in the mirror mounted over the sink. There was a red line running all the way around my neck from the wire.

“Eventually, he’ll get you, Ronan.”

“I just killed a hardcore assassin. That might make him think twice.”

“Doubt it. Next time Duffy will just send two guys, then three, then four. Whatever it takes to get rid of you.”

He was right. Maybe I needed to end this. How long could I manage to stay alive before I slipped? I couldn’t ask Tony to watch my back forever and it was inevitable that eventually I’d get whacked. It could be in five minutes or five years but I didn’t want to live like that. I wanted this over now.

Then I remembered Cassie. Before tonight, I could have simply stopped beating the bushes for Karen’s killer and Duffy might have left me alone. Now I was stuck because I’d given Cassie my word and I would never go back on that promise. Once again my damn sense of responsibility was making my life hard.

We walked outside where Garcia was waiting to give me a ride home. I figured this was a good time to update Shea on the black car before I forgot. He’d be pissed off if he found out later.

“Remember the guys who beat me up?”

“Which time was this?”

“Very funny, the first time. They’re Medford P.D.”

“Fontini’s boys?”

“Yeah, though it’s unclear if he knows what they are up to.”

He nodded. “If what you say is true, it’s time I called someone higher up to deal with this.”

“And tell them what? We have no proof they did anything.”

“That’s why it’s called an investigation.”

“You think they can find something we can’t, be my guest.”

He crossed his arms and started tapping his foot. The situation was making him entirely too uncomfortable.

“Okay, I’ll wait a few more days, but if anything else happens, I have no choice.”

“I understand.”

From my reflection in the glass doors I noticed the T-shirt he gave me said “Lowell Police Department” with a badge on the chest. “Nice shirt, Gary.”

“It looks good on you.”

“I’ll have it cleaned and sent back to you.”

“You keep it. You might need it again sometime.”

Five minutes later, I was sitting in the front seat of Garcia’s Buick heading home.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“How did you see me downtown when I was tailing you?”

“I‘ve got a lot of experience spotting those kind of things. Look, when I finish what I’m doing you and I will go out one night and I’ll show you how to do a tail that no one will ever pick up.”

“That’d be great, man.”

“I need you to do me a favor, will you?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“Convince your boss to stop following me around. I’ll tell him when I need something.”

“I’ll do what I can, but you know how stubborn the lieutenant is.”

“I’ll just keep losing you guys anyway.”

“Good point.”

“So where is your partner? He leaves you alone too much.”

“He has a higher calling.”

“The election will be over soon.”

“He’ll just find another excuse not to work past five.”

“He worked late that night we ran into you guys at my girlfriend’s apartment.”

“That was the one and only time.”

Garcia pulled up in front of my house and let me out. Someone had put up a piece of plywood over my broken window. I went inside and surveyed the damage. I recalled once reading a Batman comic when the Joker and his goons invaded the Bat Cave and attacked the Dark Knight. He managed to survive, but the cave was trashed. Tonight I empathized with him even though I had suffered only a broken window and a few stitches.

Duffy had sent a professional gun for hire right into my home and came within seconds of killing me. For one of the few times in my life, I wasn’t sure what to do. It might have been the fatigue or I may have finally run into a situation that was way over my head.

I fantasized about going into Southie Punisher style and shooting it out with Duffy’s crew. It made a pretty interesting daydream but in reality was a pretty stupid solution. Perhaps I could get Uncle Sal to negotiate a settlement with Duffy. Money talks with wise guys of any ethnicity.

That solution though would be violating every ethical principle I believed in. I’d have to find another way that my moral compass could stomach. I made a quick call to Tony to make sure he and Cassie made it to Maine safely. She was sleeping soundly and I suspected felt pretty safe around Tony. I didn’t tell him about my visitor. There would be plenty of time for that later. I took a shower, changed my bandage and got in bed. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.