Sendoff for a Snitch (19 page)

I rummaged in the kitchenette for two bowls and a pair of spoons. Dishing it into the bowls, I said, “I hope you like chili.”

“Chili’s food, ain’t it?” he said. “Of course I like it. There’s another few cases of root beer back there somewhere. Get one, will you?”

I found an unopened fridge pack. “I take it that was your brother Nick?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Piece of work, ain’t he?”

I shrugged. “He fly off the handle like that a lot?”

“He can be touchy. Been worse than usual lately.”

Breaking the cornbread in pieces, I took one and waved my hand at the rest. “Take some.”

Crumbling a piece into his chili and stirring it, Jumbo George peered across the table at me. “You know,” he said, “you look like somebody who can take care of yourself. But I have to say you looked downright scary just then. I wouldn’t have wanted to challenge you to a fight. You done hard time?”

I nodded.

“How much?”

“Twenty years.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And you’re how old?”

“Thirty-seven.”

“That’s more time down than on the street. From when you was a kid.”

“Don’t remind me.” I took a spoonful of chili.

“You manditoried out?”

I shook my head. “Parole. Another twenty backup time.”

“So you got to watch your step?”

“Yeah. I don’t need no more trouble in this lifetime.”

He scratched under his beard. “Nick told me about Aaron. Might have been murdered. You know about that?”

“Hadn’t heard the murder part. But it doesn’t surprise me. Aaron was mixed up with all kinds of shit. And he wasn’t real smart about it.”

“You can say that again. Nick’s afraid that when they investigate the whole thing, they’ll find out some shit he’s been involved in with Aaron. Drugs, I think.”

“Could be. Aaron was into drugs.”

“And Nick’s afraid Aaron was a snitch.”

I looked up. “Not much doubt about it. Aaron was a snitch. Police informant.”

Jumbo George winced. “So do you think somebody offed him?”

“I dunno. And don’t care. Just so they don’t think it was me.” But that’s exactly what they would think.

By the time the light was getting too dim to work, we’d gotten a lot done. The ruined merchandise had been discarded, the muddy things rinsed off, the floor scraped down to basic tile, and the shelves restocked.

“I’ll go over everything again with hot water and detergent when I have hot water,” Jumbo George said, eyeing the display cases under the counter with satisfaction. “And I’ll get everything out of the front window, scrub the area down, and put in a new display.”

I had my doubts he could do all that by himself, but he’d done a lot already, so he might surprise me.

Thinking of the agreed-upon meeting with Banjo, I said, “I got to go meet a friend. You okay for supper?”

“Yeah. One advantage to selling a lot of trail mix is I always got plenty of food.”

Chapter 16

A
s Banjo had predicted, Mickey’s Bar had electricity. It might be the only place dispensing alcohol for miles around, and it was hopping. They’d drawn their usual crowd and a whole bunch of others.

It was on the corner of a row of storefronts with apartments above. I checked to see if the laundromat was open. I really needed to be doing my laundry soon. It was.

Cars lined the street. A pair of fancy choppers stood in one space, their chrome and extended forks gleaming in the streetlight.

I hesitated before going in. That was silly. I was a lot more likely to be seen loitering on the sidewalk in front of the place than if I went in and sat in a corner, minding my own business.

Banjo was already inside, sitting at a table with a couple of bikers. All of them were sitting facing the room, so I couldn’t see the backs of their vests. I would have taken bets that they wore Predator colors.

Springing to his feet, Banjo shouted, “Jesse! Come sit with us.”

I edged over to the table and pulled out a chair, then placed it so my back was to the wall. Banjo was already half-sloshed. He waved toward me expansively. “This here is my old cell buddy—the best guy you could ever share a cell with! He had my back when I was a snot-nosed kid, just locked up for the first time.”

The bikers stared at me intently, but didn’t say anything.

Banjo gestured at them. “Spider and Nuke,” he said by way of introduction.

“The next round’s on me,” Banjo said, heading toward the bar without asking anybody what they wanted. He returned with both hands full of beer steins, plunking them down in front of us.

I knew I shouldn’t drink, but I didn’t see how I could decline without dissing Banjo, and if I nursed it and kept it to just the one, I should be okay.

“We was just talking about Aaron,” Banjo said, taking a big swig of his beer. “Ain’t that who you wanted to know about?”

“Yeah.” How much did he know? And how reliable would any of it be if he was drunk?

“You know he’s dead?”

“I’d heard that.”

Banjo shook his head. “First they thought he might have just OD’d and drowned. But then they said he’d been hit on the head. Probably unconscious when he fell in the water.”

“Or was put there,” Nuke said ominously.

“But he did drown?” I asked.

“Yeah. Funny, that. They found his body in a flooded stairwell, pretty far away from where he lived. Not near where he worked, either. What do you suppose he was doing over there?”

I shrugged. I wished I knew.

“Plenty of people had beefs with him,” Banjo went on “He had a finger in everything he could find. Boosting cars; dealing drugs, especially to truck drivers; lifting anything he could get his hands on.”

“Snitching,” Spider said.

“Yeah. Ain’t no surprise he ended up dead. Serves him right.” Banjo looked mournfully at his empty stein, then glanced around. Mine was still almost full, but everyone else’s was empty. “I’ll get another round,” he said, rising from the table and gathering the empty steins.

I wondered where he was getting the money from. Better not to ask.

He plunked the beer steins down again, including a full one in front of me. I was going to have to drink more than I wanted to. Remembering how I’d felt the last time I tried drinking, I wasn’t looking forward to that. But this was commercial beer, not somebody’s home-distilled corn liquor. Maybe it wouldn’t make me as sick. I took a small sip.

When Banjo was settled in his seat, I asked, “Anybody hear anything about how Aaron got along with his brothers?”

Spider said, “He had a kid brother. Turn up with the kid in all kinds of dumb places. In a stolen car. At a buy. Stupid.”

“Didn’t he have older brothers or something?”

The biker shrugged. “Not that I ever knew.”

“Older brothers?” Banjo said. “I heard something about one, runs a head shop in town. And another one, who’s a trucker. That’s how come he could sell to them. Had an in, somebody they knew.”

“Where’d he get the shit?”

“Predators got a good business going.”

Nuke reached over the table and smacked Banjo across the face. “Don’t be putting nobody’s business out in public,” he said.

Banjo rubbed his cheek. “Sorry. Didn’t mean no harm. I mean, Jesse, he’s cool.”

“But we’re in public. Anybody could be listening.”

I changed the subject. “How you doing since you got sprung, Banjo?”

He brightened up. “Okay. I been thinking about moving south, though. Too cold here.”

“You off supervision?”

“Will be in two months. Done most of my backup time in lockup.” He laughed. “It’s too easy to violate.”

I was uncomfortably aware of that fact.

A loud commotion broke out across the room. We ignored it. I lifted my beer to take another sip.

A body crashed across our table, slamming against me and Spider. My beer spilled down my jacket. Well, that would be less I had to drink.

The guy’s arm came up and knocked Nuke across the face. Nuke stood up and grabbed the guy by the throat. He crashed his head into the guy’s forehead and kneed him in the groin. The guy collapsed on the floor, moaning.

If he were moaning, he couldn’t be dead.

A crowd began to gather.

The bikers stood up and downed the rest of their beer. They started to elbow their way past the onlookers toward the door. Their Predators colors were visible on the backs of their vests. The crowd parted to let them through.

A woman dressed in a skimpy shimmering outfit, a cocktail glass in her hand, pushed her way up to the front. “Uh, Fred?” she asked, looking at the guy who lay there. “You feel okay?”

I could have told her he didn’t feel okay, but he probably wasn’t really hurt. I peered down at him.

He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him.

“You gonna get up, honey?” the woman said, nudging him with the pointed toe of her shoe. “Uh, Fred?”

Fred? I looked closer. Fred. Kelly’s ex. I’d only seen him a few times, and then his face wasn’t all twisted up in agony, but that was definitely him.

Was that a siren I heard in the distance? If somebody had called the cops, they might be here any second.

“Banjo.” I grabbed his sleeve. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” he said, cradling his empty mug. “The party’s just getting started.”

“You can stay. I’m out of here.”

“Suit yourself.”

Flashing lights showed through the front window. I looked around and saw a fire exit in the back wall. Probably led to the alley. I slipped through the crowd and out the door.

I breathed the cool night air. It cleared my head a little. I hadn’t drunk more than half the first beer, so I should be all right.

The security light placed high on the wall threw grotesque shadows. Overfilled dumpsters lined the alley. A few cars were parked haphazardly.

The police probably wouldn’t be poking around back here. If they’d wanted to catch anybody, they wouldn’t have used the siren. The whole point of that was so that the troublesome elements would disperse before they arrived. Now they’d have to do something with the injured Fred.

Dodging trash blown by the wind, I strode down the alley toward the far end. I needed to get off the street. Jumbo George’s place sounded like a good bet.

As I passed the last car parked in the alley, a small voice called out. “Jesse?”

I stopped and looked at the open window of the car. “Chris? Is that you?”

“Me and Brianna,” he said.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for Dad. He told us to wait while he went into the bar and got something for us to eat. We’re hungry. And he’s been gone for a long time. I don’t know if he’s still in the bar.”

What was this with adults leaving kids in vehicles? First Benji, now Chris and Brianna.

“He’s still in the bar, all right,” I said. And not likely to be able to take care of his kids any time soon. “Your mom know where you are?”

“I don’t think so,” Chris said. “Just that Dad was supposed to take us out for dinner. Then bring us back home.”

“Is your mom home?”

“I think so.”

I debated what to do. I couldn’t leave the kids here in the car. I could go find one of the cops, and when the report went in that Fred had left them in the car while he was in the bar, fighting no less, it would help Kelly with her efforts to get full custody.

But if Kelly had been drinking when they contacted her to come get the kids, they might put the kids in emergency foster care. And I wasn’t particularly anxious to get involved with the authorities myself.

Driving the car, with the kids in it, to Kelly’s might be an option. The last time I tried driving without a license, though, it hadn’t ended well. Fred probably would claim the car was stolen.

“Do you think we can call your mom to come get you or something?” I asked. I didn’t have a cell phone, but maybe Banjo did. I’d have to go back in the bar to find out, though.

“Dad left his cell phone on the charger here,” Chris said. “He said not to call anybody, though. He said he’d get in trouble, and it’d be my fault.”

“Give it to me. If anybody gets in trouble, it’ll be my fault.”

Chris handed me the phone. I stared at it blankly. People used them all the time. But how the hell did it turn on?

“Do you know how to use it?” I asked Chris.

He took it back and did something to it. It lit up, and images started blinking on the screen. I stared at it. How did it work?

Eventually, the scrolling images stopped.

“You just punch the phone number in on the keypad,” Chris said, “and hit ‘send.’”

Awkwardly, I pushed the buttons for Kelly’s home phone and then the send button.

The phone made a few weird noises and then buzzed. The word “ERROR” showed up on the screen and kept blinking.

“Did you put in the whole area code?” Chris asked.

“No.”

“Then you have to reset it and start over.”

“How do I do that?”

Chris took the phone back again and did something to it again. Then he handed it back.

I punched in Kelly’s entire phone number, area code included. The phone rang.

“Hello?” she said.

“Kelly?”

“Yes,” she said impatiently. “Who is this? Is it you, Jesse?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you want?”

“Well, I’m with the kids.”

“The kids? Chris and Brianna?”

What other kids could I possibly mean? But I said, “Yeah.”

“What are you doing with the kids?”

“Fred left them in the car while he went into a bar. They’re cold and hungry. Maybe you should come pick them up.”

“Where the hell are you?”

“You know Mickey’s Bar on Middle Street?”

“Yes.”

“The car’s parked in the alley behind it. Down at the other end.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

A patrol car eased around the corner at the other end of the alley and crept toward us, its searchlight moving over the walls and parked cars.

I slid into the car and sat in the front seat. I was less conspicuous. And warmer.

The kids huddled in the back seat, a thin blanket wrapped around them. I wished I had something to feed them.

The patrol car passed by without stopping. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until I had to gulp in air.

An ambulance screamed by the end of the alley. We just sat. It rounded the corner, and we could hear it screech to a stop. I wondered if they were picking up Fred.

Kelly’s old station wagon finally pulled up. Chris climbed out. Brianna was sleepy and limp. I picked her up and carried her.

Climbing out of her car, Kelly rushed up and took Brianna from my arms. She opened the back door to her car and laid the child on the seat. Then she looked at Chris, who was clinging to my waist. “What happened?” she asked.

Chris hung on to me tighter. “Dad told us to wait for him and to not use the phone or we’d get in trouble. But Jesse called you to come.”

“It’s all right,” Kelly assured him. “You won’t get in trouble for Jesse using the cell phone.” She stepped up to take his hand.

Her face inches away from my jacket, she stopped and sniffed. “You smell like a brewery,” she said. “You’ve been drinking again.”