Dog Tags

CHAPTER 46

WILLIE SAW THEM AS SOON AS THEY ENTERED. Joseph Russo and his two bodyguards came in the front door of the Tara Foundation and checked out the place as if they were setting foot on Mars.

Of course, they looked upside down to Willie, since he was seeing them while lying on his back in the center of the foundation’s play area. He was participating in an energetic wrestling match with eleven dogs, and loving every minute of it.

It took him a while to get to his feet, since there were probably four hundred pounds of dogs on his chest. The largest of these was a New-fie, who insisted on licking Willie’s face during the entire process.

Finally Willie was able to make it over to Joseph and his men, all of whom seemed pleased to be behind the fence separating the main area from the play area.

“Hey, man. I didn’t expect you to come by,” Willie said.

“This is what you do?” Russo asked, not bothering to hide his incredulity.

“Yup. Every day.”

“Whose dogs are these?”

“Ours,” Willie said. “Until people adopt them; then we go out and get more.”

“You’re a fucking whacko.”

Willie nodded. “You got that right. Your friends want to come in here?” he asks, referring to the play area.

Russo looked at his bodyguards, whose expressions clearly conveyed the fact that they had no inclination whatsoever to enter the madhouse. He laughed. “I don’t think so. Is there someplace we can talk?”

Willie led Russo into the office, and the bodyguards waited just outside the door. “So, did you find out who hired Childress?’

“I did.”

“What’s his name?” Willie asks.

“He don’t have a name. They just call him M.”

“M like the letter M?” Willie asks.

“Yeah. He used to work out of Chicago; only handled big-time hits. Then he dropped out, but the word is he’s working for serious money people.”

“You know who they are?”

Russo shook his head. “No.”

“So how do I find this M guy?”

“Willie, this is not somebody you want to find. We’re not talking about a guy in a prison yard with a knife. We’re talking about bad news.”

Willie wasn’t about to back down. “I want to find him.”

Russo looked at Willie and knew he wasn’t going to be talked out of it. “Okay, I got the word out, but it won’t be easy. The cops have been looking for him for years. Every once in a while there’s a rumor he’s dead, like that Osama asshole. But he ain’t. He makes other people dead.”

“Thanks, Joseph. I appreciate this.”

“No sweat. So maybe I’ll get myself a dog. One of the big ones.”

“Yeah?” Willie said, showing no enthusiasm whatsoever.

“You don’t think that’s a good idea?”

“Do you like dogs?”

Russo shrugged. “Yeah. As long as they shit where they’re supposed to.”

“Where would you keep it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where would it sleep?”

“In the backyard. I’d get one of those doghouses. A real nice one.”

Willie shook his head. “Sorry, can’t help you. The dogs we adopt out live in houses with the people. Hanging outside is a pretty crummy life, you know?”

“So you’re telling me I’m not good enough for one of your dogs?”

“No, I’m saying that you’re good, and the dogs are good, but you ain’t good together.”

Russo didn’t say anything for ten seconds, trying to digest what he’d just heard. Then he smiled. “Your balls haven’t gotten any smaller, have they?”

Willie returned the smile. “Hope not.”