Once Were Cops

Sixteen

Morronni was seriously pissed.

Gino, standing before him, was nervous, very.

He hadn’t seen the boss this enraged for a long time and he was drinking neat bourbon, a very bad sign, meant medieval shit was coming down the pike and soon.

He stared at Gino, asked,

“The fuck were you thinking, you stupid prick?”

Gino, at a loss, asked,

“What’d I do?”

Morronni was on his feet, swaying, neat bourbon on an empty stomach and a batch of rage will sway the best or worst of ’em, he spat,

“Do... fucking do, you offed the young Mick’s broad, I said we’d refocus him but I didn’t fucking mean for him to go ballistic and he will.”

Gino crossed his heart, swore on his mother’s grave, he hadn’t touched her.

Morronni paused, then,

“Would that psycho Fernandez have done it?”

Gino, relieved to be off the hook, said,

“He’s capable of anything.”

Morronni fumed, then:

“Him and Kebar, they’re gonna make a move real soon, are we ready?”

Gino, on safer ground, said,

“We have a full crew all over the club, Kebar comes in, he’ll be hit from four different angles, he’s history.”

Morronni said,

“Make sure they’re ready to go, those cops, they’re gonna come real soon.”

Gino smiled, said,

“They’ll never know what hit them.”

Morronni, back to biz, asked,

“I don’t suppose Kebar told us where the cops are going to be when we make the shipment?”

Gino said,

“I think Kebar has outlived his usefulness.”

Morronni said,

“Bring him down hard, you hear?”

Gino heard, loud and deadly.

Further down the street, McCarthy was briefing his troops, going,

“The kid has suffered a major loss so he’s definitely going to back Kebar, they’ll make their move real soon, they go in the club, let them get started and we’ll go in, pick up the pieces, get most of Morronni’s crew too.”

His black partner was thinking,

“Pieces... bodies more like.”

I was sitting in me apartment, on my second Jameson, trying to keep my mind a blank.

Bang on the door and I opened it, piece in my hand.

Kebar.

Carrying a large holdall.

He began,

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

I held up my hand, said,

“Don’t.”

He began to unpack the holdall, bulletproof vests, sawn-offs and numerous handguns, said,

“They’re expecting us at the club, reason I’ve been casing it, let them think I’m going to go in there, and McCarthy, they’re waiting too, but Fernandez, he visits a little chickie on the West Side, gets himself a bit of poontang before he goes clubbing, that’s where we’re going, now, you still up for it?”

I began to put on the vest, asked,

“Take a wild guess?”

We were good to go and Kebar said,

“Glad to have you on board, kid.”

The duality, hell of a word that, isn’t it, was in full force, I liked Kebar but I had made my plans and with regret, I sneaked a look at him, he really did see me as his backup guy, I think this is where other people feel that thing they call regret, I don’t know about that but both sides of me were at war about my intended action.

On the way to the West Side, we didn’t talk, double-checked our firepower.

The street was deserted and Kebar pointed to a run-down apartment, said,

“He’s on the ground floor.”

Checked his watch, said,

“He should be just about getting his ashes hauled now.”

I asked,

“This is not an arrest?”

He said,

“Not too late for you to bail.”

We jimmied the door with a small pick, went in real quiet and a guy was dozing on a recliner, Kebar shot him in the gut then kicked in the bedroom door, Fernandez was indeed on the job and Kebar opened up with the Magnum, a volley of shots, not much chance the lady was going to survive.

Kebar came back out, said,

“Scatter those packages of coke all over the place, make it look like a dope deal gone to shit.”

Like that was going to fly.

Kebar was surveying the scene when I moved up to him, whispered.

“ ’Twas me fucked your sister.”

His howl of anguish was cut short by the two rounds I put in his skull.

I think you can figure which side of my duality won out.

I had to move fast but didn’t really feel hurried, I had it all mapped out in my head.

Left Kebar’s car at the scene, caught the train, then grabbed a cab, had him go past Fernandez’s club, saw Gino was in place. I had his apartment from traffic citations.

I had the cab drop me about five blocks from there and then strolled over. Easy to boost his door, the dumb fuck, didn’t he ever hear of deadlocks?

Boy, did I get lucky, found the envelope with the picture of me accepting the money from Morronni under a pile of dirty socks.

I cleaned the Ruger, still smelled the cordite from the recent firing, and I stashed it in a rag under his mattress, and reluctantly, my last two remaining sets of green rosary beads alongside.

Hated like hell to let them go.

Walked another five blocks, then made a call to 911, reported shots from Fernandez’s address.

Then I caught the train to Brooklyn, had me a large Jameson and chicken on rye, put lots of mayo on, I love that stuff, I turned on the TV and caught an episode of Veronica Mars, jeez, she is so hot.

I wondered how she’d look with the beads.

Turned in shortly after, man, I was beat.

Next day, all kinds of shitstorms had erupted.

I was summoned to O’Brien’s office, where regretfully, he informed me that Kebar had been killed after he attempted to arrest Fernandez. As a matter of form, he asked where I was and I said I’d been home watching the ball game, this was the two hours before Veronica Mars.

I asked if I could see the head of the task force.

O’Brien was surprised but made the call.

Peters arrived, mumbled something about sorry for the loss of my partner, he almost sounded sincere.

Almost.

I said,

“I’ve been following Gino for a while and I jotted down some of the neighborhoods he was cruising in.”

Peters said,

“So?”

“I checked the papers, those are the places the girls were strangled.”

He chewed my arse about going out on my own and when he was done, I asked,

“You want to hear the rest or not?”

He did, begrudgingly.

I said,

“Kebar had told me Gino was always playing with a worry beads and I didn’t make the connection till the other night when I realized Gino is Italian, he wouldn’t have a worry beads but he would have a rosary beads.”

Peters was on the phone, yelling to get him Gino’s address and to have the task force suit up and get ready to roll.

He looked at me, said,

“Sit tight, this pans out, you’re in fucking clover.”

I’d swear he was grinning.

Gino was charged with not only the stranglings but also the murder of Kebar, the slugs in Kebar’s head matching the Ruger.

The papers went to town on it and my photo was plastered all over, I looked pretty good, serious face, intense expression, and the mayor said I was exactly the type of young man the department was now recruiting.

Kebar was given a hero’s funeral, and in full uniform, I attended. As he had no family, I got the flag, thought that was a neat touch.

And... I got my gold shield.

In Kebar’s apartment, they’d found tapes of Morronni’s threats and bribes and he was currently under indictment.

He’d asked to see me.

Yeah, like that was going to happen.

He claimed he had evidence of me taking bribes but none came to light.

I was given two weeks’ compassionate leave for the loss of Nora and my partner and I went to Miami, lay on the beach, watched the gorgeous women, well, mainly I watched their necks, so delicate, just crying out for ornamentation.

I had to fight the urge, and the department doctor had given me some tranquilizers which I doubled up on, add a half bottle of Jameson and I could bite down, swallow hard and resist the impulse.

The odd time I thought of Lucia, and by now, they’d have transferred her to some state place.

I remembered her lovely neck and the Miraculous Medal I’d put on it.

She’d be left to rot, I figured, and then said,

“Shite happens.”

No matter how I tried to summon it, I couldn’t get a picture of me killing Nora and cutting her finger off, that crap would never occur to me... I think.