Small crimes

Chapter 7

On my drive back to Bradley, I thought about Elaine and knew I shouldn't have expected anything different from her. She had closed herself off to me a long time ago – as she had every reason in the world to. I had abandoned my family when I'd drifted into cocaine and gambling, and maybe even before that. Most evenings I was out of the house until past midnight and most mornings I snuck out without saying a word to anyone. I guess I was hiding from them. I felt dirty and had gotten paranoid that my little girls would see how dirty I had become. I couldn't deal with that, so I hid from them.

Melissa and Courtney were six and four when I was arrested. Now they were fourteen and twelve and I had almost no memories of them. I couldn't even imagine what they looked like now – I could barely even remember what they looked like back then. Just about the only good memories I had were of Courtney's first birthday.

I had no chance of ever reconciling with Elaine. Thinking otherwise was a pipe dream, and thinking that I could get back into my girls' lives was an even bigger pipe dream. Elaine was right. I blew whatever chance I had with my girls and in no way did I deserve another, not after all the things I'd done. Not with all the baggage and bodies and damage dragging behind me.

Melissa and Courtney didn't deserve that. I guess at some level I had known that for a long time.

It was funny, but my reason for driving up was to give Elaine the six grand and to talk her into letting my parents see my kids. I screwed up on both fronts. Seeing her, I just started kidding myself, and then once she just started pushing my buttons, I guess I had to start pushing hers also. That was the thing with the two of us, we knew how to push each other's buttons.

Elaine and I had known each other since we were in grade school; she was my first and only girlfriend and we were married at nineteen, and now we were nothing more than strangers. It made me sick inside to realize how tightly her heart had closed to me. I hadn't seen her for almost eight years, but as soon as I did I realized I still had feelings for her. I knew how tough things had to have been making it on her own these past eight years. She had no other family, no one but the girls. An older brother had died in Vietnam and her dad never quite got over that and died of either a broken heart or a heart attack (take your pick) when she was in high school. Her mom got sick after that and lingered long enough to see us get married. She had some uncles and aunts in other states, but I knew she wasn't close to any of them. I wish she had stayed close to my parents, but I wasn't going to cause her any more grief, especially after everything I'd put her through.

When she started walking out of the coffee shop I realized how I needed to give my life meaning. I know this will sound corny, but it became so clear to me – I had to live in a way that Melissa and Courtney could be proud of. Also, just as importantly, I needed to support my girls and Elaine. Whatever I could do financially I was going to do. I made up my mind then. I would throw away the pension papers. Whatever money I was going to make, I would make honestly. And I would send Elaine and my girls whatever I could. In my heart I made a promise to my girls that that was what I was going to do.

I still badly wanted to see Melissa and Courtney; even if it was only for five minutes. If for no other reason than so I could tell them how sorry I was. How they deserved so much better. But again, what good would it do them? Probably just screw them up.

Fuck it.

It was three in the afternoon by the time I arrived at Bradley Memorial Hospital. I checked at the front desk and got Manny's room number. He had a private room and I could see him – or at least what had to have been him – lying on a bed. Manny used to be a thick, heavy man with skin like hard rubber. What was lying on that bed was a third of what Manny had once been. It was almost like a balloon that had been mostly deflated. And that thick rug of black hair he had was gone. But it was his eyes that got me. They weren't the same hard ruthless eyes that I used to know. Instead they were the eyes of a scared and frightened man. I was about to walk in when I heard Phil's voice coming from a corner. I froze for a moment and then peeked in and saw Phil sitting off to the side of Manny. He was reading Manny the Bible, his voice droning softly over the hum of medical equipment. And Manny was giving him full attention, his eyes wide open and scared to death. Neither of them saw me and I moved quickly away from the doorway. My heart was beating like a rabbit's.

A nurse was about to enter the room. I stopped her.

'I was hoping you could help me out,' I said, my voice barely above a whisper. 'I need to talk privately with Manny. We're old friends but it's personal business and it's important. Could you find me in the cafeteria when he's alone?'

She looked like she wanted to bolt and could barely look me in the eye, but she nodded and muttered 'okay'.

I was in a daze as I made my way to the hospital cafeteria. I couldn't believe what I saw in there – that image of Manny listening attentively to the Bible, his eyes wide open and brimming with fear. Jesus Christ! That wasn't the Manny I knew. The Manny I knew would've been flipping Phil the bird and pulling out his catheter to piss on him if he could reach that far. I understood why Dan was so damned worried about him spilling his guts.

The Manny I used to know was the most ruthless sonofabitch I'd ever met. He had moved to Vermont from the Bronx when he was in his early twenties and he was like a piranha in a tank full of guppies. At the time I was arrested, he had his hands in every crooked, amoral business that went on in Vermont. Drugs, gambling, prostitution, loan sharking, extortion – you name it, Manny had his fat hands in it. And he had no problem taking care of the dirty part of the business himself. I don't think he enjoyed it – he wasn't a crazy sicko like his son – but he had no problem with it.

One time a big shot from New York tried to muscle in on Manny and open up escort services around a few of the ski resorts. This guy, I think his name was Wally Sneck, or something like that, made the mistake of showing up in Vermont to check out one of his businesses. Manny got wind of it, had me show up and put cuffs on Sneck, and drag him to the basement of one of Manny's clubs. I thought Manny was going to just scare him, but hell no. Manny ended up giving him a couple of hard kicks to the mouth. He checked to see whether there were any front teeth left, saw that there were, and kicked him a couple of more times until they were knocked out. I don't think he enjoyed it, but I know it didn't bother him either. It was simply business. In any case, Sneck sold his escort services that night to Manny for a buck.

His son, Manny Jr., was a different story. Junior was a sadistic psychopath. Manny had sent me on a collection job once with Junior. At the time Junior was seventeen and I think what Manny wanted was to give his kid some experience and to have me there in case there were problems. The guy we were collecting from was just some poor sap, and he was crapping in his pants when we cornered him one night in a parking lot. He would have paid up right away, but before I realized what was happening, Junior had taken a lead pipe to the guy's knees. He got several whacks in before I was able to pull him off. I could tell that crazy bastard enjoyed every second of it. That was the one and only time I was willing to go out on a job with him. Over the years I'd heard other stories regarding Junior – pretty bizarre stuff, and I wouldn't bet against any of them being true.

When I got to the cafeteria, I bought a cup of coffee and sat down. I now knew there was a good chance Manny would confess all to Phil and I would end up going away for a long time, maybe even life if Manny could sell that I had killed Ferguson. And as Dan had pointed out, I wouldn't be spending my days in a county jail in Bradley, but some hardcore maximum-security prison God knows where. Panic started to overtake me. I felt a tightening in my chest and could barely breathe. I knew I couldn't spend any more time locked away. It was tough enough sitting out the last seven years in county jail and spending my days realizing how badly I had wasted my life.

Crazy thoughts flooded my head, thoughts of running and suicide and other things I wouldn't want to mention. If Elaine knew me as well as she thought she did I would've driven to some quiet spot, put a gun in my mouth, and ended it right then and there. Because that would've been the easy way out. But I wasn't going to take the easy way out. I didn't know what I was going to do but it wasn't going to be that.

Running wouldn't do any good either. Even with the sixty-five hundred dollars that Dan gave me I wouldn't be able to run far enough. Eventually they'd catch up with me. And even if I could, what would I be running to? A drifting, meaningless existence? Going back on the promise I'd just made my girls? No, running wasn't an option. Neither was suicide. But I was going to have to do something, because I wasn't going to live out my days in prison.

At one point I could feel that I was being stared at. To my left, a few tables over, a family of four sat. They were all large boned, heavy and unattractive. All of them were glaring in my direction. The father was a few years older than me, and along with the mother there was a teenage son and a pre-teen daughter. From the physical resemblance, I knew they were the family of the boy whose arm I shattered. I stared back at them until they left their table. Then I went back to my brooding.

I was deep in some dark thoughts when I realized someone was standing near me. I looked up and saw it was the nurse from before. She was a small, mousy woman in her mid-thirties, with thinning brown hair and large nervous eyes. She was trying to clear her throat to get my attention.

I looked up at her and forced a smile.

'Mr. Vassey's company has left,' she told me.

"Thank you. I appreciate your helping me like this.'

'I… I should be getting back to work.' She stood awkwardly for a moment and looked like what she really wanted was for me to invite her to sit down. I wasn't feeling up to visiting Manny yet so I asked if I could buy her a cup of coffee.

'I really should be getting back.' She could barely meet my eyes, but she didn't seem overly anxious to walk away.

I stood up and pulled a chair out for her. 'Come on,' I said, forcing a bigger smile. 'Why don't you take a five-minute break and join me?'

She hesitated for a moment but she sat down. I guess I can take a short break,' she admitted, showing a tiny smile.

I asked her how she took her coffee and whether she wanted anything else, maybe a Danish or doughnut, but all she wanted was the coffee. I got up and bought her a cup and also ended up buying her a piece of chocolate cake that looked edible.

I brought the coffee and cake back to the table and sat across from her. She murmured out a 'thank you', and glanced up at me while she sipped her drink. I noticed she was looking uneasily at my scratches.

'I walked into a tree branch last night and got a little scratched up,' I said.

I could tell from the change in her expression that she believed me. The scratches obviously weren't made by a tree branch, but if you want to believe something, you'll believe it. She mentioned how I needed to be more careful and I agreed with her.

'By the way,' I said as I held out my hand, 'my name's Joe Denton. I'm happy to meet you.'

She hesitated before taking my hand. Her own hand was small and disappeared in mine. Even though she looked a bit mousy and her hair was too thin, she had some nice features. Especially her eyes when they weren't nervous. They were a soft hazel color and were nice to look at.

'I'm Charlotte Boyd,' she said in a muted voice.

We had shaken hands longer than we should have. I made the first move to let go.

'I've lived in Bradley my whole life and never knew any Boyds,' I said, still forcing my smile. 'Are you from around here?'

'I moved here from Montreal three years ago,' she said. She no longer had any problem meeting my eyes.

'I've never been to Montreal. I'll have to go someday. Let me guess, you're French?'

'No,' she said, 'and it's not very nice up there if you're not. I moved to Montreal after college. I grew up in Toronto.'

'Toronto and Montreal, huh? And now you're in the middle of nowhere. Well, anyway, how do you like Bradley?'

'I like it.' She looked away from me, her tiny smile gone. 'It's fine.'

She had no engagement or wedding ring on. My guess was she was unattached and probably as lonely as I was. I know, Bradley's a small town. It probably takes getting used to after cities like Montreal and Toronto,' I said. 'So you're Manny's nurse?'

She nodded. 'He's one of my patients.' She lowered her voice. 'Mr. Vassey is not doing well. His cancer is at an advanced stage.'

'I know. Oh well, what can you do?' I shook my head sadly and then hesitated for a moment. 'Was that Phil Coakley I saw in there with Manny?'

'I believe so, yes. Mr. Coakley visits every day. He seems like a nice man. It's a shame what happened to his face.'

I could tell from her expression that she didn't mean anything by her comment. She had no idea that I was the cause of that shame. I guess she hadn't read the papers the other day.

I muttered something under my breath about agreeing with her how much of a shame it was. I glanced at my watch and saw it was almost four.

'I better get up there and see Manny while I got the chance,' I said.

She lowered her glance from me. 'It was nice meeting you, Joe.' She spoke so quietly I could barely hear her.

'Same here, Charlotte. I hope it didn't sound like I was giving you the third degree before with all my questions. I used to be a police officer and some habits die hard. But it was nice meeting you. Maybe we'll bump into each other again.'

'I didn't mind your questions at all.'

'Well, that's good. I'll see you around.'

I started towards the elevator and stopped to give her a friendly wave. She seemed somewhat startled by it, but gave me a wave back and her soft hazel eyes held steady as they met mine.

I found Manny alone when I got to his room. His eyes were partially open but he seemed to be sleeping. It would've been so easy to grab a pillow and end it right there. I wondered briefly whether at this stage they'd bother with an autopsy. But I knew they would. Phil would hear that I was in the hospital asking about Manny and he would demand one. And even if nobody mentioned anything about me being there, Phil would still suspect that I was involved and demand the autopsy anyway.

I could see Manny was on oxygen and there were intravenous tubes stuck in his arms. One of the tubes was connected to a morphine drip. As I was studying it, I heard Manny stir.

'Who's there?' he asked.

I pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. 'How you doing, Manny, it's been a long time.'

He stared at me and blinked several times before he recognized me. "They let you out already? Too bad,' he noted without much enthusiasm.

'A damn shame,' I said, agreeing with him. 'You're looking better these days. You finally find a diet that works? Good for you.'

'What you talking about? I got cancer. I'm dying. They give me a month, two months tops.'

'I heard about your condition, Manny. I'm sorry.' I moved closer to him and lowered my voice. 'And I was sorry to hear that you reneged on our agreement and took every dime Elaine had.'

He flashed me a nasty smile and it was the first time I recognized him as the Manny of old. I had seen that smile dozens of times before after he had screwed someone. The smile all but said what are you going to do about it, cocksucker?

'Joe,' he said, still showing that smile, 'you were on the books for over a hundred large. I took less than twenty out of her. You're lucky I didn't make her work her ass off for the rest of your balance. Besides, you made me make that deal under duress.'

He turned from me, his smile fading. 'What do you want?' he asked.

'I just wanted to see an old friend.'

'You're full of crap.'

'Okay, I want to know why you're lying here every goddam day listening to Phil Coakley read you the Bible.’

'How's that your business?'

'It's my business when Phil's bragging to me that he's going to convert you to Christ and have you confess all so he can put me away.'

That comment should have enraged Manny, at least it would've enraged the old Manny. This one just stared at me blankly, his shriveled face sagging into his pillow.

'Well, Manny, you see why it's my business?'

His eyes wavered and he looked away from me. 'He gives me comfort,' he said at last.

I just gawked at him, incredulous. 'What the hell are you saying? That you've found religion? That you're going to confess all your sins so you can go to heaven? You realize how ridiculous that sounds? Damn it; Manny, is that what you're saying?'

'I'm not saying nothing. I'm not going to rat anyone. But even if I did, what difference would it make? It can't be used in court. It's hearsay.'

'You're a lawyer now? I got news for you, Manny, a deathbed confession is an exception to the hearsay rule. Any confession you make can be used in court regardless of how dead and buried you are. I don't know what crap Phil is filling you up with, but he's bullshitting you.'

'I'm not going to rat,' he said, but he couldn't look me in the eye. I knew he was lying. His mouth screwed up as if he were about to start bawling. 'I'm a dying man, Joe. What do you want from me?'

'I want you to keep your mouth shut. If you talk, it's not just me. You'll end up putting a lot of people away, including your own son. I guarantee you Junior would go away for a long time.'

He gave me a look right then that told me he'd already made a deal. The look only flashed on his face for a second, but it told me everything. If he talks Junior gets protected.

1 don't feel good, Joe. Why don't you get out of here.'

I leaned very close to him. 'Look, Manny,' I whispered into his ear, 'I kept my mouth shut for the last seven years while I sat in jail. I could've talked and put you away with me. Right now you'd be rotting in a prison hospital if I hadn't kept quiet.'

'Yeah, so?'

'So? Goddam it, Manny, confessing your sins to Phil won't change anything. You're still going to end up burning in hell.’

‘No I won't,' he argued stubbornly.

From behind me I heard a loud voice booming, 'Hey, Pop, who's that with you?' I turned and saw Manny Jr. with what must have been two of his sons. Junior had grown to look a lot like his dad used to; a heavy, thick man with a complexion like chipped glass and a hardness about him. His two boys were probably under seven but both looked like miniature versions of him. Junior stood staring at me for a long moment before he recognized me. Then a vicious smile crept onto his face.

'Hey, look what the cat dragged in here. Joe Denton, what the hell are you doing here?'

'Old business with your dad.'

'Yeah, well, I think your business is over. Don't let the door hit you too hard on the way out.'

He started towards me, his smile stretching until his lips nearly disappeared. I got up and walked close to him. 'You and me have business,' I said. 'Star Diner out in Chesterville. Meet me there at seven.'

'Nah,' he said. 'Why don't you meet me at the house. I got a new game room in the basement. We can have some fun.'

'I don't think so. Star Diner at seven. You better be there, Junior.'

I turned back and told Manny I'd be seeing him, and then I walked out of there.