The Blade Itself

14

Evan was out there. Somewhere.

Working on his car, the radio tuned to classic rock, a rag in his back pocket. Straining and sweating at his old weight bench. Or maybe sitting across the street with a pistol in his lap.

It meant that getting up and going to work was out of the question. Danny needed time to think. Besides, he didn’t want to look Richard in the eye, not yet. So he’d called in, said he needed a day to take care of some personal business.

Then he sat and had a cup of coffee with his dead father.

It happened as he counted his options. The way he saw it, he had only four. He could refuse to help and risk Evan coming at him, tearing his life apart. He could bolt, leave his home and his job and the city he’d spent his whole life in. He could give Evan up to the cops, a violation of everything he’d grown up believing. Or he could help Evan and risk his relationship, his self-respect, even his freedom.

Dad appeared as he counted the last option, square jaw set in a disapproving grimace.

“I know,” Danny said. “I know. I’m just thinking, okay?”

After the accident, Dad had started coming pretty regularly. Danny would wake up in Cook County Prison to find him perched on the edge of the bunk. Or riding shotgun as he went to meet Evan for a job. He’d stopped coming about the time Danny went straight, seven years back. But now, poof, there he was again, one arm propped on the back of the chair, his left hand tapping the table, the white ridge of the old circular-saw scar flexing. Danny rarely imagined him talking, but just like in life, his eyes spoke volumes.

“You know what I need, Pops?” Danny said. “A joker.”

The trick to problem solving, he’d found, was to look at it like a deck of cards. At a glance, an implacable rectangle. But fan them out, start looking at the options, and you could usually find a way. Best of all was the wild card, the one that didn’t figure into normal play. The joker was the solution people didn’t think of, the one that gave you an edge.

Only problem was, no matter how much he shuffled and redealt, he kept coming up with nothing but minor variations of the same four tired options. He couldn’t see a way that didn’t risk everything he cared about. A way that didn’t let his past poison his future.

His father stopped tapping, tilted his hand back to check his fingernails, his silence judgmental.

Danny glared. “Ahh, what do you know? You’re dead.”

He put his father out of his head and went back to shuffling. He was still at the table two hours later, when Karen wandered in. She wore a white baby-doll tee and panties, rubbed sleep from her eyes with one hand. “You feeling okay?” she asked.

He nodded, told her he wanted to get a few things done around the house. She poured coffee and slid into a chair, her fingers cupped around the mug for warmth. “Nice,” she yawned, “seeing Patrick the other night.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.”

She sipped her coffee, gave a loud sigh of pleasure. “Hey, what were you guys laughing about?”

“Just that – well, Patrick thinks it’s funny the way you try to set him up. He thinks you’re trying to save him.”

She smiled. “I guess I am.”

“He’s okay, Kar. He’s happy.”

“I know. I realize I can be kind of a bitch about him. Stupid of me, but I sometimes hold it against him that he’s still – you know. I don’t care how he makes his money, it’s just…”

“I know, babe.”

“Anyway, I was thinking about it last night, and I decided that was dumb. He’s your friend, and that’s that. I mean, I know you aren’t going back.”

He kept his gaze level while heart and head warred. He wanted to tell her about Evan, about everything, just spill it. Take comfort in her arms, and talk it over together. Maybe she’d help him find his joker.

Or maybe she’d decide it was time to fold the hand. She’d made only one ultimatum in their whole relationship – if he took up the life again, she was gone for good.

“So,” she continued, “I’m going to try to be adult, and not hold it against Patrick.”

He felt dirty but kept his tone light. “I think he’d be happy if you’d just stop trying to set him up.”

“Okay. Though he really should meet Jenny.”

Despite everything – despite himself – he laughed.

She stood, walked to his side of the table, and slid onto his lap, one arm around his shoulders. Her face still bore faint red marks from the pillow, and the coffee barely covered her morning breath, but even so, she glowed. “I love you, babe.”

His heart swelled in a way that made it hard to speak, and he kissed her instead, held her to him, soft and warm. When she climbed off his lap and padded away, he watched her go, her bare feet dirty, a faint sway to her hips.

He waited until he heard the shower, then went to the phone on the counter and dialed. Some decks didn’t have a joker.

“Could I please speak to Sean Nolan?”

The diner was a storefront on West Belmont, tucked in among auto repair shops and warehouses. Across the street three-flats bore upscale real estate logos in anticipation of the day when Wicker Park and Lakeview were finally and irrefutably full, though now there were more signs than tenants. Inside, fluorescent lights shone brightly off the fake wood paneling and cash register. A bald cook, not fat but Chicago-big, worked the grill.

Nolan sat halfway down the chipped counter, peering suspiciously at a laminated menu and twisting his wedding ring. He wore his brown suit too well to have a bulletproof vest beneath.

“Hello, Sean.”

“Danny.” The greeting was neutral, offering no clues. His eyes were watery and marked with crow’s feet, but he looked good.

“Long time.”

“Ten years? Since you picked Marty Frisk up outta holding for that D-and-D.”

Danny shook his head. “I saw you a couple of years ago, when you were still a regular cop.”

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t see me. You were coming out of a 7-Eleven in the Loop.”

“Why didn’t you say hello?”

Because he was too freshly clean. Because his new life hadn’t taken hold. Because he was afraid Sean’s gaze would cut him to ribbons, would confirm he was just a thief with an upscale address.

“I hollered. You must not’ve heard.”

The cop grunted. Danny slid onto the Naugahyde stool, turned his coffee cup upward to signal the cook. The smell of bacon sizzling on the grill tightened his stomach.

Was he crazy, sitting down with Nolan – Detective Nolan – to solve a problem? All his street responses told him yes.

On the other hand, look where his street responses had gotten him.

The cook came over, coffeepot in one hand, spatula in the other. Danny asked for a BLT. Nolan ordered egg whites, skim milk, and wheat toast.

“I heard you got married.”

“Yeah,” Nolan said. “Two kids, a boy and a girl.”

“Still in the neighborhood?”

“My folks moved to Beverly ten years ago, and Mary-Louise and I followed when we had Tracy. It’s nice. No gangs, everybody shows up to cheer the St. Patty’s parade. Sundays I smoke a cigar and water my lawn. You want to see pictures, or you going to tell me why I’m sitting here?”

Danny sipped his coffee. It tasted sharp. “You know I left the neighborhood, too.”

“So I hear.”

“I work in construction, as a project manager. I’ve got a place in Lakeview, second floor in a graystone. Nothing fancy, but it’s mine, you know?”

Nolan nodded slightly, betraying nothing.

“It’s nice to have made a place for myself. Something…” He hesitated, old habits making him nervous admitting anything. “Legitimate.”

The cook set their order in front of them on white plastic plates, then snapped the grease off the spatula, set it down, and walked to the end of the counter. Nolan forked egg onto his toast, took a bite. His cool refusal to get involved irked Danny.

“I thought cops liked doughnuts.” Trying to engage the guy, not piss him off, his tone playful.

“I thought criminals stayed criminals.”

Danny laughed. “I guess we’re both wrong.”

Nolan gave him a slow, appraising look. “Maybe.”

The coffee may not have been much to brag about, but the BLT was delicious. Danny took another bite before he spoke. “Funny thing. When I started working construction, you know what I realized? Being a thief actually helped me out.”

“How’s that?”

“Little ways. Knowing how to bargain, negotiate. Being able to plan. Mostly, though, to be good at either, you had to know when to take risks.”

“That’s what you’re doing here? Taking a risk?”

Danny nodded.

“Because I’m the police.” Pronouncing it “poh-lease.”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re not clean.”

“Oh, I’m hundred-proof. Go to work, pay my taxes. I’m a civilian.”

Nolan shrugged. “So why buy me breakfast? Just to tell me that?”

Danny’s stomach felt sour. “I’ve got a problem.”

The other man took another forkful of eggs, content to wait him out.

You came to dance, kid. “Someone is harassing me. Following me around. My girlfriend, Karen, I think he’s watching her, too. Friday, he broke into our apartment.”

That got the detective’s attention. “He steal anything?”

“No. He was waiting for me.”

Nolan’s eyes narrowed. “Waiting to do what?”

“To talk. To threaten us.”

“So this is somebody you know.”

Danny nodded.

“You file a report?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Danny took another swallow of bitter coffee. “You know how much response an ex-felon gets when he yells for help?”

“Why do you think you’ll get more here?”

It was a question Danny had been afraid to consider too closely. Nolan was three, four years older, and while they’d had mutual friends – no way to avoid it, growing up Irish in a South Side neighborhood that belonged to them less every day – they’d never been close. But even when Nolan had gone off to the academy, and the rest of his friends had started to speak of him with contempt, Danny had remained respectful. No point pissing the guy off, he’d thought then. No point attracting his attention.

It was a thin rationale to pin his hopes on, and he knew it. But it was Nolan or nobody. What was he going to do, call 911? He didn’t have anything to tell them, not really, and he knew police procedure well enough to know he didn’t want the attention. Karen knew about his past, sure, and Patrick, but as far as the rest of the world was concerned, Danny had always been in construction. He’d lied to get his first shot as a yard hand – plenty of people did, mostly Latins without papers – but he’d risen to a point where that kind of attention could hurt. How would Richard react to find he’d trusted the management of his business to a man with two felony counts?

And that was assuming things went well. He could suffer much worse than damage to his reputation. If Evan dimed him out on the pawnshop, he’d face charges. Lose his job, his freedom, maybe even Karen. Set himself back seven years – more, when you counted however long he spent in jail.

Which made this discussion even more delicate. Danny was counting on Nolan’s discretion, a dicey prospect at best. The thought made his stomach burn acid. “We don’t owe each other anything, I know that. But I’ve been spotless for years. Worked my way up same as you, same as anybody. I didn’t ask any favors doing it – I did it on my own, and I did it square.” He hesitated. “I’m worried. For myself, for Karen, for…” He stopped himself. No need to mention Richard or Tommy.

Nolan set down his fork, looked over for the first time, his eyes searching Danny’s face as if looking for clues. “What aren’t you telling me?”

The flush in his gut worsened. He broke off a piece of bacon, munched slowly. Didn’t taste it. Point of no return. Once he crossed this line, he’d be giving up the last bit of honor among thieves. Chips on the table, kid.

“It’s Evan McGann.”

Nolan was silent for a moment. He turned back to his plate, stabbed a forkful of eggs and passed them into his mouth, chewing vigorously. When he was done, he turned to look at Danny.

And burst out laughing.

“I’m not kidding, Sean.” Danny’s knuckles went white on the edge of the counter. He felt like he might slide off the stool and right off the face of the planet.

“Oh, I believe you.” His face was red with hilarity, the freckles a scattering of dark buckshot. Danny stared in silence, the seconds passing, the pressure in his stomach mounting. The laughter finally wound down. Still merry, Nolan shoveled up the last of his eggs, speaking around a mouthful of them, flecks of egg spattering. “Time to pay the piper, eh Carter?”

Danny’s heart fell. Nolan wouldn’t help him more than any other cop would. He’d crossed the line for nothing. “Sean.” He kept his voice level and quiet. “We’re scared. Evan’s not messing about.”

“I bet. Probably a little pissed about his last fall, yeah? ’Course, you wouldn’t know anything about that. You weren’t there, right?”

Danny forced himself to stare at the detective. “I was always small-time. You know that. For chrissake, we grew up in the same neighborhood.”

“Bullshit.” Nolan’s face went from the red of laughter to a more dangerous shade. “Bullshit, Danny. Don’t lay that on me.”

“You won’t help.”

“Help you what? Your old partner is back in town, wants something from you? You’re in construction, right? So what’s he want?”

Danny said nothing.

“Yeah, I thought so. What, is he after some old score you spent instead of splitting? Or just pissed you bailed on him? You were in the pawnshop, weren’t you?”

The answer would be inadmissible, but Danny didn’t see any point in speaking.

“You crack me up, you really do. You’re clean? Good for you. Most people have been their whole lives. You want special treatment because you mended your ways?”

“The same treatment would be nice.”

“A citizen would call in and have a squad car come by, get the whole story. You can’t do that, can you?”

Danny shook his head.

“And that tells me all I need to know. Time to pay the fucking consequences. Overdue, if you ask me.”

“Sean-”

“It’s ‘Detective.’” Nolan stood, brushing crumbs from his pants. “And Danny, word to the wise. Since you called me, I’m not going to make much of this. I got better things to do than dig in decade-old robberies. But I’m gonna watch you. If you make one move out of line, and I mean one tiny little step, I’m going to pack your Irish ass off to Stateville. Where you belong.” He tossed the crumpled napkin to the counter. “Thanks for breakfast.”

The bell tinkled as he walked out, leaving Danny alone at the counter, officially between worlds. He put his head in his hands and sighed. In that moment, if he’d been given the chance, he might have taken back his whole life.