Valediction

CHAPTER 21

I walked back from Linda's apartment in the hot morning feeling somehow encapsulated, as if a fine high keening surrounded me, and the pavement were undulant and somewhat insubstantial. The space in which I moved seemed crystalline and empty. What I felt was shock. To feel for someone other than Susan what I had felt for Linda was so startling that the world seemed unlike the one I'd walked in yesterday morning. The Quincy Market area was nearly empty at that time of day. Newly scrubbed and shining, its shops and restaurants freshly open, full of promise. Hopeful.

In front of my apartment on Marlborough Street, Vinnie Morris was parked on a hydrant, the motor idling, the windows of his TransAm rolled up. He lowered one of them. "Get in," he said, "we'll have breakfast."

I got in the passenger side. Vinnie raised the window and the air-conditioning took care of what little warm air I had brought in with me.

"You look like you been out all night," Vinnie said. He was a medium-size man, very compact, very neat. He had a thick black mustache and he smelled of musk oil, though modestly.

"Yes," I said.

We drove around the Public Garden and down Charles Street. Vinnie jammed the TransAm up onto the sidewalk on the corner of Charles and Mt. Vernon streets and we went into the Paramount Restaurant. I ordered whole wheat toast, Vinnie ordered steak and eggs.

"Breakfast is important," Vinnie said.

I nodded. "Got to keep that cholesterol level up."

Vinnie said, "Aw, bullshit."

We brought our food to a table, and sat.

I drank some coffee. The world still echoed strangely around me, and the intrusion of Vinnie, the intrusion of the world in which I worked and lived, was jarring.

Vinnie with a gun, Vinnie who spoke for Joe Broz, or kille for Joe Broz, was for me the ordinary, the workaday. I felt as if my footing were unsure as if the earth were slippery.

"You were asking about Mickey Paultz, Vinnie said. He drank some coffee and put th cup down. His movements were careful an economical and precise. His nails were manicured.

"Yes."

"Tell me a little about why you want to know."

"I'm looking into a religious group called the Reorganized Church of the Redemption. I noticed it has made a number of large low interest loans to the Paultz Construction Company."

Vinnie was watching me carefully. He nodded.

"After I had asked the head of this religious group about the loans, about where they got money for the loans, a couple of meanies came around and told me to butt out, or else."

"Scared you right off, didn't they," Vinni said.

"They drove off in a car registered to Pault Construction."

"Don't mean Paultz is dirty," Vinnie said. "Maybe these guys were just a couple shovel operators on a slow day. Maybe Paultz is buddies with the church guy."

"These were hoods, Vinnie. And the thing is, the church shows no visible source of income. Where they get the money to lend Paultz?"

Vinnie cut into his steak. "The faithful?"

I shook my head. "No. They receive money from the church, not the other way around."

"Church pays them to be members?"

"A stipend, for work," I said. "So where's the money come from?"

Vinnie smiled his careful smile and chewed his steak. He ate in small bites, chewing thoroughly. He swallowed. "You have a theory," he said.

"I say Paultz is dirty, he's making dirt, money, and he's laundering it through the church."

Vinnie nodded. "Makes sense. He make money under the table, donates it anonymously to this church, they lend it back to him at a low rate. He invests it at a higher one, or uses it to build property and sells it at a profit and the money he gets is shiny clean. Maybe Joe will found a church."

Vinnie ate some more. I drank my coffee and ate half a piece of toast.

"Heroin," Vinnie said. I was quiet.

"Mickey Paultz processes most of the skag that gets sold in New England," Vinnie said.

"How nice for him," I said. "Where does he do the processing?"

"Warehouse on the construction lot."

"You folks do business with Mickey?"

"You want to do dope business, you do it with Mickey. We do, Tony Marcus does, Worcester, Providence."

"Would it break your heart if someone put Mickey away and left the business up for grabs?"

Vinnie smiled. "Nature hates a vacuum, buddy boy."

"And so does Joe Broz."

Vinnie patted his mouth with a napkin. "Joe says you need some help on this, we'll help, up to a point."

"Why don't you just waste Paultz," I said.

"And move in, sort of like a proxy fight?" Vinnie shrugged. "Mickey's connections are good," he said. "Joe don't want to do it that way."

"So he wants me to do it," I said.

"He wants it done. You called us, you know. We didn't call you."

"If I do this right, maybe I can get my own territory," I said. "Couple of junior high schools . . . "Hi, kids, I'm the candy man.' "

"I don't like it too much either, tell you the truth," Vinnie said, "but Joe don't always check with me on these things. Joe likes dope. And you and me both know if Mickey Paultz don't do it, and Joe don't do it, then somebody else will do it."

"So I take Paultz out, Joe moves in, and I look the other way."

Vinnie smiled and jabbed his right index finger at me. "Most definitely," he said. "We get what we want, you get what you want, and all the junkies get what they want. What could be better?"

I shook my head. "Hard to imagine," I said.