soft.
I turned my head and the girl was digging her hands into the grass bordering the sidewalk to my right.
I said, “Hey, quit—”
She flung another clump at me. She had good aim. This one hit me in the chin, some of the dirt went down my shirt. I backed away, putting up my arms to block the next one.
But she’d found an empty quart bottle of Colt 45 malt liquor on the verge. Before she threw it I took off running. The bottle shattered at my heels.
My last look back, she was kneeling beside him in the road, cradling his head in her dirt-blackened hands. I had to admit they made a perfect couple.
When I got back to the agency car, my relief was waiting. Except he was anything but, a relief that is. He’d come early and found the car empty. For a beefy guy he had a surprisingly high-pitched voice as he laid into me.
I looked over at the closed door in the brick wall. It was still closed. I doubted it had opened while I was gone, doubted it would ever open. But that wasn’t the point, I understood that—whatever this surveillance had been meant to prove, I’d invalidated it and all the man-hours put into it. But I didn’t need this guy screeching at me like a macaw parrot on crack.
I snicked open the baton again and held it up in front of his face. I wasn’t going to hit him or anything, I just wanted him to shut the fuck up, and he did. I gave him the car keys. I closed the baton and handed it to him (I’d gotten it from the car’s glove compartment), and then I walked away as he started shrieking at me again in his whiny falsetto.
Matt didn’t shout when I called and told him all about it later that morning. He didn’t even swear, which was the worst sign of all; Matt Chadinsky couldn’t whistle without cursing.
I got my last check from Metro the very next day. It was messengered to me, probably costing more than what I got paid, but the messenger was the message. I was out for good and no mistake about it. The end.
Chapter Nine: YOU CAN’T PLAY IF YOU DON’T WIN
Matt yanked my noggin back to the present.
“ So you going to fucking tell me what this is all about?”
“ I already did.”
“ No, all you did was hand me a load of bullshit, nothing that justifies you leaving Owl lying in the street. He deserved more respect than you showed him, you shitstain. George Rowell had friends in this city. Important friends. You better pray Moe Fedel doesn’t catch wind of it, if he hasn’t already.”
“ I’m not afraid of Fedel.”
“ Yeh, well you never were that bright, kid.”
“ Does…did Owl have any family? Who’ll claim his body?”
“ No. No family. He was an orphan, never married.”
I took out my wallet, showed him the photograph of Owl and the girl. “So this isn’t him and a granddaughter then? How ’bout a niece? Does the name Elena mean anything to you?”
“ What have you gone, deaf? I told you, no family. The guys in the business, that’s all he had, and that’s who’s gonna have to send him off. Owl lived for the job, always did.”
“ And died for it.”
Matt stared at the picture of Owl, maybe lost in his own memories of the last time they saw each other, but my words finally sank in. He looked up.
“ What’s that fucking supposed to mean?”
“ What did your guy at the precinct say about Owl’s death? Everything kosher?”
“ Kosher? Shit. Yeh, no meat and dairy mixed. Kosher!”
“ Nothing off about it then?”
“ I didn’t ask. You told me it was a fucking accident.”
“ It was, but…”
“ But what?”
“ Owl was here working on something. A case for an ‘old friend,’ he said. He got a room at the Bowery Plaza two days ago. What’s he been up to since? You’re one of his oldest friends, didn’t he contact you?” Matt had trained under Owl much the way I’d trained under Matt.
He
I turned my head and the girl was digging her hands into the grass bordering the sidewalk to my right.
I said, “Hey, quit—”
She flung another clump at me. She had good aim. This one hit me in the chin, some of the dirt went down my shirt. I backed away, putting up my arms to block the next one.
But she’d found an empty quart bottle of Colt 45 malt liquor on the verge. Before she threw it I took off running. The bottle shattered at my heels.
My last look back, she was kneeling beside him in the road, cradling his head in her dirt-blackened hands. I had to admit they made a perfect couple.
When I got back to the agency car, my relief was waiting. Except he was anything but, a relief that is. He’d come early and found the car empty. For a beefy guy he had a surprisingly high-pitched voice as he laid into me.
I looked over at the closed door in the brick wall. It was still closed. I doubted it had opened while I was gone, doubted it would ever open. But that wasn’t the point, I understood that—whatever this surveillance had been meant to prove, I’d invalidated it and all the man-hours put into it. But I didn’t need this guy screeching at me like a macaw parrot on crack.
I snicked open the baton again and held it up in front of his face. I wasn’t going to hit him or anything, I just wanted him to shut the fuck up, and he did. I gave him the car keys. I closed the baton and handed it to him (I’d gotten it from the car’s glove compartment), and then I walked away as he started shrieking at me again in his whiny falsetto.
Matt didn’t shout when I called and told him all about it later that morning. He didn’t even swear, which was the worst sign of all; Matt Chadinsky couldn’t whistle without cursing.
I got my last check from Metro the very next day. It was messengered to me, probably costing more than what I got paid, but the messenger was the message. I was out for good and no mistake about it. The end.
Chapter Nine: YOU CAN’T PLAY IF YOU DON’T WIN
Matt yanked my noggin back to the present.
“ So you going to fucking tell me what this is all about?”
“ I already did.”
“ No, all you did was hand me a load of bullshit, nothing that justifies you leaving Owl lying in the street. He deserved more respect than you showed him, you shitstain. George Rowell had friends in this city. Important friends. You better pray Moe Fedel doesn’t catch wind of it, if he hasn’t already.”
“ I’m not afraid of Fedel.”
“ Yeh, well you never were that bright, kid.”
“ Does…did Owl have any family? Who’ll claim his body?”
“ No. No family. He was an orphan, never married.”
I took out my wallet, showed him the photograph of Owl and the girl. “So this isn’t him and a granddaughter then? How ’bout a niece? Does the name Elena mean anything to you?”
“ What have you gone, deaf? I told you, no family. The guys in the business, that’s all he had, and that’s who’s gonna have to send him off. Owl lived for the job, always did.”
“ And died for it.”
Matt stared at the picture of Owl, maybe lost in his own memories of the last time they saw each other, but my words finally sank in. He looked up.
“ What’s that fucking supposed to mean?”
“ What did your guy at the precinct say about Owl’s death? Everything kosher?”
“ Kosher? Shit. Yeh, no meat and dairy mixed. Kosher!”
“ Nothing off about it then?”
“ I didn’t ask. You told me it was a fucking accident.”
“ It was, but…”
“ But what?”
“ Owl was here working on something. A case for an ‘old friend,’ he said. He got a room at the Bowery Plaza two days ago. What’s he been up to since? You’re one of his oldest friends, didn’t he contact you?” Matt had trained under Owl much the way I’d trained under Matt.
He
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