Cold Shot to the Heart (3 page)

Alone in the dark, she drank wine and watched the snow.

THREE

When Eddie the Saint walked out of the halfway house for the last time, Terry Trudeau was leaning on the fender of a primer-gray El Camino parked out in front, smoking a cigarette.

Light snow was blowing around, the cracked sidewalk already covered with it. Eddie zipped his state-issue windbreaker higher, shifted the bulging trash bag on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Terry said. “I thought they were never gonna let you out of there.”

Eddie looked at the El Camino, slowly shook his head. Terry's smile faded.

“Five years inside,” Eddie said. “And you expect me to ride out of here in that piece of shit?”

“It's the only—”

“Come over here.”

Eddie caught him around the neck, pulled him close. Terry struggled, but Eddie held him there, kissed the top of his head, then pushed him away one-handed. He fell back against the El Camino.

“How long you been out here?”

“Half hour maybe.” Terry flicked the cigarette away, raised his hands. Eddie tossed the bag at him.

“Careful with that. You got my whole life in there.”

The last time Eddie had seen him, he had a mohawk. Now his hair was short and ragged. He was thinner, wore a sleeveless denim jacket over a hooded sweatshirt. His right eyebrow was pierced.

“Let's get out of here,” Terry said. “This place makes me nervous.”

Eddie went around to the passenger side. Terry got in, stowed the bag behind the seat, leaned over and popped the door lock.

Eddie looked back at the building where he'd spent the last six months; brick walls, bars on the windows. A black kid with dreadlocks stood outside, smoking a cigarette, watching them. Eddie stared at him until he looked away.

Terry started the engine, exhaust coughing up white in the cold air. Eddie got in. When they pulled away from the curb, Terry said, “How's it feel?”

“It feels good. Drive.”

He looked out the window at Newark going by; warehouses, industrial lots with razor-wire fences, blocks of crumbling brownstones. Bare trees, piled garbage.

Terry took a pack of Kools from a jacket pocket, held it out.

“I quit,” Eddie said. “Inside. You got any heat in this bitch?”

“Sure.” Terry worked the dashboard control, and warm air blew from the vents. He shook a cigarette from the pack, a slight tremor in his hand, fumbled with the lighter.

“I make you nervous?” Eddie said.

“What do you mean?”

“You need a cigarette to calm your nerves?”

“No, I just…”

“Then put 'em away.”

Terry tried to fit the cigarette back in the pack, bent it.

“What have you been doing with yourself?” Eddie said.

“Getting by. Worked construction for a while, until things slowed down.”

“Construction? You used to be a pretty good burglar. What happened?”

“I haven't done that in a long time, Eddie. I'm out of the game.”

“Bullshit. What do you do now?”

“Day work. Whatever comes up.”

“Sounds like you're letting your skills go to waste.” Eddie reached over, flicked his eyebrow ring. “What's this?”

Terry tilted his head away.

“Aren't you worried someone'll come up to you on the street,” Eddie said, “rip that thing out?”

“No one's gonna do that.”

“ 'Cause you're a badass?”

“I didn't say that.”

“It looks like shit.”

Terry grew silent.

“Sorry,” Eddie said. He looked out the window. “It's been a long five years. My social skills are a little rusty.”

“It's all right. Where we going?”

“Head south on the Turnpike. I'll tell you when to stop.”

“You need to check in with a PO? After you get settled?”

“I'm not on paper anymore, kid. That's why I spent six months in that shithole. No PO. No dropping samples. None of that. I'm free and clear.”

“You got a place to crash?”

“Didn't you see me just walk out that door? I got nothing.”

“Thing is … I'm with Angie now.”

“Who's Angie?”

“My old lady. We live together.”

“Where?”

“Keansburg. There's not much room, though, you know?”

“Don't worry about it. I'll find a motel.”

They were in the Turnpike truck lanes, passing refineries, high-tension towers, oil storage tanks.

“If she wasn't there…” Terry said.

“I said don't worry about it.”

A tractor-trailer hurtled by, the El Camino quaking in its slipstream. They passed a warehouse with a billboard that read
WELCOME TO CARTERET
.

“What was it like?” Terry said.

“What?”

“Inside. Was it different this time? I mean, different than it was for us?”

“Same as always. Same bullshit. You do your own time, mind your own business. Just like I taught you.”

“Niggers give you a hard time?”

“Not more than once.”

“I would have come to see you, but…”

“Leave it.”

Darkness to the east now, the night coming fast.

“Where do you want to go?” Terry said. “There's motels on the Turnpike, but the ones on Route Thirty-five might be cheaper.”

“Keep driving. Couple stops I want to make first.”

“I told Angie I'd be back by seven. She's not feeling so hot, so I don't like to leave her by herself. She's been throwing up, can hardly stand without getting nauseous.”

“What's wrong, she's so sick you can't leave her alone?”

“She's pregnant.”

Eddie shook his head, looked out the window. “And both of you tweakers, right? Outstanding.”

“I don't tweak anymore, Eddie. I'm trying to leave that shit behind.”

“Whatever. Pull into that rest stop ahead. I want to use the phone.”

“I've got a cell.”

“I want a pay phone. But while I'm doing that, you can call your old lady.”

“Why?”

“To tell her you're not going to make it.”

*   *   *

They were parked on a long stretch of road lined with junkyards and auto body shops, all dark. In the distance, burn-off flares from a refinery lit the sky every few minutes, bursts of blue and yellow flame that made the clouds glow.

“I turned fifty-five inside,” Eddie said. “Did you know that?”

“Shit, Eddie, no.”

“Yeah, in August. I was one of the oldest motherfuckers in that place, except for the lifers. Fifty-five years old, and beating off in a six-by-ten cell. And even that wasn't giving me any pleasure after a while. Nothing was. Some life, huh?”

Flames glowed against the windshield, faded.

“Tell me again about Casco,” Eddie said. “What exactly did he say?”

“Just what I wrote you. That he didn't know me, wouldn't deal with me.”

“You told him I sent you?”

“Of course.”

“Then that should have been it.”

“Hell, Eddie. He
didn't
know me. I don't blame him.”

Eddie looked at his watch. It was almost eight.

“What are you going to do?” Terry said.

“Get my money.”

“Christ, Eddie, you just got out a couple hours ago. What's the rush?”

“Relax, kid. There's not going to be any trouble. We're all reasonable men.”

“How do you know he's there?”

“He's there.”

Eddie opened his door. “Come on,” he said. “Let's take a walk.”

*   *   *

The
L&C AUTOBODY
sign was dark, but there were lights in the office, someone moving around inside. A flatbed tow truck and a Cadillac were parked out front.

They stood behind the tow truck, away from the light of the streetlamp, cold wind blowing around them.

“He know you're coming?” Terry said.

Eddie didn't answer. A mile away, traffic trundled by on an elevated stretch of turnpike.

“I mean, you called to tell him, right?”

“You should lay off that crank, it makes you squirrelly.”

Lights began to go off inside.

Eddie looked around, saw an empty Heineken bottle stuck in a pile of dark snow. He pulled it loose, brushed it clean, wished he had gloves.

Casco came out, a big man in an overcoat, scarf, and hat, and turned to lock the door.

“Wait here,” Eddie said and crossed the lot silently. He came up behind Casco, pressed the mouth of the bottle into his back.

“Unlock it again,” he said.

Casco froze.

“There's nothing in the office,” he said, calm. “We don't do cash business here.”

“Unlock it, go on in. Key in the security code. Get it right the first time.”

“Eddie? Is that you?”

“Do it.”

Casco worked the key in the lock again, opened the door. Eddie pushed him through.

“Code,” he said.

The keypad on the wall was blinking red. Casco punched in numbers until there was a faint beep. The light on the keypad turned green.

“Go on through,” Eddie said.

“Is this necessary?” He didn't turn.

“Inside.” Eddie twisted the bottle. “Your office locked?”

“Yes.”

“There another alarm?”

“No.”

“Unlock it.”

Casco used his keys, opened the door. Eddie walked him in, found the wall switch. Fluorescent bulbs hummed and flickered. Cheap paneling, a metal desk, a gray safe in one corner. Photos of racehorses on the walls.

“What is that?” Casco said. “It's not a pistol.”

“It's my dick,” Eddie said and pushed him forward lightly. Casco turned, saw the bottle.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie.” He let his breath out. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.” Eddie smiled, put the bottle on the desk. “I saw you out there locking up, couldn't resist.”

“I thought you were some junkie.” He took off his hat, set it on the desk. “You should have called. I could have met you somewhere.”

“I did.”

“That was you before? Called and hung up? What was that about?”

“Just wanted to make sure you were here. I was passing by, thought I'd stop in.”

“When did you get out?”

“About two hours ago.”

“And I'm the first person you came to see? I'm honored.”

He loosened his coat and scarf, sat heavily in the rolling chair behind the desk.

Eddie looked out, saw Terry peering through the front door, motioned him in.

“Who's out there?” Casco said.

“My partner. You've met him.”

“If you say so. You know, it's good to see you and all. But really, that wasn't cool.”

“Sorry.”

Terry came in, stood in the doorway. Casco said, “Do me a favor, ace. Lock that front door. I don't want anyone walking in off the street.”

Terry looked at Eddie. He nodded. Terry went back out.

Casco opened a bottom drawer, took out a bottle of Johnny Walker Black and three plastic glasses.

“Just so you know,” he said. “I'm supposed to take Louise out to dinner in the city at nine. We've got reservations.”

“Plenty of time.” Eddie leaned back against the wall, hands behind him, bounced slightly on the paneling. Casco poured, held the bottle over the third glass, looked up at him. Eddie nodded. Casco poured, capped the bottle again.

When Terry came back in, Casco lifted his glass.
“Salut.”

They drank. It was the first real liquor Eddie had tasted in five years. It went down smooth and warm. Terry coughed.

“What's wrong, kid?” Casco said. “You never had the good stuff before?”

Eddie finished the Scotch, felt the glow spread inside him. He set the glass down. Casco filled it again, then his own.

“So,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“I'm here for my money.”

Casco nodded, sat back. “Your money.”

“That's right.”

“Not a problem. I just need to call my broker, then get to the bank. If you need it all up front, I'll move some around first thing Monday morning, get you a cashier's check.”

“Nah.” Eddie shook his head, picked up the refilled glass. “Tonight.”

“You're shitting me, right?”

“Why would I do that?”

“It's eight o' clock on a Friday. How am I supposed to get your money?”

Eddie drank Scotch, leaned back against the wall.

Casco crossed his arms. “Eddie, with all due respect, I invested that money, as I told you I would. I didn't just bury it in the backyard someplace, where I can dig it up, hand it over.”

“Invested where? How?”

“Lots of things. I can show you all the paperwork, the statements. I treated it like I would my own money. I'm a businessman, Eddie, not a bank. I told you that when you gave it to me.”

“Forty K.” He swirled the remaining Scotch.

“That's what it was,” Casco said. “But that was five years ago, Eddie. A lot has changed since then.”

“What's that mean?”

“I forget, you've been away. Look, we both took a beating.”

“Explain that.”

“Christ, Eddie. Even in Rahway you must have heard about what went on in the market. Shit, I know people who lost their whole life savings. Their 401(k)s, pensions, everything. Everybody got hammered.”

“How much did you lose?”

“A lot. But that's not the point.”

Eddie drank the rest of the Scotch.

“Look,” Casco said. “We talked about this when you brought it to me. Before you went in. You knew I was going to put that money to work. You were all for it.”

“And now I'm out.”

“Eddie, how simply do I have to explain this?”

“Don't fucking patronize me.”