Hooligans (39 page)

limp and there was about him a bug-eyed, almost haunted look. It was a look I had seen many times

before, eyes full of fear of what they might see next—or had already seen. He limped toward the front

of the car and leaned against the hood. He didn‟t do or say anything, just leaned against the hood.

The goon squad turned like robots and marched back inside the arena.

“Luke Burger, the sheriff‟s man,” said Zapata. “He‟s only got one good leg but he can kick the shit

out of a rhino with it.”

“What happened to him?” I asked.

“What! heard,” said Mufalatta, “he was chasing a bootlegger on his hog, lost it going over South

River Bridge, took a header over the railing, and went through the roof of some public housing two

stories down. I hear it took them six months to glue him back together. One of his legs ended up three

inches shorter than the other.”

Zapata said, “I also heard Titan covered all the bills his insurance didn‟t take care of.”

Graves‟ man sauntered back to his boss‟s Lincoln and passed a roll of bills through the window.

All of a sudden it was business as usual.

“I had enough of this party for one night,” Zapata said. “1 think I‟ll just haul my ass outta here. You

comin‟, Kilmer?”

“I think it‟s time for me to have a chat with Mr. Stoney,” I said.

“I‟ll stick around,” the Kid said. “I get a bang outta surprises. Take the pickup. I‟ll go back with

Kilmer.”

I walked toward the black Cadillac. Behind me, I heard the big-wheel scratch off in the sand. As I

neared Titan‟s car, his man opened the back door.

“Get in,” Titan‟s crusty voice said from the back seat.

I got in.

“You got more guts than a slaughterhouse floor, doughboy,” he said, “but a sparrow‟s got more

brains.”

He sat forward, almost on the edge of the seat, his legs tucked close to the black cane, his gimlet eyes

glittering like diamonds. When he wanted, his voice had the lilt of Irish flavoured with molasses, a

voice you listened to and wanted to believe. It could also be as tough as a cowhand‟s behind.

“I‟ve heard you‟re a smart cop,” he said quietly. “Very savvy, they say. I can believe that. You were a

helluva good ballplayer. Too bad about the foot.”

“It was my ankle.”

“Foot, ankle, what‟s the difference? So you remember me, eh?”

“Hell, Mr. Stoney, who could forget you? I remember everything. That was one hell of a summer.”

“It‟s a dead and buried summer. Best you forget it or move

on.

I didn‟t respond to his veiled threat, I just listened.

“I know everything that happens in this town, this county. If a cow fails, I know it. I‟ve had my eye on

you since you got off the plane. You been havin‟ quite a time for yourself.”

“Just doing my job,” I said.

“I could get you recalled with a phone call, doughboy. You got yourself way off base.”

“Seems to me that‟s my business.”

“Don‟t be a dreamer. Best you forget the past and get on with your work. In the first place, you don‟t

even have the credentials. Besides, she‟s a happy woman, just gets a little lonely.”

“Did Chief send you to—”

“Chief doesn‟t know you‟re here. If he did, I doubt he‟d remember you. He‟s still livin‟ in 1969.

Teddy‟s death destroyed him.”

“It didn‟t do a helluva lot for Teddy either.”

“You gonna turn out to be a smartass?”

“I was with him when he died. That kind of thing stays with you.”

“I saw the letter,” he said. He was staring straight ahead, not looking at me or anything else in

particular.

I gave him my hardest stare. “You never did like me, did you, Mr. Stoney? You never thought I was

good enough for her.”

“I told you what! thought,” he said. “You were a good halfback until you got busted up. After that..

He let the sentence dwindle away. Fill in the blanks.

“It was all part of watching out for Dunetown, right? Like you‟re doing now. Sticking your nose in

my business again.”

He looked at me and his lip curled up on one side.

“You found your level, doughboy,” he said.

“Just like you, right?”

He sat for a few beats more and then, without looking at me, he said, “Harry Raines has a brilliant

future. It wouldn‟t do for his wife to be caught screwin‟ around with a cop.”

“Or anybody else,” I added.

“There ain‟t anybody else, doughboy.”

“How about Tony Lukatis?”

His eyes narrowed. “You sure been busy prying into things that don‟t matter.”

“That makes two of us. Besides, you brought the subject up,” I said. “Seems to me everybody‟s

awfully concerned about Harry Raines‟ future and nobody particularly gives a damn about his wife.”

“She ain‟t runnin‟ for office.”

“That‟s all it‟s about, running for office?”

“Look, don‟t go making a monkey of yourself. She‟s vulnerable right now. I‟d hate to think you were

takin‟ advantage of the situation.”

“You‟ve got a lot of time invested in him, don‟t you?” I pressed on.

His eyes continued to twinkle, even in the subdued interior of the limo. He nodded his head sharply.

“Bet your ass I do,” he said.

“I can understand your concern.”

“Hasn‟t a damn thing to do with that. Chief and Doe are family to me. I won‟t stand by and see either

of them hurt.”

“I wasn‟t planning on it.”

“Anything else would be tomfoolery,” he snapped. The molasses in his tone had changed to flint.

“Could be there‟s more to it than that,” I suggested.

“Now what the hell‟s that supposed to mean?”

“How long do you think you can keep this under the table? How long can Harry Raines play dumb?”

“He ain‟t playing nothin‟,” the sheriff snapped vehemently. “If Morehead was doin‟ his job, none of

this would‟ve happened.”

“That‟s bullshit and you know it. If the Committee had done its job, none of this would‟ve happened.”

At my mention of the Committee, he reared back as if I had slapped him. I went on before he could

say anything.

“That makes you as much to blame for what‟s happening here as anybody. I could understand

Donleavy and Seaborn being naive enough to swallow Tagliani‟s line. You‟re the sheriff, Mr. Stoney,

lord high protector of Dunetown and all its peasants and all its kings. You should have tumbled to

therm. Why dump it off on somebody else?”

“Doughboy, I‟m beginning to think you‟re suicidal,” he said softly, and with enough menace that it

made me pucker a little.

“Okay,” I said, “I‟ll put it on the table. How clean is Raines?”

“Don‟t be silly,” he snapped. “You think Harry Raines had anything to do with this?”

I said, “If anybody local sold out to the Taglianis, they‟re looking down the throat of a RICO case.

And that means you, Harry Raines, or anybody else.”

“You have to prove racketeering on the Taglianis,” he said. “From what I hear, you ain‟t got doodlyshit on any of them. You‟re gonna bust out here, just like you did up north. They got you buffaloed,

doughboy. Admit it.”

I wanted to tell the crafty old bastard more, but I decided not to. Instead, I said:

“If he‟s dirty, he‟s going to get turned up.”

“I said, don‟t be silly, boy. Harry Raines is as honest as a Swiss pocket watch. You‟re dreamin‟ if you

think different. Dangerous dreamin‟. Harry, Sam Donleavy, me, we all did our best to keep Dunetown

clean. Sounds to me like you may be tryin‟ to put a size two shoe on a size ten foot.”

“On the other hand, if the shoe fits..

I let the rest of the sentence dangle.

“Let me put it to you straight, doughboy,” he said with unmistakable authority. “You stay away from

Doe Raines.”

I didn‟t answer him. We sat and stared through the shadows for several moments. His jaw was

flinching.

“This isn‟t going anywhere,” I said finally. “I owe you my thanks. I don‟t know what you‟re doing out

here, but I‟m glad you showed up. A little law never hurt anybody.”

“A little law ain‟t worth a damn,” he said. “Either you got muscle or you got numbers. You didn‟t

have either.”

I asked it suddenly. I wasn‟t planning on it, it just popped out, kind of like my gun popping out at the

dog fights.

“Is this your game, Mr. Stoney?”

He chuckled to himself, a mischievous chuckle, a tsk-tsk chuckle, which made me feel like a wahoo,

which is exactly what he wanted.

“I‟m gonna give you a little advice, us being in the same game, so to speak. I been at it forty-five

years. How about you?”

“Almost ten.”

“People are gonna gamble, doughboy, it‟s natural. The reason it‟s natural is because most people are

losers and they see themselves as losers and they don‟t think they‟ll ever amount to a goddamn, so

they gamble because in their eyes it‟s their shot at changin‟ their luck. So people‟ll gamble, and a lot

of hardass law ain‟t gonna change it. The same thing can be said of whorin‟. Always gonna be

whorin‟ goin‟ on, doughboy. A man wants to get laid, he‟s gonna get laid. Now, my job isn‟t to teach

„em not to gamble or not to get laid; that‟s a job for a preacher. No, my job is to make sure they don‟t

get hurt bad at it. We all know gamblin‟ and whorin‟ can attract some unsavoury characters around it,

so for that reason I keep my finger on things. I like to know who‟s doin‟ what. That way I keep things

from gettin‟ outta line, my folks from gettin‟ hurt.”

“That didn‟t answer my question,” I said.

“The answer to your question is yes and no. I own quite a few fightin‟ dogs. It‟s kind of a tradition in

my family. Been fightin‟ dogs all my life, just like my pap and his pap before him. The Titans‟ve

raised pit dogs since before Georgia was a colony. But I don‟t run the game, Mr. Kilmer. That‟s

gaming and that‟s felonious, and while I can tolerate it and my conscience doesn‟t have a problem

with misdemeanours, it balks when it comes to felonies.”

It was my turn to laugh.

“That‟s the damnedest bit of rationalization I‟ve ever heard,” I said.

“Call it what you will, it‟s the way I keep law and I haven‟t had a lot of trouble doin‟ it and I been at it

for longer than you‟ve been alive, so that ought to tell you something. Besides, this ain‟t Cincinnati or

Chicago or New York, it‟s south Georgia.”

“You want to tell me what happened between Nose Graves and Cherry McGee? There was a definite

touch of the Bronx to that.”

“Why are you interested?”

“Because Cherry McGee had done dirty laundry for Tagliani in the past. I don‟t believe in

coincidence, Mr. Stoney.”

“Mm-hmm. So finish it.”

“So I think Cherry McGee was sent in here by Tagliani to test the waters, find out if there was any

local problem. Graves turned out to be a permanent problem for McGee, Then Uncle Franco decided

to cool it. Now why do you think he backed off? It wasn‟t his style.”

“It‟s your story, boy, why don‟t you tell me.”

“Maybe he didn‟t want to attract any more attention. That‟s a possibility.”

“Obviously not one you favour,” he said sarcastically.

“No.”

“And what‟s your notion, doughboy?”

“Maybe he was told to back off.”

Titan never changed his expression his knuckles got a little whiter over the cane.

“Now, who might do a thing like that?” he asked.

“I thought you could tell me.”

“Until this very minute, I never thought to connect the two together.”

“It‟s just a thought,” I said. “If Franco had been in bed with somebody in Dunetown, that somebody

might have told him to cool it before the whole deal went sour.

“You got a hell of an imagination.”

“Not really. I can‟t imagine why the man that did McGee in is sitting over in that other limo and he‟s

counting the take from the first fight, and the sheriff is sitting thirty feet away discussing modern

romances.”

“I‟ve known Luther Graves since he „as a bulge in his mama‟s belly. What he does, he does honestly.

He‟s like a snake—he only gets mean when you step on him. Like I told you, this is still a small town

and it‟s still my job to keep an eye on it. If it‟s gonna happen anyway, I like to deal with people who

are predictable.”

“You telling me he runs a straight game? Is that what you‟re saying?”

“However you care to put it.”

“Well, Mr. Stoney, it‟s been your county for so long I guess you can run it any way you want to.”

He looked over at me finally, a smile flirting with the corners of his mouth, his eyes still gleaming

under shaggy white brows.

“You probably got a little more brains than I gave you credit for,” Titan said. “Now I‟ll ask you a

question. Did you kill „em, doughboy?”

“Did I kill them?”

I had to laugh at that one. But I stopped when I realized he wasn‟t kidding. It was definitely

something he had considered.

“I can get off right down there,” I said. “That blue Ford.”

Titan‟s man was still leaning on the hood.

“You avoidin‟ my question?”

“It‟s an instilling question, Sheriff. Besides I was with half a dozen other cops when two of the

slayings took place and I was on an airplane flying down here when Tagliani and his party got iced.

And besides that, I‟m not in the killing business. Thanks for calling off the dogs, if you‟ll pardon the

pun.”

I started to get out of the car.

“Just don‟t go around here actin‟ like Buffalo Bill or Pat Garrett or something. I got enough problems

on my hands.”

I got out of the limo and leaned back in and offered him my hand. He kept his folded over the gold

handle of his cane.