Small Crimes (13 page)

When
the song was over, the redhead collected the dollar bills that had been thrown
onstage and then flashed a sweet smile before walking off. As soon as she was
gone, Muscle-shirt left his seat and got in the face of the guy who had let his
hand linger. This guy looked like a truck driver. A big burly fellow with thick
ham-hock hands. At first it looked like they were going to get into it, but the
big burly guy lost his nerve. Muscle-shirt had his finger in the guy's face and
you could see the life just go right out of his eyes. All he wanted was to get
the hell out of there. Muscle-shirt jabbed him hard in the chest with his
forefinger and then walked back to his seat, more puffed up than before.

I
had finished my ale and made my way back to the bar to buy another one, but
Earl wouldn't take my money.

'Hey,
man,' he said as he opened up another bottle for me, 'tonight it's on the
house. Consider it a welcome-home party.'

'About
time I had one,' I said. I accepted the ale from him and pointed a thumb at
Muscle-shirt. 'What's the story there? How come you let him get away with that
type of behavior?'

Earl
showed an uneasy smile. 'Well, you know how it is. I like having Susie dance
here. She's a sweet kid and she's nice to look at, you know? Kind of makes me
feel good to have her around. If I throw the Rooster out, I think I'd lose
her.'

'The
Rooster, huh? That's a great name for him.'

'Yeah,
it fits, don't it?' Earl made a face as if he were suffering a bad case of gas.
I probably should have a talk with him.'

I
went back to my table and watched as Earl approached Muscle-shirt. He put a hand
on the guy's shoulder and moved his face so it was inches from Muscle-shirt's
ear. I could tell he didn't like what he was being told. He tried to argue, but
the more he did, the more pressure Earl applied to his shoulder. He seemed to
be struggling to keep himself sitting straight in his chair. After a short
while, Muscle-shirt shut his mouth and nodded, the muscles along his jaw
bulging heavily. Earl forced a handshake out of him and then went back to the
bar, giving me a wink as he went by.

The
next dancer was introduced as Toni. My jaw dropped when I saw her. She couldn't
have been more than five feet tall and was at most ninety pounds, but she was a
knockout. Maybe the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen. Long curly black hair,
big brown eyes, and lips that could stop your heart. She wasn't exposing
anything for her first song, wearing a belly shirt, hot pants and high heels.
The Stones.'

‘Angie'
blasted out from the loudspeakers and as she started dancing she caught my eye
and gave me a smile. Her smile did something to me. It made me feel a little
funny inside. I know it sounds ridiculous, reacting that way because a stripper
deemed me worthy of a smile, but that was the effect she had.

I
heard someone call my name. A heavyset man in his late forties had sat down
next to me and was offering me his hand. He looked somewhat familiar but I
couldn't place him.

'Joe?'
he asked again. 'Joe Denton?'

I
shook hands with him, puzzled, trying to figure out why his small bloodshot
eyes and doughy features seemed familiar. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'Do I know you?'

'We
know each other. I'm a few years older than you, but I grew up in Bradley. You
were closer in age to my brother, Billy.'

I
could see the resemblance then. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'You're Scott Ferguson.'

'That's
right.'

'You
joined the army or something, didn't you?'

'Yep.
I joined up when I was eighteen. I didn't move back here until two years after
my brother's death.'

We
both sat quietly for a moment and nursed our beers. It was as if everything
around me at that point were a million miles away. The music, the
heart-stopping little dynamo on-stage, the club, everything.

'That's
a shame about what happened to your brother,' I said.

He
nodded in agreement. 'You investigated Billy's murder, didn't you?'

'That's right, I did. That was a while ago,
though.' He sat silently for a long moment, brooding. Finally, he asked, 'It
was brutal, wasn't it?’

‘I'm sorry, yes, it was.’

‘And you never had any suspects?'

"There
was no physical evidence and no witnesses. No, we never had any suspects. You
should probably talk with the Bradley police. I'm sure your brother's case is
still open. Maybe they've found something over the years.'

'I've
talked with everyone involved. You're the only person I haven't talked to yet.'

'I'm
sorry, I don't know anything that could help you.'

He
was staring straight at me. I could feel his small bloodshot eyes boring into
me.

'Billy
had taken thirty thousand dollars out of an IRA account the day he was
murdered,' he stated.

'Yes,
I know.'

'You
do?'

'Yeah,
I didn't know it at the time I was investigating your brother's murder, but the
DA, Phil Coakley, mentioned it to me recently.'

'How
come none of you cops bothered to check into something like that?' he asked.
'Nobody knew about Billy's IRA until I settled his estate two years after his
murder. How come?'

'Again,
I'm sorry. It was sloppy police work on our part. We should have found that
out.'

'When
did the DA mention my brother's IRA to you?’

‘Yesterday.'

'Why'd
he do that? You're not a cop anymore.'

'I
guess he wanted to know if I had any ideas about it.'

'Do
you?'

I
turned to him. 'Scott,' I said, 'that was a long time ago. At least eight or
nine years. I really haven't thought much about it. I'm sorry for your loss,
but I've had problems of my own.'

'If
I'm bothering you I'll leave,' he said.

I
didn't say anything.

'So
I'm bothering you?' he asked, his expression growing more sullen.

'You're
not bothering me. I wish I could help. I just don't know anything.'

He
nursed his beer for a moment, his small eyes staring off into the distance. 'Do
you have any idea why Billy took out thirty thousand dollars?' he asked.

'Sorry,
nothing more than what the DA probably already told you.'

'You
know, you've been apologizing a lot to me.'

I
turned and stared at him. He tried to meet my stare, but after a while he
lowered his eyes. 'I was trying to be understanding,' I said. 'I know it's got
to be tough having your brother murdered like that. And Scott, it was worse
than brutal. I don't think I ever saw anyone beaten that badly. But to be
honest, even though Billy was in my high school class, I never really knew him
well. He was just some fat slob druggie that I'd see around town. What Phil
told me was he owed thirty thousand in gambling debts.'

"The
DA told me he was gambling with a local bookie named Vassey.'

I
let out a short laugh. 'Manny is, or at least was, a lot more than just a
bookie. Yeah, if Billy owed him and was stubborn about paying, Manny would've
sent muscle to collect. But I don't think he'd go as far as to kill any of his
customers. Not out of any moral sense. Just because Manny was too smart a
businessman for that.'

'Maybe
Billy was going to pay Vassey. Maybe someone else found out he had the money.'

He
was looking at me as if
I
were
that someone. After all, I had no problem stabbing a DA thirteen times in the
face, so why in the world would I have a problem beating a man to death for
thirty grand? It shook me up a little inside to realize how easy a sell it was.
Somehow I kept myself under control and pretended to give the matter some
thought.

'I
don't think so,' I said after an appropriate amount of time. 'Manny always kept
his business pretty tight. I don't think anyone would have known about it from
him. If your brother talked about it, maybe. But I remember interviewing his
friends. They were a bunch of lowlife hicks and druggies, but none of them
struck me as having the balls to do something like this.'

'Someone
must have known about Billy having that money,' he insisted, his tone
accusatory. Again, I pretended to ignore it.

'Maybe,'
I said. 'This was eight or nine years ago. Back then Manny had started sending
his son, Manny Jr., on collections. I think he was trying to break Junior into
the business. The thing is, though, Junior's a psycho. He likes to injure
people. He gets off on it. I remember one guy who stumbled into the emergency
room after his hand had been chewed up by a garbage disposal. The poor
sonofabitch was in shock. Somehow he had driven himself to the hospital, and,
if you can believe it, using a stick shift.'

I
paused for a moment. It was a true story, and thinking about it made me a
little queasy.
I
tried to remember his
name and finally came up with it. 'John Shortsleave,'
I
said. 'That was the poor sonofabitch. He used to live near
Willows Pond, but he packed up and moved after this happened. I knew Junior was
involved, but I couldn't get Shortsleave to talk. He was too scared. Even
though Junior had ground up his hand with a garbage disposal, Shortsleave
wouldn't talk. There were others also. After a while Manny got smart and
stopped sending his son out on jobs, but I think that was some time after your
brother was murdered. Maybe Junior was sent to collect from your brother. If it
was Junior, we never would've gotten him.'

All
the conviction and certainty drained from Ferguson's eyes. His pale doughy face
was now clouded by doubt. I guess my story rang true to him. And if Junior had
been sent to collect from Billy Ferguson it well could have turned out the way
it did.

'You
think Vassey's son could've killed Billy?' he asked, his attitude and manner
now completely changed, almost subservient.

'It's
possible,' I said. 'But as I say, if he did, we never would have been able to
prove it.’

‘Why?'

'Manny's
just too smart. He would've cleaned it up and bought an airtight alibi for his
son.'

Ferguson
seemed to shrink inwards as he digested this. Large creases of doubt formed
along his forehead.

'So
how long were you in the army?' I asked.

'What?
Oh, uh, twenty-two years,' he answered, distracted.

'Really?
I'll tell you, Scott, that's something. You must've gotten a chance to see
quite a bit.'

'Yeah,
well, I guess so,' he muttered, only half hearing me.

'Where
were you stationed?'

'What?
Oh, the last five years in Heidelberg.'

'No
kidding? You know, I've never been more than a few hours from Bradley. I really
should go to Europe some time. You know, see the world. Maybe you could let me
know places I should visit—'

'Yeah,
sure,' he said. 'Look, I have to go.' He got to his feet and looked as if he
had forgotten where he was. He stared blindly at the entrance before
recognizing it. As he walked away I yelled out to him to take care of himself.
He half-heartedly put up a hand to wave, but didn't bother looking back.

I
tried to settle back into my chair, but it took a long time before I could pay
attention to what was going on around me. By the time I could, Toni had
finished her last set. She had only stripped down to a bikini top and a
G-string, but a thick pile of dollar bills had still been thrown onstage and
slipped under her garters. Guys had surrounded the stage and were begging her
to take something off. She quieted them by flashing her heart-stopping smile.
As she collected her money, she glanced in my direction and gave me a look of
disappointment.

I
finished my ale and visited Earl to get another one. When I got back Toni was
sitting at my table. She was now wearing a football jersey. My guess, she
probably had nothing but panties underneath it.

'I'm
mad at you,' she said, playfully, her eyes sparkling.

If
it were anyone else I probably would've told them to take a number. Instead, I
sat down in the chair next to her and asked why.