Old Flame (14 page)

CHAPTER

34

K
enny stood with his back against the bar, sipping from a bottle of water. I had called him and asked him to meet me at Feeney’s. He didn’t look happy to see me, and I didn’t blame him. Our relationship thus far wasn’t what he bargained for. And it wasn’t about to improve.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

“Always.”

“How about a kosher meal? My treat.”

His eyes narrowed. “What’re you setting me up for?”

“Not a thing. Just two friends enjoying a meal. I’ll even spring for the cab.”

“You mean it?”

“Not exactly.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

He took me to a restaurant in the Forties, west of Madison. We both ordered the rib eye steaks, on the bone. It was great.

“What makes food kosher?” I asked. “Like, why can’t you eat pork? I always figured it had something to do with trichinosis, or that pigs rolled around in crap.”

“Nothing to do with it. It’s because God said so. He’s very clear about what’s permissible and what isn’t, and that’s it.”

“Really? What about mixing milk and meat?”

“More complicated, but pretty much the same thing.”

“Fascinating.”

“Look, I’d love to discuss this with you further, but what shit job do you have lined up for me?”

“What makes you think it’s a shit job?”

“I’m a fast learner,” he said.

“Can you get me the names of the owners of a particular restaurant?”

“Sure. But it’s probably a corporation.”

“Can you pierce the veil?”

“With a little work. What’s the restaurant?”

“Été.”

“That place across from where those guys tried to kill you.”

“That’s the one.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Kenny said. “Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why do I feel like the governor just pardoned me?”

“I seem to have that effect on people.”

“I actually enjoy working with you,” Kenny said.

“That truly is a mystery.”

“No, I’m serious. Stuff seems to happen to you, and that makes things fun.”

“It occurred to me I know very little about you, Kenny. Are you married?”

“I was. Nice lady. She couldn’t put up with my life. I couldn’t blame her.”

“Any kids?”

“Two. Six and four. She won’t let me see them. Says it isn’t good for them to have somebody like me in their lives.”

“I’m very sorry.”

He shrugged. “You make choices, and you have to live with them. I do see them, though. She doesn’t know it, but I see them. I know their schedules to the minute. When they go to the park. When they go to school. They don’t know I’m there, but I see them. Beautiful kids. Getting bigger every day.”

“I didn’t mean to open this can of worms.”

“It’s not a can of worms,” he said. “It’s my life. And what about you, Steeg?”

“What about me?”

“What’s important to you?”

“The people I love. Family.”

“So, maybe we’re not too different.”

Could be Dave had it right after all.

CHAPTER

35

I
needed some alone time.

My lungs burned, I was bone tired and in no mood for company. What I was looking forward to was a quiet evening at home. Catch up on some reading. Listen to some music. And turn in early. As much as I hated to admit it, I was wearing down, and coming to grips with my own fragility was something I wasn’t used to. I had been grappling with Ferris’s murder and the Danny Reno situation for a while. My bread had been cast out on the waters, and I wanted to sit back and let the tide bring something in.

I popped a Carter Family CD into the CD player, opened the newspaper to the sports section, and stretched out on the sofa. Fifteen minutes later my doorbell rang. I seriously considered not answering. I should have gone with my instincts. I hauled my body up and went to the door.

The tide hadn’t been kind. Jeanmarie and Ollie stood at my threshold.

“Can we come in?” she asked.

“This is not a good time.”

“Do you have company?”

“No.”

“Then it’s a good time,” she said.

She brushed past me. Ollie trailed in her wake.

By the time I closed the door and got back to the living room, she and Ollie had settled in on the sofa.

Hoping to send the message that this would be a short visit, I stood.

“What do you want?” I said.

She reached over and plucked a vase from an end table. “Remember this, Ollie?” she said. “We gave it to Ginny on their first anniversary.”

Her tone implied that I had somehow stolen the vase.

“Take it, it’s yours.”

She replaced the vase.

“It wasn’t expensive anyway,” she said.

Jeanmarie was in rare form.

“Why are you here?”

She looked around the living room. “How do you do it, Steeg?”

“Do what?”

“Live alone. Your mother, Norah, always said you didn’t need anybody. Said that you’d be perfectly happy sitting on a stump in the middle of a field with only yourself for company. Didn’t she say that, Ollie?”

Ollie appeared to have something else on his mind.

“It’s a wise mother who knows her own children, Jeanmarie,” I said.

“Are you saying I don’t know my children?”

“I’m saying that I’m not up to dealing with you tonight. What’s on your mind?”

“Tell him, Ollie.”

But Ollie didn’t seem to be in the mood for idle talk. He looked away and rubbed his hands together as if trying to warm them.

“Let’s go home, Jeanmarie, and leave him be. The lad looks poorly.”

“He always looks like this.
Tell him,
I said.”

I wondered what sin Ollie had committed in some previous incarnation to wind up with someone like Jeanmarie.

“Tell me what, Ollie?”

“I screwed up, Steeg. Got caught up in something and it’s coming back on my family.”

“What are you talking about?”

He looked down at his hands and then at Jeanmarie, who stared straight ahead, stone-faced. Realizing there was no help there, he continued.

“I was there that night. Outside of the gay bar. I saw what they did to that boy, and I ran.”

“You were at Neon?”

“Aye. I saw you come in. Surprised me. Never figured you for one of those.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The man was beyond redemption.

“Why were you there?”

“Went out to hoist a few with Liam’s friends. Hit a few bars, everyone was feeling good. It was getting late and I wanted to pack it in, and the fella they call Big Tiny wouldn’t hear of it. His blood was truly up that night. Said the fun was just starting. And that’s how we wound up there.”

“And you and the other assholes beat that man to death?”

“No, I had no part of it. The Nancy boy was up the corner from the bar. Looked to be waiting for someone. The boys went up to him. Pushed him around a bit. Told him they wanted him to . . . do things to them. He was so scared I thought he would piss himself. He tried to get away, but . . . you know the rest. They were on him like a pack of wolves. Never figured it would come to that.”

“Why would you get involved with these people, Ollie?”

“Because,” Jeanmarie spat, “the man’s a layabout, not a proper man, a slug who can’t hold a job for three days in a row and blames everyone else for his shortcomings. If it’s not the blacks, it’s the Jews, or the Puerto Ricans. Always someone else. May as well be the Martians. Ah, what’s the use! He is what he is, and I’m stuck with him.”

“Now, Jeanmarie . . .” Ollie said.

She cut him off. “Don’t you ‘Jeanmarie’ me. You tell Steeg everything, or I’ll put you out of the house.”

He looked down at his hands again, his voice barely above a whisper. “It was me who sent Tony those letters.”

The Universe had finally kicked in.

“Why?”

“He was a nigger, and my daughter brought disgrace on our family when she married him.”

“
You
disgrace this family,” Jeanmarie said.

“Where did you get this from?”

“Stuff Liam brought home. Pamphlets and such.”

“Like father, like son. Not a brain between them. Wonderful family I raised.”

“And you believe this twisted shit?” I said.

Ollie looked away.

“I did, God forgive me,” he said.

Some things just take your breath away.

I looked at Jeanmarie.

“Do you buy this crap too?” I said.

“I believe in the Holy Mother Church and its teachings. I also know that Ollie is going to burn throughout eternity for his sins. But he didn’t kill Tony, and while he’s here on earth, I will not allow my husband to be punished for something he did not do.”

I turned back to Ollie. “Tell me about Ferris.”

“I wrote him notes. Telephoned him. Warned him what would happen if he didn’t leave my daughter.”

“And?”

The room was very still.

“Wanted him dead,” he said. “I followed him, looking for the right opportunity.”

“And you had a few but never followed through.”

He looked down at his hands. “Aye,” he said.

“How about the night he was murdered?”

“Jeanmarie and I were at church. Most Precious Blood.”

Now,
that
was an alibi!

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“I’m worried for my daughter,” Ollie said. “I’ve put her in danger.”

“Ginny mentioned she received a note after Ferris was killed, and I couldn’t figure out why. But I have a feeling you’re going to solve that little mystery.”

“Aye, Tiny knows I wasn’t happy about killing that lad at the bar. He’s afraid I won’t keep my mouth shut. So now the bastard’s using Ginny to keep me quiet.”

“I didn’t know Ollie was behind these things when I first asked for your help, Steeg,” Jeanmarie said. “Appears that I need your help again.”

I think there was a compliment buried somewhere in there.

“It’s already been taken care of,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“Trust me, Big Tiny’s writing days are over. What now, Ollie?”

“My conscience is clean,” he said.

“Really!”

“That night at church, I made my first confession in I don’t know how many years. Father Burke said that for my sins to be forgiven I had to make a clean breast of things. That’s why I’m here.”

“Have you told Ginny?”

“I have. And she’s done with me. I don’t blame her. Tony dead. Liam too. Colleen, living Lord knows what kind of life. And it’s my fault. I was a piss-poor father to my children.”

Ollie was back to feeling sorry for himself, and it made me want to puke.

“That you were, and a piss-poor imitation of a man. But if it’s sympathy you’re looking for, I’m fresh out. Maybe a few more Acts of Contrition will do the trick.”

CHAPTER

36

T
hat men like Ollie exist is a hell of a comment on the human condition, and an enduring wonder. At Most Precious Blood, we were taught that God gave us a “one size fits all” path to Him. The problem is, guys like Ollie develop their own twisted theologies to fit God. The things we do in His name truly chill the soul.

I called Luce.

“You’re not going to believe this one,” I said.

“Wanna bet?”

I filled her in on the latest twist.

“Where in hell did he come up with this stuff?”

“Christian Identity horseshit.”

“Are these the folks who live in Idaho and see black helicopters in their dreams?”

“The very same. Skinheads. Klansmen. Posse Comitatus. Neo-Nazis. The truly fucked up who live among us.”

“Does he realize these miscreants are not too thrilled with Catholics, either?”

“You’re expecting a moron to be rational? Come on!”

“How in hell did he get involved with this stuff?”

“Ollie works intermittently, so he has a lot of time on his hands.”

“Do you believe that he didn’t kill Ferris?”

“Yeah. But it adds a whole new dimension to my theory of the case.”

“Which was?”

“I didn’t actually have one till now, but it’s beginning to take shape.”

“Care to share?”

“Not quite yet. You’ll only shoot it full of holes.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you flunked ‘Plays Well with Others’ at school? What else is going on?”

“Still haven’t heard from Banas, the missing Été waiter,” I said.

“I’m surprised. I thought the job interview bit would work like a charm.”

“So did I. Want to go back up to the Bronx and try again?”

“I shudder at the thought,” she said. “Let’s give him one more day.”

“I tell you, Luce, the longer I live, the less things surprise me.”

“If you keep the bar low, you’ll never be disappointed. What else is going on?”

“I’m convinced that Ferris did indeed have his last meal at Été, and he either paid cash or his companion — and possible killer — picked up the tab.”

“ ‘Convinced’ is a strong word,” she said.

“It was something Toal said. A detail from the ME’s report. The official cause of death was blunt-force trauma to the back of the head. Toal said he might have been hit with a wrench.”

“And they never recovered the murder weapon,” Luce said.

“Right. And then Toal threw something else into the mix that I had completely forgotten about.”

“It happens.”

“Unfortunately. Anyway, it had to do with Ferris’s stomach contents. His last meal was an endive and radicchio salad.”

“Sounds like Ferris was trying to watch his weight,” she said. “Poor bastard picked the wrong time for it.”

“I asked Stuart, the manager at Été, if that salad was on the menu.”

“And he said it was.”

“Been there since the restaurant opened.”

“So, it’s a pretty good inference that he was there. I’m proud of you, Jackson. Any idea who he was with?”

“That’s where our amazing disappearing waiter comes in. All I know is, Ferris didn’t charge the meal.”

“Which means he paid cash, or his killer charged it.”

“Assuming that his dinner partner killed him.”

“And you’re not there yet.”

“Uh-uh. Every time I think I’m on to something promising, it takes me in a new direction.”

“Ain’t cop work fun?”