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Authors: Wallace Stroby

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BOOK: The Heartbreak Lounge
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“What the
fuck
?” Ray Washington said.
They were out in the parking lot, getting wet, the building overhang blocking the wind only slightly. The sleet had turned to a steady rain. There were a half dozen cruisers in the lot, rollers flashing, red and blue lights reflecting off the wet pavement. Cops wandered idly through the store.
Harry shrugged. His right hand was swollen, stiff, but he wasn't feeling the pain yet. The adrenaline and the Percocet were keeping it at bay. But his stomach was sour, and every few minutes a wave of nausea would rise up in him that he had to choke down.
Through the window he could see two Neptune cops talking to Chaney. A few feet away, a plainclothes detective had Lyle off to the side. He had an ice-filled towel pressed against his face and occasionally cut an angry glance at Harry through the glass.
The ambulances had been and gone. He was starting to feel the fatigue now, the sleepy dislocation that always came after moments of high stress.
“How's Errol?” he said.
“Said he was fine, but I told him he had to go to the hospital anyway, get some X-rays. Insurance reasons. Now, listen, we need to get our stories straight here.”
“It happened just the way I told it. Tell them to pull the tape. It's all on there.”
“I'm sure they will. In the meantime, I have a very pissed-off business owner here. I don't think this is the way he saw things going.”
“That Neptune cop, the first one I talked to, said he knows the kid. Said he's fourteen. His brother's in prison.”
“Which is where he'll be himself someday if he lives long enough. Maybe Lyle did him a favor.”
“You believe that?”
“Who am I talking to here, Jesse Jackson? Get your shit correct. He walked in there with a gun in his hand. He did it before, he'll do it again.”
“If he lives.”
He looked away at the cars on Route 33, most of them slowing down to see what was happening.
“Come on,” Ray said. “Let's get out of this rain.”
They went back inside. Chaney looked over at them from where he stood talking to the two cops. Ray took Harry's arm, guided him in the other direction. The blood on the floor was already drying, thick and tacky in the fluorescent light.
A uniformed cop escorted Lyle out the door, still holding the towel to his face. The plainclothes cop who'd been talking to him looked around, saw Ray. He was a heavyset white man in his fifties, wearing a satin New Jersey Devils jacket over a shirt and tie. Harry didn't know him.
He came over, shook hands with Ray, nodded at Harry.
“What a mess, huh?” he said, taking a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket.
“Ed Odell, this is Harry Rane. He works for me.”
Odell looked at him but didn't offer his hand. He pried a cigarette out of the half-empty pack, lit it with a Cricket.
“Rane? I know you?”
“We worked together for the state,” Ray said. “MCU. He's been with me about six months.”
“And I trust those weapons are fully licensed, carry permits and all?”
“Of course,” Ray said. “Happy to show you the papers.”
Odell looked at Harry.
“Been a while since you've been in the middle of something like this, I'd guess,” he said. “When did you leave the state?”
“Three years ago.”
“Drummed out, huh?” He smiled.
“Something like that.”
“Well, Ray.” He turned away from Harry. “I know the mayor okayed your being here and I know the Businessman's Association or Civil Rights Council—or whatever the fuck they're calling themselves these days—is paying for it, but aggravation like this I don't need.”
He looked Ray in the eye. Smoke drifted between them.
“Don't mean to step on your toes here, Ed, but if these people feel they're not getting enough police protection, then they're entitled to bring in someone else. Every corporation and chain store in the area has private security. Why is this different?”
“Because I can't remember the last time I had to respond to a shooting at Sears, that's why. You state people, even after you leave the job, you've got the same attitude. Like the locals are some sort of Mickey Mouse outfit and you're going to come in and tell us how things should be run. I have to put up with that bullshit sometimes, no way around it, but I don't have to put up with it from you now.”
“That's not the way it is, Ed, and you know it.”
“Looks like we're stuck cleaning up your mess, though. And maybe I should be making a call to Errol Micheaux's boss over in Asbury too.”
“He's been cleared to work for me. He's off-duty. No one's breaking any rules.”
“Could be you need to hire some Neptune boys. Maybe they'd have had this situation under control a little quicker, with nobody getting hurt.”
“How's the kid?” Harry said.
Odell looked at him.
“Kid? You referring to the shooter or the employee whose face you fucked up?”
“He shot that boy point-blank, unarmed. It wasn't right.”
“Well, maybe that ‘kid' will learn his lesson now.”
“How is he?”
“Last I heard from the hospital, he was still unconscious.
Twenty-twos, though, they can be bad with head wounds. Small slug, but it rattles around in there, bounces off the bone. Can do a lot of damage.”
“Is he going to live?”
“Got a coin?”
Odell slapped Ray on the arm.
“Let's talk in the morning,” he said. “Come by headquarters. And bring that paper.”
He turned away, went over to talk to one of the uniforms.
“Prick,” Harry said under his breath.
“You've been out of the Life too long,” Ray said. “He's a prince compared to some I have to deal with. Come on, let's take a drive. We need to talk.”
 
When Ray went to use the phone at the back of the diner, Harry swallowed another Percocet quarter, washed it down with coffee. He looked out the window at the rain. They'd driven from the liquor store in Ray's Camry, left the Mustang there. He hoped there were enough cops still at the scene that it wouldn't be stolen.
Ray hung up, walked back to their table, sat down. A gust of wind blew rain against the windows, made the glass shudder.
“Well?” Harry said.
“The boy's name is Luther Wilkins. He's still in surgery. We'll know more later. The ER doctor says his signs were good, brain activity strong.”
“And Errol?”
“Minor bruising to his chest. Nothing much, but he'll get a story to tell out of it. Never been shot at before.”
“He did good in there. Moved fast. The kid panicked. There was nothing he could have done about that.”
“He wouldn't be moving very fast now if he hadn't been wearing that vest. You should have had one too.”
“Next time, I will.”
Ray drank coffee.
“I don't think there'll be a next time,” he said. He set the cup down. “At least not there.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don't imagine that old man is going to invite us back. I don't think he was one hundred percent in favor of us to start with.”
“So why were we there?”
“A dozen robberies at black businesses in Neptune and Asbury since August, no arrests in any of them. The Citizens Crime Watch Committee decided to pool their money, hire private security. I quoted them a good rate. It was important to them, I think, to go to a black firm.”
“And then the white guy shows up and all hell breaks loose.”
“There's some will look at it that way, sure. Doesn't make them right.” He gestured to the waitress, who returned with the coffeepot, poured for both of them. “I've been rotating three two-man teams out of seven different businesses for a month, and that's the first time anything's happened.”
“So you're going to retire me?”
“Hell, it's not like you did anything wrong. You probably saved a couple lives in there. But the neighborhood people … they can get unduly sensitive about white police in their midst. Even ex-police.”
“I understand.”
“After tonight, what actually happened in there won't matter. There'll be at least two other stories about it floating around on the street.”
“In both of which, I'm at fault.”
“This is a rumor community,” Ray said. “Word-of-mouth. People don't always read the papers. And when they do, they don't necessarily believe what they read anyway. Black folks have a long history of mistrusting authority. Can you blame them?”
“So this isn't exactly a public relations coup for you. That what you're telling me?”
“Not what I said. I'm happy—grateful even—you took me up on the offer to come work with me. But maybe we should rethink this particular situation.”
Harry sat back.
“Don't sweat it, Ray. I'm fine. You don't need to go out of your way for me.”
“Did I say I was? We'll find something else for you to do. It isn't a problem.”
“But is it worth it?”
Ray didn't answer, put his cup down.
Harry looked out at the rain.
“This weather's getting to me.”
“Heard from Cristina?”
Harry shook his head.
“A letter about three weeks ago, that was it. Nothing since.”
“You try to call her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“When she's ready, she'll call me.”
“With all that happened between you two, I can understand her wanting to get away, get some things clear in her head. But you act like she's never coming back. Like it's already a lost cause.”
“Maybe it is.”
“You should listen to yourself. You think you were going to come back here, do the happily-ever-after thing just like that? You got the crap beat out of you, got your arm broken, her husband got murdered. Not exactly your normal courtship.”
“I don't know what I thought.”
“You were doing well for a while, partner, and now you're sliding again. I can see it, hear it in your voice.”
Harry shrugged.
“You ever consider seeing someone?” Ray said.
“What do you mean?”
“To talk with. You know.”
“A therapist? I did for a while, a few years back. After Melissa died.”
“And?”
“It was good for me at the time, I guess. But after a few weeks I felt like we were just going in circles. The pills didn't help either.”
“What they give you?”
“Something called Paxil. I took it three times, flushed the rest down the toilet.”
“Maybe you should go back. Find a different doctor.”
Harry shook his head.
“Where did you say she was?” Ray said.
“Seattle. She has a cousin there.”
“And how long's she been gone?”
“Two months this week.”
Ray looked down at his cup.
“If I were you …”
“Yeah?”
“I'd go out there. Show up on her doorstep. Sometimes that's what women need, a gesture.”
“Maybe I'm all gestured out.”
Ray took out his wallet.
“Come on,” he said. “Let's get out of here. I'll drive you back to the store, let you get your car. Then I'll call the hospital again. I have the feeling it's going to be a long night.”
 
There were still a handful of patrolmen at the liquor store, but Odell and the other detectives had gone. One cop had a roll of yellow crime scene tape, was waiting for the others to finish up before sealing the place off.
The Mustang was intact. Standing in the rain, Harry got his keys out, unlocked the driver's-side door.
Ray slid the Camry's window halfway down.
“Give me a call tomorrow,” he said. “We'll figure something out.”
Harry nodded, got behind the wheel. As he started the engine, he looked up, saw the uniforms watching him from inside the store. The cop with the crime scene tape gave him the finger.
BOOK: The Heartbreak Lounge
6.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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