Deadly Compromises by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 17
Bobby woke up to a day of nothing, until 2:00PM. Though he spent the day with the television on, he didn’t pay much attention to it. It was just there to make some noise and provide visual escape from the monotonous off-white walls, popcorn ceiling and assemble-yourself-discount store furnishings. The brain dead machine kept him company in a more relaxing fashion than most people, as it never insisted on him making the appropriate reply. He enjoyed seeing the happy, excited people win game show prizes and money, though he really didn’t know what the objects of the games were, other than providing
“excitement.” He briefly thought about Kelly, Monica and how he got to where he was today. The answer was all too simple to occupy much time. He loved both of them. He thought about his Wehrle job and concluded that it seemed to be going well. He also knew that there was always a chance that Wehrle might have involved the local cops. If he was acting rationally, it was not in his best interest to do so, but sometimes people freak out. Not a major problem. If cops show up, Bobby would say he
saw the guy in the driveway and stopped to ask directions and stick with it.
At 2:00PM. He pulled into Donald’s driveway and again saw him near his Volvo. Bobby slowly got out of his.
Wehrle seemed cordial and offered; “Good afternoon, Tony.”
“Good afternoon, Donald.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about your proposition since you left yesterday. The more I think about it, the more I like it.”
Bobby said; “You’re going to have to excuse me for a minute. I’m going to have to frisk you. I wouldn’t want to find any wires. Would you mind?”
Instead of answering directly Wehrle said; “Why didn’t you do this yesterday?”
Bobby said; “I took a chance yesterday, as it was a surprise visit. I wanted you to hear my proposal and not put any obstacles in the way.” He extended his hands, palms up and said; “Okay?”
Wehrle put both hands in the air and grudgingly said;
“Okay.”
Bobby patted him down, found nothing and said; “Thanks. I really appreciate that.” He paused, briefly, then continued;
“I’m very glad that you like the deal. It seems the only good way.”
“I love that kid and he is driving me absolutely crazy. I hope this turns out to be a lesson for him, but I’d rather not have him experience a terrible lesson.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Do you have kids?”
The question took Bobby by surprise. He fumbled around a bit, saying; “No, never did that. But, I’m still working on it.
A possibility remains.” He decided not to elaborate on that.
It could go on forever.
Donald listened and was a bit confused at Bobby’s answer.
He decided not to appear prying and made no follow up question.
Instead he said; “Ah, I’ll get off that and get down to business. I can’t think of any way you could verify who you are. You’re certainly not like any ‘collection’ man I’ve seen on television. Bottom line, I have the $200,000 in my car.
Isn’t there any way you can think of verifying your existence?”
He smiled.
“I wish I could set your mind at ease. But I really can’t.”
Once more. If my son winds up in prison, he’ll be protected?”
“My employers tell me they will make sure that he’s all right, if they get their money back. I’ve been working for them for about ten years now and they’ve always kept their word.”
“All right, take the money and get out of here.” He transferred a suitcase from his car to Bobby’s and walked back toward his house.
Bobby felt badly for Mr. Wehrle, but couldn’t articulate why. He called out; “I’m sorry this kind of shit has to happen.”
Wehrle turned his head back, shook it slightly, grimaced and said; “You and me both.” He continued up the driveway.
Bobby watched him, wishing there were something he could say that might be of some help. He had an odd thought; “This kind of work is more difficult than an execution. You have to bear witness to the human tragedy. When I kill someone it’s not personal. Someone’s going to do it, even if I don’t. I never know what the victim’s mistake was; never get to know much about them, or how it affects their loved ones, up until this last mess of a job, anyway. Death ends the pain. Mr. Wehrle’s will
most likely continue for some time and he didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, he seems like a pretty good guy. All of a sudden I feel more weird than usual and I can’t even define what is causing it.........Best thing is to try and forget the whole god damned thing........Hope I can.”
Bobby drove back to his motel. He had planned to drive out to Vinny’s in Vegas to make the drop tomorrow. He didn’t like holding onto cash very long, as too many accidents can happen.
Wehrle could have innocently told a friend about the deal and maybe that friend is not so innocent and thinks he can take the money. He didn’t have any desire to get in the middle of that kind of shit. He looked at the plastic, wood grained, digital clock and saw that it was not yet 3PM. He looked forward to the trip, as he’d be in Kelly’s neck of the woods again. He decided that, rather than wait for tomorrow, it was best to leave right now.
It was a three day drive to Vegas. He drove at night, didn’t smoke any pot and listened to jazz stations. The lack of words comforted him in his current state of mind. He slept the days in various motels, with the television on. With the sound set to zero, it was, in effect, the nightlight he had as a little boy. Arriving in Las Vegas at 8AM, on a windy, overcast, winter morning, he went directly to Vinny’s, as he wanted to get
rid of the money as soon as possible. Vinny’s was in an old part of town; a one story brick building probably built in the 1940s. Bobby opened the heavy front door.
A huge, olive skinned guy in an expensive, dark suit was standing just inside the door. “Hello, friend,” he nodded, raising his arms to show that he was going to frisk Bobby. “You know the routine.”
Bobby said, “Sure.”
The big guy relieved Bobby of his gun and reached for the suitcase.
“Hey, hey,” said Bobby in an agitated voice. “I’m only giving this to Vinny himself.”
“All right, just wait here with me.” He told an old man, who was sitting alone at a table in the front room playing solitaire, to go get Vinny. Bobby’s eyes scanned the room. The walls were covered with yellowish light green paint, peeling in many areas. The most prominent feature was a painted ceramic image of Jesus on the cross. It was probably a good three feet long. One could clearly see the bright red blood dripping from the forehead of the one wearing the crown of thorns. The only other items gracing the wall were five or six framed, enlarged photographs of various women, probably associates of the
resident crew. They were all naked, excepting high heels, in various provocative positions, some smiling and some looking either bored or malevolent. As soon as Bobby started to focus on one of them, a meaty babe, probably around 35, with loads of curly black hair in the right place, the back door opened and Vinny entered the front room. Bobby had never seen him previously and was surprised to see that this powerful figure was extremely short, probably no more than five foot four. He was about forty, with receding black hair combed straight back and dressed casually, in a tan polo shirt and baggy black pants.
He approached cautiously and, in a wary tone said; “What do you have for me, pal?”
“I’m Tony. I feel like I should genuflect, but I’m going to control myself.”
Vinny had never seen him before, either and raised his now hearty voice to say; “Tony, you son of a bitch. Why the hell didn’t you call first? When I hear about a stranger with a suitcase I get agita.”
Bobby looked at the floor and shook his head from side to side and said; “Sorry, man. Sincerely. I’ve been fucking up everything lately.”
Vinny said; “It’s that girl. I’m tellin’ ya.”
Bobby shook his head again, this time indicating agreement.
He then pointed at the wall pictures and said; “You don’t look like you’re doing too bad yourself.”
In a low, pleased voice Vinny said; “Yeah, well, you know.”
He raised it to a cheery level and continued; “Hey, good to see you... meet you... whatever.” He laughed and directed his next loud remarks at his other friends; “This guy is an old friend, you know what I mean?”
They nodded at Bobby.
Vinny reached for the suitcase and said; “Let me take that from you and put it in a safe place.”
He handed it to one of his friends and nodded at him. His friend nodded back. Bobby thought he was in the land of nod.
Vinny’s friend turned and took it into the back room. He was probably going to count it. Bobby just then realized that he had never counted it himself. He hoped that Mr. Wehrle wasn’t trying to get silly and was again reminded of the problems associated with carrying cash.
Bobby jokingly said; “You gotta admit that this was a pretty good, quick job. Maybe next time I work I’ll do collections instead of hits. It’s easier and there’s no death penalty.”
“You don’t want it, Tony, it doesn’t pay as good.”
Someone opened the back door. Vinny looked in that direction. “Okay” came the voice. Bobby-Tony was now relieved that he had lucked out and now the job was over.
Tony said, “And I don’t really like carrying around a lot of money. All kinds of bad things can happen. If I get stopped by the cops, I’ll be better off with a gun than money.”
“I’m gonna miss your bullshit. Give me a call when you feel like working again. I owe you at least one easy one.”
With that, he put his hand on Bobby’s shoulder, leading him toward the door. “Enjoy your honeymoon.” They both smiled and nodded.
Vinny instructed the big guy to return Tony’s gun, which he did with a smile, then Bobby went back to his car, intending to drive to Amarillo and be as close as possible to his love.
He didn’t encounter much traffic on the straight roads through “Big Sky” country. He completely relaxed, with his main work now finished and enjoyed a smoke, as he watched the late autumn scene from the heavens. Light, white tubular clouds moved slowly across, appearing as if they had been painted there with a brush that needed to be dipped back in the can. The overall effect was pleasant and clear, as the sun easily shone
through. Bobby wondered if it was sending him any message in its fading, fragile group of meandering “I’s”, at different angles. “The Incredible Lightness of Being” came to mind.
After arriving in Amarillo, he decided that since he was this close to Castillo, he’d drive there and view the river. He felt a bit sleepy from the smoke and got bored after another hour of “I’s. He engaged the CD player and listened to Patti Smith sing some of her loud, exhilarating stuff.
In Castillo, he parked his car on the dirt ditch road named
“Romero”. No other cars were in evidence. As he got out and walked he wondered how many times Kelly had been in the same place. He went up and down the levee to a path which led to the river. He was hidden from the parking area by the levee. The river was flowing strongly and was causing some turbulence where it was breaking up small islands in the center. But he could also tell from gullys gouged out of the current land base that it was once much higher, probably lowered over the years by irrigation ditches and the needs of relatively new houses, some with second stories visible from the river. He walked about 200
feet to a group of dead logs lying on the ground and he sat on one, dreamily looking at the river.
Both sides of the river were covered with cottonwood trees, displaying their sturdy fall foliage of light brown and bushes of varying sorts. On his side he could see the remnants of differing annual plants some might call weeds, if detected in their gardens. Many birds were in evidence, including some brightly colored ones, mixtures of purple, yellow and red. He wondered if they were tropical migrants. He picked up a pleasant aroma that seemed familiar, but something he had not sensed for some time. He tried to remember where he knew the fragrance from, but couldn’t. He looked up and down the river itself. Some spots were so low that he could see the underlying rocks. He could see five islands; all near the center, which had to have been there for some time, as the vegetation on them was tall, probably indicating around twenty years. He absently looked around for about ten minutes, admiring the beauty, which seemed to be just for him. Though he wanted to stay, he decided not to push his luck. He wished he would accidentally coincide with Kelly, but also rationally understood that the possibility of the two of them being seen together now could be disastrous.
Cops could still be scouring for strangers, so he walked back to his car and drove back to Amarillo, staying the night at a motel. He left for Jersey City in the morning.
During his three day drive he smoked, listened to music and watched the sky turn grayer the further east he went. By the time he was nearly home he could no longer see it. He seemed to be enveloped in a low lying, gray, drizzling cloud, which made driving difficult. He stopped at his apartment, heated up something to eat, got ice tea to drink and went to bed. For some reason; perhaps Wehrle’s plight, perhaps being away from Kelly and, perhaps due to the lack of visibility caused by the ground hugging clouds, he felt unsettled. When he pulled the blankets over his head, he again felt safe and slept. He recalled many similar experiences when he was a child and thought that with the covers over his head, no one could see him, just as he couldn’t see them.
He woke at 6PM in complete darkness. A foggy evening allowed no light, whatsoever, through the windows. He stayed there a few minutes and daydreamed that Kelly was next to him.
If he could hold onto her and feel her body next to his, he knew everything would be fine.
He got out of bed. The room seemed cooler than usual. He put on a lamp, lit a cigarette and decided that he needed something to occupy his mind. The TV had no ability to do the job. A book would maintain the creepy silence. Music seemed likely to bring back memories he didn’t want. As he still owed
a small favor, to set things right he called Jason, his provider of “normality” and occupier of time.
Ring, ring, ring....
“Yeah.”
“Jason, its Tony.”
“What can I do for you, lover boy?”
“You told me that I still owed you one the last time we spoke. I agree, but I don’t think it’s a huge one.”
Jason replied; “No sweat. It’s nowhere near huge. So what, are you volunteering your services now?”
“Yeah.”
“She break up with you already?”
Bobby drew out; “Noooo.” He paused and got no reply, so he added; “It’s hard to explain and none of your business, anyway.”
“Believe me. I don’t want to sit through the long sad story.”
Bobby sternly said; “You keep this up and I’ll consider us even, for having to sit through your horseshit.”
“All right, all right. Don’t be so sensitive. Can’t you take a joke?”
“I don’t know. I’m a little fucked up today. Excuse the shit out of me.”
“I’m tellin’ ya, Tony. Those fuckin’ bitches will screw up your life. Just fuck ‘em, get a blowjob, or something and leave it at that.”
“Jason, if you don’t cut the nosy advice shit, I’ll hang up and consider us even.”
“Okay, okay. Damn. I need a little job done right in Jersey City. Some asshole keeps nosing around a business owned by a friend of mine.”
Bobby interrupted him to say; “Sounds like something catchy is going around.”
Jason laughed for the first time in Bobby’s memory and continued; “Shit, man. Anyway, my buddy has got a candy store front, doesn’t want to sell any candy and runs a gambling operation out of the place; sports, numbers, card games, whatever. This fuckin’ jackass keeps hanging around the place; starts asking questions and worst of all, the stupid motherfucker tells my friend he’s morally opposed to gambling.”
“What kind of shithead is this? Retarded or what?”
“I don’t think so. Sounds like an old fart with nothing to do.”
“Maybe he needs a blowjob?”
“Maybe, but that’s not my department. Can you just give him a strong talking to, maybe rough him up a little, threaten his family, you know and any other bullshit you think will work?”
“Yeah, no sweat. This might be fun. I hate nosy fucks.”
Jason proceeds to give Bobby all the relevant names and addresses. Bobby is instructed to call back when the job is done.
He put on the TV, devoid of the annoying, stupid sound and imagined that he was watching “Greed,” directed by Erich Von Stroheim. He didn’t think that this was very far-fetched, however the “creative” TV people had not yet figured out the ending. The story went on and on. He couldn’t deduce whether this was due to ignorance or a ploy for monotonous, purposeful and infinite programming time.
He planned to catch his prey early in the morning. He thought; “There isn’t anything more effective than being
threatened and knocked around before one is fully awake.” He hoped the busybody was not an early riser. He got something to eat and drink and fell soundly asleep while the entertainment device played another derivation of “The Price Is Right.”
He got up well before sunrise and rushed through his usual routine, anxious to get things moving. He dressed in old, dirty jeans, a dark, hooded sweatshirt, topped by a brown, sleeveless, hunter’s jacket, good for maximum arm mobility. He packed his
.32 and drove in the darkness to his assignment’s apartment building.
He parked on a side street a half block from the fifty year old, four-story, brick structure. The chilly morning air woke his senses. He thought he smelled overcooked breakfasts and he gagged. He took the stairs to the third floor and knocked on
#305.
He heard a shaky, male voice say; “Who’s there?”
“Maintenance.”
He got near the door and said; “I didn’t call Maintenance.”
“Yeah, I know. The apartment below you has a ceiling leak and it’s probably coming from here. Mind if I come in and take a look?”
The bolt was undone and the door opened, revealing a chubby, bald man of about 65. Bobby grabbed him by the throat and said; “Just keep quiet, pop. I only want to talk to you.”
He pushed pop inside, closed the door and said; “Have a seat on the couch.” Bobby remained standing.
Pop balked at sitting and in an indignant voice said;
“What’s going on here?”
Bobby pulled his gun and put it in Pop’s face. He said;
“Just do as you’re told, stupid and you’ll be all right.” He pushed him down on the couch. Pop silently stared at the weapon.
Bobby said; “Okay, listen up real good, asshole. My pal, John owns the candy store you’ve been spying on and he doesn’t like it one little bit.”
“I haven’t been spying on anybody.”
Bobby gave him a mild whack on the top of his head with his gun, raised his voice and said; “Don’t you ever fuckin’ argue with me. Got that?”
Pop’s belligerence subsided and he silently nodded.
Bobby said; “Good boy. Now, before I was so fuckin’ rudely interrupted, I was telling you about the fact that your presence
is making my friend nervous. We want you to stay away from the candy store. Shit rots your teeth anyway. Do you think you can do that for us?”
Pop showed some reticence by extending his hands, palms up and saying; “I’m not doing anything, except making conversation.
All of my old friends have moved away, mostly to Florida.”
Bobby gave him a backhand across the face. He calmly said;
“You’re not a good listener. We do not want to be bothered by nosy old farts. Understand?”
“Yes, but......”
Bobby cut him off and interjected; “Yes, but nothing. I don’t give a shit if you’re Mr. Lonely. Go to the fuckin’
senior citizen’s place or fuckin’ Florida. It’s not my concern.”
Pop put his hands on his face and appeared to be shedding a tear or two.
“Bobby said; “Hey, hey. Cut the bullshit. Big girls don’t cry. Look, I know where your kids live and if I need to I can pay them a visit, too.”
“No, don’t do that. I’ll stay away.”
“That your word? I don’t want to have to come back here for an unfriendly visit.”
“Yes, you’ve got my word.”
“All right, then.” Bobby pointed his left index finger at Pop and said; “Be good, now.” He turned and left, without looking back. He felt shitty again. While he started out the job anxious to terrorize some busybody motherfucker, his pet peeve, actually seeing the lonely old man made him remorseful.
He decided not to do this type of work again. He thought about how it must be so much easier to fly a bomber and not see your victims; than it was to be a grunt soldier in hand to hand combat. “It was good that I stayed out of the military in the Viet Nam years.”
He drove back to his apartment, under a morning sun, off and on eclipsed by ominous dark clouds. He was oblivious to the things around him, excepting other cars. His mind was elsewhere and he wasn’t sure where that was. He was again unsettled with little things; like his life and job. He wished he could see Kelly.
The first thing he did when he got back to his apartment was to call Jason. Ring, ring, ring......
“Yeah.”
“Gotta get a new opening line. That one’s starting to bore me. It’s Tony. I took care of business and the old fart understands.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Asshole was crying, with a welt on his head when I left.”
“Good man.”
Bobby said; “We’re all even now.” He hung up. He hoped he would be able to feel even. He turned on the TV and sat.
Kelly, the cops and even George had an uneventful three weeks.