Leavenworth,
now get out of my sight.”
He passed the kid, who was behind a desk, and
tried to greet him but the kid stonewalled.
Kebar got down to the car pool and the guy
assigned there smirked, went,
“Back to the Lone Ranger again?”
Kebar didn’t rise to it, got in the prowl, burned
rubber outa there.
His mind was hopping with every form of revenge
known to man, and his first order of business was
to find out who did the number on Lucia. Morronni
would have contracted that out, and Kebar knew
exactly who to ask.
He drove to Little Italy, went into a barbershop
there, and sure enough, a bookie by the name of
Lonnie was sitting in a chair, marking up the form
sheets, he wasn’t happy to see Kebar, who said,
“Get your ass in gear, we’re taking a little ride.”
Lonnie looked around for help but the other
customers were suddenly engrossed in other
activities, no one was going to run interference for
him with the demented cop. Lonnie made a show of
putting the paper aside, sighed, and followed
Kebar outside. As they got in the car, Kebar said,
“That sigh you gave, hold the thought, you’re gonna
fucking need it.”
Kebar had the radio on, not the police scanner but
the C and W channel, they always played Johnny
Cash and sure enough, here he was with “The Man
Comes Around.”
Listening to Kebar sing along with Cash, that
scared the be-Jaysus out of Lonnie more than
anything else, and the way he leaned on the line
about a guy taking names, something very ominous
about that.
Kebar took Lonnie to the same area of ground
where he’d sent the kid sprawling in the dirt,
pulled up, let his window down, said, “Good spot
to dump a body, you think?” Lonnie thought, “Oh
sweet fuck.”
Kebar took out his Glock, let it lie loosely in his
lap, said, “I’m going to ask you one time for some
information, and if you stall, shoot me a line, I’m
going to shoot you in the balls, you real clear on
that?”
He was.
Kebar turned the radio off, leaned back, then
asked,
“Morronni got some scumbag to do a number on
my sister, the full beating and …”
He had to grab a breath, then:
“And … violated her, she’s a little handicapped
but she’d have known she was being hurt, now take
your time, I want to know who’d be up for that type
of… job?”
Lonnie racked his mind for some out, couldn’t find
one, said,
“There’s a psycho, a real piece of work, that kind
of… stuff, he loves it and if it was a retard—”
He instantly regretted using the word but fuck, he
was nervous.
He chanced a look at Kebar, and no reaction save
a slight tightening of his mouth. Kebar asked,
“The name and where he hangs?”
“Fernandez, he likes to go to the strip joint on
Eighth and Twentieth, he’s a real dangerous
mother, does crystal and has a crew of some very
deranged bikers.”
Kebar nodded, said, “Good, you did good, just one
thing.”
Then he suddenly whacked Lonnie under his chin,
hard and brutal, said,
“Retard, that’s a real ugly word, try and drop it,
okay?”
Lonnie was seeing stars and he was fairly certain
he’d had some teeth loosened. Kebar put the car in
gear, asked,
“Drop you someplace?” Lonnie, barely able to
speak, muttered, “Any subway station, any one
that’s near.”
Five minutes later, he was getting out of the car,
blood and sweat running down his face. Kebar
said, “You won’t be tipping off anybody, will you,
Lonnie?” Lonnie swore on his mother’s grave.
Kebar smiled, said,
“Be seeing you.”
Lonnie watched him drive off and hoped Kebar
wouldn’t find out his mother was alive and well.
How well I have learned that there is no fence to
sit on between heaven and hell. There is a deep
wide gulf a chasm, and in that chasm is no place
for any man.
—Johnny Cash
I’M NOT GOING TO MAKE EXCUSES HERE,
AS THE YANKS say, it got away from me.
Lucia.
The darkness had been building in my head and
now get out of my sight.”
He passed the kid, who was behind a desk, and
tried to greet him but the kid stonewalled.
Kebar got down to the car pool and the guy
assigned there smirked, went,
“Back to the Lone Ranger again?”
Kebar didn’t rise to it, got in the prowl, burned
rubber outa there.
His mind was hopping with every form of revenge
known to man, and his first order of business was
to find out who did the number on Lucia. Morronni
would have contracted that out, and Kebar knew
exactly who to ask.
He drove to Little Italy, went into a barbershop
there, and sure enough, a bookie by the name of
Lonnie was sitting in a chair, marking up the form
sheets, he wasn’t happy to see Kebar, who said,
“Get your ass in gear, we’re taking a little ride.”
Lonnie looked around for help but the other
customers were suddenly engrossed in other
activities, no one was going to run interference for
him with the demented cop. Lonnie made a show of
putting the paper aside, sighed, and followed
Kebar outside. As they got in the car, Kebar said,
“That sigh you gave, hold the thought, you’re gonna
fucking need it.”
Kebar had the radio on, not the police scanner but
the C and W channel, they always played Johnny
Cash and sure enough, here he was with “The Man
Comes Around.”
Listening to Kebar sing along with Cash, that
scared the be-Jaysus out of Lonnie more than
anything else, and the way he leaned on the line
about a guy taking names, something very ominous
about that.
Kebar took Lonnie to the same area of ground
where he’d sent the kid sprawling in the dirt,
pulled up, let his window down, said, “Good spot
to dump a body, you think?” Lonnie thought, “Oh
sweet fuck.”
Kebar took out his Glock, let it lie loosely in his
lap, said, “I’m going to ask you one time for some
information, and if you stall, shoot me a line, I’m
going to shoot you in the balls, you real clear on
that?”
He was.
Kebar turned the radio off, leaned back, then
asked,
“Morronni got some scumbag to do a number on
my sister, the full beating and …”
He had to grab a breath, then:
“And … violated her, she’s a little handicapped
but she’d have known she was being hurt, now take
your time, I want to know who’d be up for that type
of… job?”
Lonnie racked his mind for some out, couldn’t find
one, said,
“There’s a psycho, a real piece of work, that kind
of… stuff, he loves it and if it was a retard—”
He instantly regretted using the word but fuck, he
was nervous.
He chanced a look at Kebar, and no reaction save
a slight tightening of his mouth. Kebar asked,
“The name and where he hangs?”
“Fernandez, he likes to go to the strip joint on
Eighth and Twentieth, he’s a real dangerous
mother, does crystal and has a crew of some very
deranged bikers.”
Kebar nodded, said, “Good, you did good, just one
thing.”
Then he suddenly whacked Lonnie under his chin,
hard and brutal, said,
“Retard, that’s a real ugly word, try and drop it,
okay?”
Lonnie was seeing stars and he was fairly certain
he’d had some teeth loosened. Kebar put the car in
gear, asked,
“Drop you someplace?” Lonnie, barely able to
speak, muttered, “Any subway station, any one
that’s near.”
Five minutes later, he was getting out of the car,
blood and sweat running down his face. Kebar
said, “You won’t be tipping off anybody, will you,
Lonnie?” Lonnie swore on his mother’s grave.
Kebar smiled, said,
“Be seeing you.”
Lonnie watched him drive off and hoped Kebar
wouldn’t find out his mother was alive and well.
How well I have learned that there is no fence to
sit on between heaven and hell. There is a deep
wide gulf a chasm, and in that chasm is no place
for any man.
—Johnny Cash
I’M NOT GOING TO MAKE EXCUSES HERE,
AS THE YANKS say, it got away from me.
Lucia.
The darkness had been building in my head and
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