Collision Course (A Josh Williams Novel) (15 page)

Some threw her off and ran out the door.

Few, if any, came back

Of course, she already took the money.

All captured on video.

On movie night, which they both loved, they would get Chinese food, a huge bottle of wine, watch every video in their collection, and then Argio, who did possess one overwhelming talent, would make Orange, juice.

There is always an exception to every rule. He came in the form of a recently emigrated, immensely strong, Azorean fisherman named Osualdo Soares.

He did not run, he did not cry. He loved it. Then, he took it to a completely new level.

Argio panicked. It is not that he did not care at all about Orange, although he did rather enjoy seeing her in pain a bit, but this was beyond that. He saw fear, he saw terror, he saw this guy turn her over, about to tear her a new one, literally.

Sometimes courage just shows up in the most unexpected moments. It was not chivalry, but Argio decided he needed to do something.

Bursting from the closet with an old baseball bat kept there for just such an occasion, he hit Osualdo on the side of the head, knocking him to the ground. Orange took the opportunity to run, grabbing the cell phone on the way out and frantically dialing 911.

Meanwhile, Argio realized that his home run swing served to distract and enrage, not incapacitate, Osualdo. Backing toward the door, Argio tried to get out. The still amply aroused fisherman, screaming a string of Portuguese invectives, tackled him. Argio quickly surmised that Osualdo did not care whose ass he sodomized.

He began to scream.

Orange managed to get enough information to the 911 operator to convince them of the urgency of the situation. Two uniform units and then-Detective Josh Williams arrived on the scene.

The officers entered the room simultaneously with Osualdo entering Argio. They intervened to prevent the completion of the act, placing handcuffs on the fisherman, and helping Argio regain his clothing. All while failing to contain their laughter.

Cultivating informants is usually a matter of smart cops recognizing an opportunity when they see it. This was a good one.

No charges filed, no one would believe it. Nevertheless, pictures were taken as insurance. It saved Argio much embarrassment and guaranteed his indebtedness to Josh.

Sometimes
we all need a place of refuge, anonymity, and solitude.

Josh enjoyed occasional solitude. He needed somewhere separate from his real life.

Whenever he needed to recharge, he came to the place where he was seen him before, but no one knew who he was, what he did.

He would find a place at the bar, pick out someone, and try to learn as much as he could by just listening and observing. Sometimes he would even follow when they left, but more often than not, he was satisfied with just watching.

Josh wondered if the act of observation affected the observed. It was a tenet of quantum physics, the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. The act of observation affected the object observed. You could know with certainty its velocity or its position, but not both. The act of observation caused a change.

Josh loved reading about physics; he understood very little, yet still read all he could get his hands on. Hamlin thought he was a frustrated mad scientist. It was just his natural curiosity, seeking meaning in a meaningless world...

When he thought he knew something about the people, he would look for ways to confirm it, a nametag, a business card, anything to try to confirm his conclusions. Occasionally he would grab the credit card receipt when the wait staff was busy, write down the info, and run it later. Bending the law a bit, but nonetheless an entertaining hobby. He was not wrong very often.

I have strong powers of observation and deduction.

I can read people.

I know things just by watching.

How was it I shot and killed unarmed man?

How is it my life with Keira is spinning out of control?

Josh looked out the window, watching people passing by.

More importantly, how can I fix this?

"What the hell are you staring at?"

Josh looked up and smiled. No matter what, he never let anyone think he was startled. A multi-tattooed man was glaring at him, fists clenched on the table, leaning forward.

Sitting at the table with him was another guy, drawn and jaundiced, hand shaking as he gripped his drink, and a young, harsh looking woman with enormous breasts.

"Sorry, lost in thought, not staring at anything."

"Well, go get lost somewhere else; you're making my girlfriend nervous."

Now the rule Josh lived by was this was his anonymous place. No matter how compelling it was to flash his badge, point the Sig Sauer at the asshole, and tell him to go get fucking lost. He got up and walked to the other side of the bar.

He now found his challenge.

He chose to watch this group. He would figure out these morons and find a way to exact some appropriate, yet anonymous, justice.

It did not take long.

Andre the Giant, Josh liked to assign names to his ‘targets,’ started complaining that the guy that fixed his car ripped him off. "It’s a ’66 GTO for Christ sake. The bastard should have done it just to say he could. The son-of-a-bitch was supposed to rebuild the carburetor and replace the exhaust. Not bill me for rebuilding the whole damn engine. I should have done it myself." Banging his drink on the table.

"Well, Kenny," Tanya Tits said, "you couldn't very well do that in jail, could you sweetie?” Her voice a combination of pre-pubescent little girl, post-surgical throat cancer survivor, and hangover mixed with an obvious limitation of intellectual ability. On the positive side, Josh received two good pieces of information to work with, although the fact of Andre being in the joint at some point was obvious to anyone who dealt with their type.

Junkieman smiled and kept looking into his glass with occasional glances at the breasts of Tanya Tits.

Josh finished his drink, ordered another one, told the bartender he would be right back, and walked out onto Thayer Street.

Andre did not look like the type to walk far. It took Josh two minutes to find the car parked on Meeting Street.

One quick little slice with the knife and the valve stem was rendered useless. A slow leak that would take an hour or so before the tire even looked low. The spring loaded automatic nail punch working its magic on the corner of the windshield, starting a small but persistent series of cracks that would grow as the car was jacked up to replace the flat tire.

Josh returned to the bar and continued his observations.

Andre took a call. A short time later, a young Brown University student walked in. He handed Andre an envelope and Josh watched him start counting money.

Shit, a fucking drug deal, now what the fuck do I do?

Andre smiled, looked around the table, and announced, "Dinner and drinks at the best place I can find,” reaching into his pocket, handing the car keys to the excited young man. "Enjoy the car kid; it’s one block up on Meeting."

"Oops," Josh thought, "I must be slipping, never saw that coming."

Tanya Tits announced that she wanted a lobster at the Biltmore, to which Andre replied “Biltmore? You’se is a weiner broad, fuckin' lobster, this bitch is nuts, eh?" Looking at Junkieman for support.

"I ain't taking you to no nice fucking place; I got real bitches for that."

Not that Josh held any particular sympathy for Tanya, but even she deserved better treatment. It gave him more incentive for revenge.

Josh caught up to the kid as he got to the car. "This yours?"

The kid was startled. "Ah yeah, just bought it"

"Did you get a bill of sale?"

"No, well, yeah, kind of, why do you care?"

"I am with the State Police,'' flashing his badge so the kid couldn't see who he really was, "we believe this car is stolen."

"What? No way, I just bought it. The guy advertised on a flyer around campus."

"Hmm, and you can't imagine anyone would sell a car that way if it was stolen? Look, kid, I know you didn't know. Go back and get your money, if he gives you a hard time, tell him the State Police are waiting."

The kid ran back toward the pub, a short time later he came out followed by Andre. The kid, envelope in his hand, pointed up the street. Andre started toward the car and then hesitated, looked around, and went back inside. A moment later Tanya Tits came out and went to the car.

'What a fucking hero," Josh thought. "Send the big-titted airhead and maybe the cops will cut her some slack."

Not a bad strategy
.

Tanya got to the car, looked around, and got in. She drove around the block and pulled up to the front door. Junkieman came out, followed by Andre. As Andre went around to the driver's side and opened the door, one of those fortuitous moments occurred.

These kind of things happen by pure coincidence.

No one could plan it.

A Rhode Island State Police cruiser came down Thayer Street. The trooper sightseeing the pretty college girls, but it did not matter.

Tanya saw the trooper and panicked. She put the car in reverse instead of park and stepped on the gas as she tried to slide over to the passenger seat. The GTO screamed backward, taking Andre and Junkieman with it.

The trooper never saw it coming.

As the vehicle accelerated, the rear end hit the front of the cruiser and pushed it into three other parked cars. Andre was now the meaty center of a Pontiac and BMW sandwich. Junkieman was a hood ornament on a Lexus. Tanya, to her credit, tried to be helpful and take control of the situation. However, on reflection later in the hospital, she would realize that shifting from reverse to drive put the focus of the action in a different direction, not for the better.

The GTO, firmly attached to the push bumper of the State Police cruiser, once again put on a convincing demonstration of its reputation as a muscle car.

In a scene later described as like a horror movie, the GTO dragged the State Police cruiser, the incredulous trooper still in the driver's seat, Tanya Tits, most of Andre's jeans, and several outdoor tables from Andrea's, an impressive 675 feet down Thayer Street coming to a stop at the exit of the bus tunnel.

In his interview with the Accident Reconstruction team, the RIPTA bus driver that executed the coup d'état on the remains of the GTO, said he thought he drove onto a movie set.

Josh hid out in the men's room when the cops came looking for witnesses. He was able to enjoy watching, and hearing, Andre as they extracted him from his metal cocoon, Junkieman placed onto a gurney that collapsed, turning the simple leg fracture into a compound one, and the outrage on the trooper's face as he looked at the remains of his cruiser.

Josh considered the outcome a rousing success.

Josh
never drove the Mercedes. It was Keira's car. Cops do not drive Mercedes, they stop them.

Fuck it, she wants me out, well I am out, I have had it. I am not perfect like all your damn lawyer friends; I am never going to be good enough----let’s see how fast this motherfucker will go.

Sergeant Michael Gabriel "Angel" Armstrong watched the Mercedes go by. He headed north on the Parkway, expecting to find the car into the wall at Asquino’s Corner

He was not disappointed, and then he recognized the car.

Angel ran up to the Mercedes and looked at Josh. "What the fuck Josh, what were you doing?"

Josh stumbled, he fell down, got up, tried to focus on Angel. “Sarge help me roll this motherfucker over, I want knock that fucking tree down."

"Josh come on man, I will take care of this, son you need to slow down…."

Grabbing the shoulder microphone, he called dispatch. “S1 have 101 and 103 meet me at Asquino’s Corner on the parkway.”

Dispatch put out the call.

The two young cops pulled up. Angel was walking a guy toward them; they recognized Josh and looked at each other, helpless.

Angel looked at them. “Put him in the car, take him to my house, do you think you dumb asses can find that if I write down the address? Here are the keys, don't fucking lose them, got it?"

"Sure Sarge, want me to radio for a tow truck?"

"Did I ask you to do that?, Do I look incapable of doing that myself you diaper wearing, tit-feeding, piece of whale shit, did I?"

"Ah, no, but I thought that…."

"Stop right there, we do not pay you to think, we do not trust you to think, you just follow my directions to the fucking letter, got it?"

"Yes Sergeant."

"Then drive him to my house, now. Put him in the spare room. That will be the room where my wife is not sleeping. If you wake her up, or in any other way fail to follow my directive, I will skin you both."

The officers just nodded.

"Is there any part of this you do not understand?"

Both officers looked at each other and shook their heads,

"Good, get the fuck going."

Then Angel made two calls, one to Eddie's Towing on the special number and one to his wife.

Eddie's would take care of the car and his wife would scare the shit out of the two young cops so they would not dare share the story with anyone.