Hooligans (68 page)

shards of glass and dirt in little waves below it. Cowboy Lewis jumped out and dashed from under the

whirring blades.

I found Doe in the back, standing with Dutch. Her eyes were as round as quarters and she was

trembling. I‟m sure she was as confused as she was stunned by the sudden explosion of activity and

by the destruction. I walked straight over to her and an instant later she was huddled against me,

burrowing into my chest with her nose, like a puppy.

“What in hell happened?” Dutch asked as the rest of the group began to gather around us. He sounded

like he was in shock. I realized it was the first time I had seen all of the hooligans together at one

time. All but one.

“Nance lifted Mrs. Raines and me off the street in front of her townhouse,” I answered. “Stick hit the

place and got us out. Just that simple.”

I looked back down the hill.

“We need to get somebody down there,” I said. You could hardly hear my voice. “Stick‟s lying t the

bottom of the hill.”

“Is he dead?” Salvatore asked.

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“Aw, shit,” Cowboy Lewis said. “Aw, shit!”

He started down the hill and Dutch tried to stop him. “We got an ambulance on the way, Cowboy,” he

said gently.

“I‟m gonna get him. Fuck the ambulance.”

“I‟ll go along,” Charlie One Ear said, and followed him through the smoke.

Callahan strolled out of the wreckage looking startled, with Kite Lange behind him carrying the

extinguisher. “All dead in there,” he said incredulously. “Every last one of „em. I count ten. Biggest

total yet.”

“Why in hell would they kidnap you?” Salvatore said.

“Costello wanted to make a deal. He was willing to turn up Nance and Chevos and dump Sam

Donleavy and Charles Seaborn if I‟d get him off the hook.”

“Otherwise?”

“He was going to kill us.”

Dutch squinted his eyes and looked down his nose at me.

“How‟s that again?”

I had started another lie. I was getting pretty good at it by now.

“Let me give you the scenario, okay? Nance and Chevos were going to throw in with Bronicata and

Cohen, get rid of the rest of the family, and take over the town. Nance was the official shooter. I don‟t

know the reasons—what difference does it make anyhow? There‟s none of them left to disagree. Any

problems with that?”

Dutch humphed and shuffled his feet around a bit.

“How about Nance?” Mufalatta asked.

“He‟s floating around in the bay,” I said. “Stick‟s last official act.”

“We got the weapons? Any of that?” Dutch asked.

“They fell in the bay,” I said.

They all looked at each other, then back at Dutch, and then at me.

“How about the toot?” Zapata asked.

“In the mast of the sailboat that‟s burning down there,” I said. “By now it‟s either in the bay or turned

to charcoal.”

I looked at each of the hooligans in turn, waiting for comments. Only Dutch spoke up.

“It ain‟t gonna work,” he said. “There‟s holes in it.”

“Fuck the holes,” Salvatore said.

“It‟ll work,” I said.

“How about Titan? Chief?”

“I‟ll take care of that.”

“It‟s some story,” Dutch said, shaking his head.

“You got a better one?” I asked.

Cowboy came back up the hill with Stick over his shoulder. He laid him on the grass away from the

building and started to take off his Windbreaker.

“Don‟t do that,” I said. “Don‟t cover him up.”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Whatever you say,” he replied.

“Anybody else got any problems with the story?” I asked.

“What story?” Cowboy asked. “I missed it.”

I repeated it for Cowboy and Charlie One Ear. Charlie One Ear raised his eyebrows and greeted the

outcome with a wry smile. But his answer was instantaneous.

“I don‟t see a problem,” he said. One by one they all chimed in. No problem, they agreed.

“I‟ve got to get the lady home,” I said. “Anybody got a car I can use?”

Half a dozen sets of car keys were offered. I took Dutch Morehead‟s sedan. It was the only one I was

sure was clean.

As we were walking away, the Mufalatta Kid said, “Hey, Kilmer?”

I turned around. “Yeah?”

“We‟re gonna need to replace Stick. You ought to think about that.”

“Thanks. I‟ll do that,” I said. And smiled for the first time in several hours.

77

When we got to the end of the lane leading to Windsong, Stonewall Titan‟s black limousine was

parked in the drive. Luke Burger, the sheriff‟s man, was leaning against the hood of the car. He didn‟t

take his eyes off me from the moment I stepped out of the car I had borrowed from Dutch.

I started toward the house and he said, “Just a minute there. Gonna have to pat you down.”

“Don‟t even think about it,” I said, without looking at him or slowing down. I‟d had enough of hard

talk and tough people for one night. I put an arm around Doe, led her across the long green lawn to the

house, around the porch, and up the front steps to the door. Warren, the family retainer, opened it

before I got a hand on the doorknob, as if a psychic doorbell had rung inside his head. He was older

and grayer and arthritis had slowed him down, but he was as starched and precise as ever.

“Good evening, sir,” he said with a smile, as if it were twenty years ago and I was dropping by for

dinner. Then he looked closer at both of us and added, “Gracious, ire you all right?”

“We‟re okay,” I said as we went into the broad entrance hall. I had feared coming hack to this house

with its ghosts, long gone. But now I had too many other things on my mind, and so there was only

curiosity. I figured the years would have distorted my memory of the place, but there were few

surprises. I doubt that a single picture, vase, or stick of furniture had been moved in two decades. It

was like a museum, preserving the past for future generations of Findleys, generations that would no

longer carry the name, which had died with Teddy. Warren led us through the sprawling entrance hail

with its twin curved staircase at the far end, and into a sitting room large enough to accommodate a

Legionnaires‟ convention.

Chief and Titan were waiting there. It was a room cloyed by nostalgia, all wicker and antiques, its

tabletops choked with framed pictures of every size and shape—laughing pictures of Doe and Teddy

as children, teenagers, college kids, and finally adults, if in fact they had ever grown up.

The old man looked up from his wheelchair with almost orgasmic relief when Doe came into the

room. He held out his arms and she rushed into them, as if she had just returned from a long trip.

Titan stood in front of the dominant fireplace, smoking a short, stubby cigar which he held between

two fingers like a cigarette. You could almost feel the relief in the room, like a warm breeze seeping

through the shuttered windows.

Chief was the first to speak. He looked at me over Doe‟s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “You‟re a brave man.”

“Not really,” I said. “It was my stupidity that got us into trouble in the first place.”

Doe said, “We‟re back, Daddy. That‟s all that matters.”

“We‟ll make it up to you, son,” Chief said, hanging on to her as if he were afraid the tide was going to

rush in and carry her away.

“You don‟t owe me anything,” I said. “It was Stick who bailed us out.”

“Stick?” Chief said.

Both he and Titan tried to cover their surprise, but they were not very good actors.

“A cop. You probably know him better as Mickey Parver,” I said, when it had sunk in.

“What happened out there, doughboy?” Titan asked. “There hasn‟t been much in the way of radio

communication for the last two hours.”

“We were too busy to bother,” I said curtly.

I gave them a sketchy report on what had happened from the time we left the Breezes until the

shooting was over.

“Costello, Bronicata, Chevos, and Turk Nance are all dead, along with nine of their gunslingers,” I

said.

“My Cod,” Chief whispered, clutching Doe even tighter.

“The four of them were behind the Tagliani killings,” I went on. “My guess is that Nance did most of

the work, although we‟ll never know for sure.”

Titan looked up as if a bee had stung him, then said, “Well, I‟ll be damned.”

“It will all work out because Parver didn‟t make it,” I said. “He went down saving me and Doe.”

Titan stared at me. A long minute crept by before he said, “What do you mean, it will work out?”

“I mean for the record, it will work out.”

“1 thought you just said Costello was behind it all, doughboy,” Titan said cautiously.

“I think I can sell the idea. Who‟s around to argue, right?” Doe looked at me with curiosity.

“I don‟t understand,” she said.

“We don‟t need to talk about this right now,” Chief said.

“Talk about what? You couldn‟t get me out of the room now if you tried!” she protested.

“Let it pass,” Titan said, looking at his feet.

“No!” Doe said. She stood up. “That is this all about?” Chief said, “It‟s nothing, baby. just business.”

“What kind of business?” she persisted.

I said, “The business of murder.” I wanted her to know. I wanted all the dark corners swept clean,

once and for all.

„Tell her,” said Chief. He was too old and tired to argue.

“The thing is, we know better, don‟t we, Mr. Stoney?” I said. Titan turned his back to me and stared

into the empty fireplace. “Parver was an agent of the Freeze, the same outfit I‟m in, but

he was assigned to Dutch Morehead and his squad,” I said. “Stick claimed he didn‟t know anything

about the Cincinnati „Triad until my boss, Cisco Mazzola, tumbled on to it a month or so ago. It went

by me at the time. I‟ve never been much on filing reports. That was one of my mistakes.”

“You mean you‟re capable of making a mistake?” Titan asked caustically.

“Oh, I made a lot of them,” I said. “We all did.”

“For instance?” Titan asked.

“For instance, I had a five-man team in Cincinnati for three years working on the Tagliani case. There

were pictures, newspaper clippings, snitch reports, and a link analysis on the Triad in our confidential

files. Stick had spent six months studying our computer reports before he came here. He knew all

about Tagliani and his bunch. Stick made the Triad right after he got here. Had to be. The question is,

who did he take the information to?”

Nobody said anything. Doe still looked confused.

“No takers?” I said. “Okay, I‟ll try. I think he came to you, Mr. Stoney. You‟re the logical one, not

Dutch. You‟re the one with the iron hand. You represented the law on the Committee.”

He didn‟t say anything, he kept staring at the fireplace.

“So you asked Parver to kill Tagliani,” I finished.

Titan turned around and glared hard at me from across the room.

“Now why would he do a damn fool thing like that?” Doe said, getting defensive.

“Two reasons, I can think of. To protect Harry Raines‟ career, and to break the Triad‟s back.”

“Hah,” said Titan. “I‟m not a miracle worker.”

“You‟re just finding that out,” I said, and before he could respond, I went on, “I think you honestly

believed by getting rid of Tagliani, you could run the Triad off, the old „get out of town before sunset‟

routine, but it was a risky move. Then you found out I was coming down here and the whole story

would come out, so you cut Stick loose in desperation. You knew the press here would buy anything

they were told. You could write the killing off as some kook slaying, or better still, you could let

Graves be the fall guy. As long as it couldn‟t be proven, he didn‟t give a damn. He never even denied

killing Cherry McGee, even though it was Tagliani who had the job done. And Stick cased that setup

by hijacking Graves‟ cocaine shipment. That provided the final motive, if one was needed at all.”

Doe stared at me, her expression changing from bewilderment to disbelief.

“That‟s just plain crazy,” she said. “Isn‟t that so, Mr. Stoney?”

Titan sneered at the idea.

“I‟ll admit, it was a rather naive notion on your part,” I said. “It‟s understandable, though. You

thought you were still playing by your rules; if you need to get rid of someone, do it the quickest way

possible, like framing Tony Lukatis because he was a potential threat to Raines. Or suggesting Stick

use him on the hijacking run and then get rid of him. Graves‟ people and Tony were both shot with

the same gun—Stick‟s. Aw, hell, I guess when you‟ve run a town for forty years, playing God comes

easy.”

Doe, still confused, looked at me and said, “Whose side are you on, Jake?”

“Nobody‟s. I‟m just a simple cop trying to do his job. It‟s really none of my affair anyway, except I

contributed to it.”

“How?” she asked.

“By convincing myself that Nance was the killer because I wanted him to be. For awhile I even -tried

to build a case against Harry, because I wanted you.‟

“You did that?” she said, moving away from me.

“Yeah,” I said, “we all did a little God playing. Stick certainly did his share. And you, Mr. Stoney.

“That‟s good thinkin‟, doughboy,‟ said Titan. “There‟s only one thing wrong with it.”

“And what‟s that?” I asked.

“It wasn‟t my idea at all,” he said, pausing for effect, and then his lip curled up in a smile. “It was

Parver‟s idea from the start.”

“Why?” I demanded. “What did he want out of it?”

“Not one damn thing,” Titan said. “Besides, if what you say‟s true, how come he didn‟t stop at just