The Rat On Fire Part 8

"You wanna see my badge?" Malatesta said.

"Yeah" Mickey said, "I wanna see your G.o.dd.a.m.ned badge."

Malatesta displayed his badge. "Be G.o.dd.a.m.ned," Mickey said. "Badge 1412, you believe that? Guy really is a cop."

"Now," Don said, "will you leave this kid alone?"

"Yup," Mickey said. "Miss, could I have a honey-dipped doughnut?"

"IT WAS REALLY quite simple," Walter Scott told Wilfrid Mack. "Alfred was due at my place at eleven. He was only an hour late. There wasn't any work, and Herbert was taking his nap in the cellar, face-down on his comic book. I didn't think anything about it. When Alfred's only an hour late, I figure it must be a national holiday, showing me some special consideration. Doesn't bother me at all. The later Alfred is, the less chance there is he'll set the place on fire, drop his joint in a display casket or something.

"Mavis called me," he said. "Must've been close to two in the morning by then. 'I need some help,' she said. I was mostly asleep. At first I thought it was somebody calling from the Southern Mortuary for a pick-up. p.i.s.sed me off. Those guys've got the regular number. There's no need to wake me up. That's what I have Herbert and Alfred and the station wagon for, along with the business number: so I can have a decent night's sleep. It was okay, I got waked up when I first started and I was building the business, but I'm gettin' along in years now, and I need my rest. Man my age.

"I was kind of grumpy," Scott said in Mack's office. "I was more than half asleep, and I wanted to be all asleep, which I had been until the d.a.m.ned phone rang. So I said, 'Call the regular number. You guys know the regular number. Call that. I got two kids to handle this kind of thing at this hour.'

"Then it hits me," Scott said. "I never heard of any women working the early shift at the Southern Mortuary. Now I admit, it's been a while. There's women all over the place, doing things I never heard of women doing. I've had kids down in the cellar for several years, handling the early-morning stuff. 'Pick 'em up and stick 'em in the icebox. I'm going to bed. See you in the morning, and I'll see the customer in the morning too.' How do I know if they got a woman working the early shift at the Southern? I haven't taken a call from the Southern on the early in years. But it's still kind of hard for me to imagine. I say, 'Who is this?' Because generally when somebody calls for a hea.r.s.e, they do not say that they need help. That is not what they usually say. See, I was starting to wake up.

" 'Mavis,' she says," Scott said. " 'Mavis Davis.' By now I am pretty much awake. At least I am not trying to figure out when they started hiring fine ladies at the Southern to work the early. 'Mavis,' I say, 'the h.e.l.l's the matter?' 'You know where Alfred is?' she says. 'In the bas.e.m.e.nt, I guess,' I say. 'He's supposed to be in the bas.e.m.e.nt anyway. I didn't check, but then I never do. He comes in at night and he goes out in the morning. I don't pay much attention to him. I pay him once a week and that is that. Why? You think he's somewhere else?'

" 'I know where he is,' she says. 'He's down at the station house.'

" 'Oh,' I said," Scott said.

" 'He is down at the station house,' she said, 'and they have locked him up and he has to go to court in the morning at ten, and I don't know Wilfrid's home phone, now that he moved.'

" 'Oh,' I said," Scott said, "because I was still waking up and everything, of course.

" 'Yes,' she said. 'He is down at the station house and he is in a cell and they will not let him out unless somebody goes there and brings a bondsman. And he probably ought to have a lawyer.' "

"Wonderful," Mack said.

"Yes," Scott said. "I thought I was employing the kid and doing his mother a favor because she is an old friend, and now I find out I apparently adopted the pair of them. This was not what I had in mind."

"No," Mack said.

" 'Mavis,' I say to her," Scott said, " 'I can't call Wilfrid at this hour of the morning and tell him to go down to the station house and get Alfred out. Wilfrid is most likely sleeping. Wilfrid needs his sleep as well. He is a busy man, and he cannot be running around all over h.e.l.l and gone all night and expect to do anything the next day. He needs his rest. Besides, if Alfred has to have Wilfrid come down and do something for him, Alfred is going to have to come up with some money, same as any other n.i.g.g.e.r.' "

"Good for you," Mack said.

"I said, 'Mavis, Alfred is a considerable amount of trouble to most of the people that know him, and Mister Mack is one of those people. Alfred gave Mister Mack a ration of s.h.i.t the other day, and I know because I was present. Mister Mack is not going to take kindly to me calling him while he is trying to get a good night's sleep, to go fish Alfred out of the can. Besides which, n.o.body can probably fish Alfred out of the can at this hour of the morning anyway. He will have to do the best he can, and when the sun comes up you go down and see if the judge will let him out. But it is not a good idea to call Mister Mack at home at this hour.

"What time was it?" Mack said.

"About two-thirty," Scott said. "By now I was just about awake. So I said to her, 'Mavis, are you telling me that the only person I have in the bas.e.m.e.nt, to go and get somebody who turns up dead between now and sunrise, is that dope-head, Herbert?' And she says, 'I don't know who's in your bas.e.m.e.nt, but Alfred is in jail.'

" 'Jesus Christ, Mavis,' I said," Scott said, " 'what in the G.o.dd.a.m.ned h.e.l.l did the little b.a.s.t.a.r.d do this time, when he was supposed to be sittin' in my cellar and waiting for somebody to die that needs to get picked up?' And she says, 'He went down to the store and he waited for Selene to get off work and Officer Peters came around. And that is what Alfred was waiting for.' "

"Oh, my G.o.d," Mack said.

"It gets worse," Scott said. "I said, 'Mavis, not that I'm asking what Alfred did, because I'm not sure I want to know, but what the h.e.l.l did Alfred do?' "

"What did Alfred do?" Mack said.

"It seems that Alfred may have had a tire iron," Scott said.

"On the a.s.sumption that Alfred had a tire iron," Mack said, "is there any theory as to what he did with it?"

"There is," Scott said. "It seems to be a little more than a theory, actually, but I leave that to your trained legal mind."

"Thank you," Mack said. "I'm not a bit sure I appreciate it, but your courtesy's appreciated."

"Could you embalm a high mucky-mucky-muck of the Improved Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks?" Scott said.

"Not successfully," Mack said.

"No," Scott said. "I will do the pickling and leave the lawyering to you.

"It appears," Scott said, "that when Selene Davis came out of that store in her little uniform with the short skirt and the reasonable impression from the eye of the observer that she was not wearing any underwear, Officer Peters arrived in his cruiser. That was all he did, as near as I can tell. Peters and his partner showed up at the store just as Selene was getting off work. They could've been there for a cup of coffee, or they could've been there because Peters had some plans for Selene. I don't know, and neither does anybody else.

"Alfred," Scott said, "was in the alley. With his tire iron. Alfred started yelling when he saw Selene coming out of the store and Peters getting out of the car. This was a mistake."

"Wait a minute," Mack said. "The way I get it so far, only three things've happened. Selene comes out of the store. Peters comes out of the cruiser. Alfred comes out of the alley."

"Right," Scott said. "Alfred is supposed to be sitting in my cellar, waiting for the phone to ring so he can wake up Herbert and the two of them can go get a stiff, but Alfred instead is in the alley with his tire iron."

"Now Alfred is out of the alley," Mack said.

"He is certainly out of the alley," Scott said. "And he is howling like a fellow who has lost his mind. The trouble is that what he is howling is what he is about to do to Officer Peters for messing around with his sister, with this tire iron that he happens to have with him."

"Good," Mack said. "What did he do?"

"Well," Scott said, "as you know, and I know much better'n you, Alfred is not the most successful brother on the earth. He is not much better with a tire iron and a cop than he is with reporting to work on time, which if he had done it, he would not have gotten in this sc.r.a.pe with the cop that he was charging with the tire iron.

"Peters's partner," Scott said, "saw Alfred coming out of the alley and waving the tire iron, and he got out of that cruiser right smart. Alfred was on the way to giving Peters a couple hard licks upside the head when Cole tackled him around the knees and brought him down. Alfred thought it would be a good idea to get loose of Cole by hitting him with the tire iron."

"Alfred is just full of good ideas," Mack said.

"This was not one of them," Scott said. "Cole knows a h.e.l.l of a lot more about hand-to-hand combat than Alfred does. Alfred ended up without his tire iron, and with a large number of b.u.mps and bruises and cuts. Alfred, in other words, had the livin' s.h.i.t beat out of him."

"Good," Mack said.

"It gets better," Scott said. "According to Mavis, once Cole'd quieted Alfred down by whacking his head against the pavement a few times, Peters gave him a kick or two just for good measure. Then they cuffed him and heaved him in the back seat and drove him down to the station and locked him up. And all the time, of course, Selene was standing there and screaming."

"Sounds great," Mack said.

"Now," Scott said, "the reason I am here this morning is to obtain counsel for Alfred Davis, and you are it."

"Walter," Mack said, "you are my old friend, and a good one, and I will do this for you. Just as soon as I see ten thousand dollars in American money on this desk. But not until."

"Wilfrid," Scott said, "you are an old friend of mine as well. And so is Mavis Davis. It has always been my point of view that one old friend of mine should be relied upon to help another old friend of mine who does not happen to have ten thousand dollars but has a son in trouble."

"Walter," Mack said, "Alfred is a very troublesome son. He is a hateful child. He is mean and he is vicious and he is a liar. When I say the fee is ten grand, it is five for the case, which I will surely lose and he will go to jail again and that will be a d.a.m.ned good thing for almost everybody, and five for putting up with that little c.o.c.ksucker and his antics. Ten grand."

"Mavis is on her way to the courthouse," Scott said. "Alfred is going to be brought in one hour and twenty minutes from now."

"Have her get him a Public Defender," Mack said.

"Mavis does not want a Public Defender," Scott said, "any more than you would want a pauper's funeral, and for just about the same reason. Those guys're good, but they are overworked."

"On this case," Mack said, "it probably wouldn't make much difference. There isn't any way to win it."

"That doesn't matter to Mavis," Scott said. "She wants you to represent him."

"Ten grand," Mack said.

"Okay," Scott said. "The Elks're going to be sorry to hear you took this att.i.tude."

"What do you mean?" Mack said.

"Just what I said," Scott said. "Comes around primary time, Senator Mack is up for reelection, the Elks'll still be sorrowful."

"Uh-huh," Mack said.

"There is nothing worse'n a sorrowful Elk," Scott said.

"You made your point," Mack said. "I'll be in court. What time?"

"Ten," Scott said. "I knew I could count on you to take care of a good friend."

THERE WERE TWO KIDS in the alley at Bristol Road when Proctor and Dannaher pulled up in the van. The kids at once ran away.

"Little b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," Dannaher said. "Oughta be in school."

"They are in school," Proctor said. "Breaking and Entering School. We just interrupted their practice, is all."

"They could recognize us," Dannaher said.

"Right," Proctor said, "they could recognize us. Those guys took off like we was the heat. Come on, will ya? You worry too much." He parked the van, got out and opened the rear doors. He removed a large toolbox which did not clank very much. He went around to the pa.s.senger side of the van. "I said, 'Come on, will ya?' " he said. "You deaf or something? For Christ sake, Jimma, you want the f.u.c.kin' money or not?"

"Those kids saw us," Dannaher said from the pa.s.senger seat.

"Which is why they ran, of course," Proctor said. "They're scared s.h.i.tless of us."

"They could've took the license number," Dannaher said.

"They could've," Proctor said. "Lemme ask you somethin', all right, Jimma? You ever get up inna middle the night, take a p.i.s.s?"

"Of course I did," Dannaher said. "Only thing there is good about being in the slammer-toilet's right there. 'Course there was one guy that I was in the cell with, and it didn't matter how you peed down the side of the bowl there, he would wake up and pretend he was still sleepin' and grab your c.o.c.k while you were still going at it. But yeah, I remember."

"Okay," Proctor said. "Now, when you were busy trying to take a leak, you had your mind on doing that, right? Nothing else."

"Yeah," Dannaher said.

"Same thing with those kids," Proctor said. "They had their mind on going in some window and swiping somebody's color TV that they could sell for thirty bucks and get themselves some drugs. And then they see this truck come around the corner and they beat it because they figure we're gonna recognize them. You get a look at their faces?"

"No," Dannaher said.

"d.a.m.ned right you didn't," Proctor said. "You got a look at their faces, there is a good possibility you might be able, identify them in some line-up or something. Which does not interest them. So they beat it. You got eyes, the back of your head?"

"You're an a.s.shole," Dannaher said.

"I haven't, either," Proctor said. "That's why I don't think two kids takin' off down an alley probably got a license number off a truck. Now will you get the f.u.c.k out of there and carry the stuff with me, or are you gonna sit there and have your f.u.c.kin' period again?"

"Leo," Dannaher said.

" 'Leo' nothin'," Proctor said. "We been all through this before. You're gonna get outta the f.u.c.kin' truck and you're gonna help me and we are gonna do what we came here to do and then we are gonna leave. Otherwise you are not gonna get no money."

Dannaher got out of the truck. He took a toolbox. They walked down the alley, Proctor in front.

Proctor and Dannaher walked down the alley and turned right into the back yard. They descended the stone steps to the bas.e.m.e.nt, opened the wooden door and went in. Proctor switched on the three-cell flashlight.

"Over there," Proctor whispered, "next to all that junk in the coal bin. The thing that used to be the coal bin."

Proctor and Dannaher opened the toolboxes and removed rags soaked in paint thinner and kerosene. They piled them in a pyramid next to the wooden wall of the coal bin. Proctor took a bottle cap from his pocket. From his toolbox he removed a length of string four feet long.

"Whaddaya gonna do with that?" Dannaher said.

"Just what I soaked it in the chemicals for," Proctor said. "It's a fuse. This is eight minutes of time. Burns half a foot a minute. Gimme that rubbing alcohol in your box."

Dannaher handed Proctor the isopropyl alcohol. Proctor filled the bottle cap with alcohol and handed the bottle back to Dannaher. Dannaher capped it and returned it to the toolbox. Proctor lifted one edge of the rags and placed the bottle cap under it. He draped the string across the top of the bottle cap.

"Ready to leave?" Proctor said.

"Been ready since before I came in here," Dannaher said.

Proctor took out a plastic throwaway lighter and ignited the string. It glowed instead of burning with flame. He watched it glow for about fifteen seconds. " 'Kay," he said, "let's go."

JERRY FEIN LEFT the house in his sport coat, tie and slacks that morning without telling his wife that he was going to play golf. He went directly to the Bay State Country Club, changed, and was off the first tee by nine-thirty. He played eighteen holes, had a vodka and tonic and a club sandwich on the terrace, returned to the first tee and began another round.

When he finished he had two vodka tonics on the terrace with his friend, Max Winch.e.l.l, who had left his insurance business early to get in nine holes before dinner. Max said he wished he had gone to law school so that he could also forget about the office on a nice summer day and spend it playing golf and having a good time for himself. He said that if he took a whole day off in the middle of the week like that, his business would go straight to h.e.l.l and pretty soon he would not be able to pay the dues and the greens fees and the bar chits and the restaurant charges at the Bay State Country Club in Newton, Ma.s.sachusetts.

Max said his secretary would have him paged at the golf course every time he teed up a shot and he would not be able to keep his mind on the game anyway. He said that Gloria was about as bright as cole slaw or maybe potato salad, and that she would call him up at every tee to see if it was all right to open an envelope that came in the mail and then call him again to see if he minded if she sealed an envelope to go out in the mail. Max said that Gloria was in the process of getting a divorce and that he was therefore in the process of Gloria getting her divorce, because the whole thing was making a young girl who wasn't too bright to begin with into some kind of a daffy basket case who spent all day talking about her divorce case and no time at all doing work for Max Winch.e.l.l and Company that was paying her.

Max reminded Jerry Fein that he, Max, had been through his own divorce action four and a half years ago and he was just then getting back on his feet both financially and emotionally and he did not have any interest whatsoever in going through Gloria's divorce with her. He said he would still like to know when Jerry Fein was finally going to do the right thing by his old friend, Max, and start insuring all his profitable real estate with Max so that Max would have a little help from his old friend Jerry in the course of getting back on his feet again, both financially and emotionally.

Jerry Fein said, "Max, you are in business in a nice suburb, and when somebody says to you that he has some real estate that he rents out, you automatically think it is something where Jewish widow ladies go and sit out by the swimming pool on nice days like this and schmoos a little.

"The trouble with what you think, Max," Jerry Fein said, "is that it is not true in my case and you should be very happy and grateful to me that you do not have the business of insuring the property that I got in Boston, because if I ever gave you that business you would not be able to play golf even in the dark. Because the people who live in my buildings are not nice and they do not pay their rent and they are always doing something to those buildings that every so often costs more to fix than the five-hundred-dollar deductible which is the most policy that anybody is willing to write for me even though I do pay a fortune for it. And I would therefore be calling you up all the time and bothering Gloria and distracting her from all the fun she is having with her divorce, all right?