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Authors: Andrew Vachss
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the papers. Every day. Big coverage. TV, radio. No place to hide. Most of the time, when the. . . homosexuals get attacked, it never even gets out, you know? They don’t even go to the cops. Those little demonstrations, they are nothing.”
I nodded, against my will, agreeing with him. Thinking of Crystal Beth. Dead and gone. Just because some freak who couldn’t face what was in himself had to go and. . .
“This ‘Avenger’ guy, he is speaking sense to me, mahn,” Clarence finished my thought. “They kill your people, you kill them.”
“Like the Israelis and the Arabs?” Michelle challenged, pink beginning to creep into her peaches-and-cream.
“Israel is still standing, Little Sister,” Clarence said. “Would it be so if she waited for the United Nations to protect her from her enemies?”
“That clue is true,” the Prof said. “Ain’t a motherfucker on the planet don’t know the Israeli bible.”
Michelle looked a question at the little man.
“
Two
eyes for an eye,” he answered her. Then he turned to the rest of us. “Been pretty quiet since this ‘Avenger’ guy started playing his number. . . .”
“And
that
is who they want you to find, mahn?” Clarence asked me.
“That’s what they say,” I told him.
“But. . . what?” Michelle asked.
“Clarence has got a point,” I said. “Why me? Sure, I was tight with Vincent, and he might have told them a few things. But they got beaucoup cash. Made that clear. Why not just. . .?”
“They told you that part, Schoolboy,” the Prof said. “I think they’re for real on it. The Man wants to stop him before he hits again. But these boys, they want you to stop him before he gets
caught.
Better than wasting their cash on a lawyer.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter for now,” I told everyone. “They’ll get back to me if they want to play.”
I didn’t want to play. I wanted to watch the slime who killed my woman die. I thought about that. A lot. Would Crystal Beth have wanted revenge? She was raised a hippie. Peace and love. But her father died protecting a runaway from a biker pack who said they owned her. And her mother followed him later, taking his killers along for the ride. Much later, Crystal Beth got into the business too. Running that safehouse for stalking victims. Until she became one herself. That’s when I came in. And by the time we were all done, the walls were splattered.
Would she have wanted it? I couldn’t puzzle it out. So I faced the truth.
I
did. Me.
But I didn’t have a clue. And if the cops did, they weren’t saying. So I thought I’d get myself an alibi and see if the Avenger would do some of his work while I was covered.
I hadn’t been in the basement poolroom for years, but the old man nodded like he’d seen me yesterday. My cue was still in the rack, held in place by a tiny little lock. I took it down, unscrewed it, checked the hollowed-out compartment in the heavily taped butt. Empty. Nobody’d left me a message there for a long time.
Been a long time since I’d played too, and it showed—only took ten minutes to attract one of the slowly circling sharks. I waved him off. I wanted witnesses, sure, but I wasn’t going to pay for them.
Hours slipped by. Toward the end, the cue ball was finally starting to obey orders. I spent the whole night working on my stroke, not paying any attention to pocketing the balls. It was after three in the morning when I settled my tab with the old man.
N othing on the news next day. Maybe he’d really gone quiet. Or, like one of the tabloids speculated, taken his own life. Dying of AIDS, that was another rumor.
I didn’t buy any of it.
I went to the track that night. Been years since I’d been to Yonkers. The whole place had changed. N O S MOKING signs everywhere. Quiet. Damn near empty. The horses were a sorry collection of low-rent claimers and nonwinners, with a few burnt-out old campaigners thrown in. Purses were real low too. Handicapping
I nodded, against my will, agreeing with him. Thinking of Crystal Beth. Dead and gone. Just because some freak who couldn’t face what was in himself had to go and. . .
“This ‘Avenger’ guy, he is speaking sense to me, mahn,” Clarence finished my thought. “They kill your people, you kill them.”
“Like the Israelis and the Arabs?” Michelle challenged, pink beginning to creep into her peaches-and-cream.
“Israel is still standing, Little Sister,” Clarence said. “Would it be so if she waited for the United Nations to protect her from her enemies?”
“That clue is true,” the Prof said. “Ain’t a motherfucker on the planet don’t know the Israeli bible.”
Michelle looked a question at the little man.
“
Two
eyes for an eye,” he answered her. Then he turned to the rest of us. “Been pretty quiet since this ‘Avenger’ guy started playing his number. . . .”
“And
that
is who they want you to find, mahn?” Clarence asked me.
“That’s what they say,” I told him.
“But. . . what?” Michelle asked.
“Clarence has got a point,” I said. “Why me? Sure, I was tight with Vincent, and he might have told them a few things. But they got beaucoup cash. Made that clear. Why not just. . .?”
“They told you that part, Schoolboy,” the Prof said. “I think they’re for real on it. The Man wants to stop him before he hits again. But these boys, they want you to stop him before he gets
caught.
Better than wasting their cash on a lawyer.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter for now,” I told everyone. “They’ll get back to me if they want to play.”
I didn’t want to play. I wanted to watch the slime who killed my woman die. I thought about that. A lot. Would Crystal Beth have wanted revenge? She was raised a hippie. Peace and love. But her father died protecting a runaway from a biker pack who said they owned her. And her mother followed him later, taking his killers along for the ride. Much later, Crystal Beth got into the business too. Running that safehouse for stalking victims. Until she became one herself. That’s when I came in. And by the time we were all done, the walls were splattered.
Would she have wanted it? I couldn’t puzzle it out. So I faced the truth.
I
did. Me.
But I didn’t have a clue. And if the cops did, they weren’t saying. So I thought I’d get myself an alibi and see if the Avenger would do some of his work while I was covered.
I hadn’t been in the basement poolroom for years, but the old man nodded like he’d seen me yesterday. My cue was still in the rack, held in place by a tiny little lock. I took it down, unscrewed it, checked the hollowed-out compartment in the heavily taped butt. Empty. Nobody’d left me a message there for a long time.
Been a long time since I’d played too, and it showed—only took ten minutes to attract one of the slowly circling sharks. I waved him off. I wanted witnesses, sure, but I wasn’t going to pay for them.
Hours slipped by. Toward the end, the cue ball was finally starting to obey orders. I spent the whole night working on my stroke, not paying any attention to pocketing the balls. It was after three in the morning when I settled my tab with the old man.
N othing on the news next day. Maybe he’d really gone quiet. Or, like one of the tabloids speculated, taken his own life. Dying of AIDS, that was another rumor.
I didn’t buy any of it.
I went to the track that night. Been years since I’d been to Yonkers. The whole place had changed. N O S MOKING signs everywhere. Quiet. Damn near empty. The horses were a sorry collection of low-rent claimers and nonwinners, with a few burnt-out old campaigners thrown in. Purses were real low too. Handicapping
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