Read Online The Old Turk's Load by Gregory Gibson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gregory Gibson
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aftershave. He’d just made some easy money, or was about to make some easy money, or even thought he was about to make some easy money as a private detective. He’d be insufferable now.
In Jarkey’s jaundiced view Kelly, rather than being a hardboiled hero, was multiply addicted and delusional. Kelly himself would have agreed with that diagnosis. Everyone was addicted to something, and delusion was as necessary to life as oxygen.
Kelly dropped Richard Mundi’s file in front of Jarkey, fetched a bottle and two glasses from his desk drawer, spread out the photos and information on Kevin Gallagher and Gloria, and began recapitulating his conversation with Mundi.
“This could be a sweet job, Jark. No heavy lifting. We give him a complete rundown on the lovebirds. Maybe we catch Gallagher actually breaking the law, maybe not. After a while we’ll plant an ounce of grass in his pad and call the cops. He’ll know he’s gonna get fucked, so he’ll jump bail and disappear. End of problem for Richard Mundi.The girl mopes around for a while, then goes back to law school.”
“You’re living in Fantasy Land, Kelly. Anyway, there’s something else going on here. There always is.”
62 GREGORY GIBSON
Kelly pushed his hat back on his head,a move he’d learned from Darren McGavin’s TV portrayal of Mike Hammer, and shrugged.
They inspected the photos. Gallagher, haranguing a crowd on the Columbia campus, was a good-looking guy with a thick mustache. Gloria looked mildly pretty all prepped up in her college graduation picture, a little more mature in glasses, a sweater, skirt, and pearls, standing next to her father in front of a Christmas tree. She reminded Kelly of someone, but he couldn’t get a handle on whom.
Mundi had taken the trouble to obtain a copy of Gallagher’s rap sheet. Six months’ incarceration three years before, then nothing much, really, except trespassing and disorderly conduct—civil rights beefs—culminating in his recent arrest at an antiwar rally. The two men agreed he had the look of a committed opportunist. But he did have a record, which Kelly thought would make their job easier. He was feeling good about their prospects. Jarkey was not.
“You think this is going to be a snap. You’re wrong. I happen to know for a fact that Richard Mundi is a sizeable operator. You get caught between him and Gallagher, it’s likely to be uncomfortable. Furthermore, if it really is a family situation, it’s twisted up in a different way. Complexity you’ll never sort out.”
At that moment Kelly recalled his recent, frustrating encounter with Helen Chamberlain. “Harry, I just remembered something. I know these two. I saw them both at a party at Lloyd Chamberlain’s place the other night. And you know what they were doing? They were arguing about the fucking revolution! They’re just babies.They don’t have a clue.”
This elicited a derisive snort from Jarkey. “I still don’t like it. There’s nothing in it but trouble.”
“That, and a cool thousand.” Kelly pulled the wad out of the envelope and fanned it in his face. “On account. C’mon, Jark. Can’t you hear that money talking?”
Jarkey pushed his glasses back up his nose and blinked. “I can hear it. I’m just not sure what it’s saying.”
Jimmy, Richie, and Harlan
A
cross town Richard Mundi was having a private, high-level meeting with his partners, Jimmy Murchison and Harlan Kraft. They’d ordered in from Ruby’s and were sitting around his desk eating pastrami sandwiches and talking, just like old times— except it seemed to Mundi more like feeding hour at the nursing home.
Murchison had gotten white and gaunt, like a starving Frankenstein, the flesh pulled back from his face. It had to be the Big C, though Jimmy didn’t talk about it. Maybe they weren’t telling him, but still. As for Kraft, Mundi’d had to drag him kicking and screaming off the golf course, all wizened, a little lizard with hooded eyes.
Mundi now
In Jarkey’s jaundiced view Kelly, rather than being a hardboiled hero, was multiply addicted and delusional. Kelly himself would have agreed with that diagnosis. Everyone was addicted to something, and delusion was as necessary to life as oxygen.
Kelly dropped Richard Mundi’s file in front of Jarkey, fetched a bottle and two glasses from his desk drawer, spread out the photos and information on Kevin Gallagher and Gloria, and began recapitulating his conversation with Mundi.
“This could be a sweet job, Jark. No heavy lifting. We give him a complete rundown on the lovebirds. Maybe we catch Gallagher actually breaking the law, maybe not. After a while we’ll plant an ounce of grass in his pad and call the cops. He’ll know he’s gonna get fucked, so he’ll jump bail and disappear. End of problem for Richard Mundi.The girl mopes around for a while, then goes back to law school.”
“You’re living in Fantasy Land, Kelly. Anyway, there’s something else going on here. There always is.”
62 GREGORY GIBSON
Kelly pushed his hat back on his head,a move he’d learned from Darren McGavin’s TV portrayal of Mike Hammer, and shrugged.
They inspected the photos. Gallagher, haranguing a crowd on the Columbia campus, was a good-looking guy with a thick mustache. Gloria looked mildly pretty all prepped up in her college graduation picture, a little more mature in glasses, a sweater, skirt, and pearls, standing next to her father in front of a Christmas tree. She reminded Kelly of someone, but he couldn’t get a handle on whom.
Mundi had taken the trouble to obtain a copy of Gallagher’s rap sheet. Six months’ incarceration three years before, then nothing much, really, except trespassing and disorderly conduct—civil rights beefs—culminating in his recent arrest at an antiwar rally. The two men agreed he had the look of a committed opportunist. But he did have a record, which Kelly thought would make their job easier. He was feeling good about their prospects. Jarkey was not.
“You think this is going to be a snap. You’re wrong. I happen to know for a fact that Richard Mundi is a sizeable operator. You get caught between him and Gallagher, it’s likely to be uncomfortable. Furthermore, if it really is a family situation, it’s twisted up in a different way. Complexity you’ll never sort out.”
At that moment Kelly recalled his recent, frustrating encounter with Helen Chamberlain. “Harry, I just remembered something. I know these two. I saw them both at a party at Lloyd Chamberlain’s place the other night. And you know what they were doing? They were arguing about the fucking revolution! They’re just babies.They don’t have a clue.”
This elicited a derisive snort from Jarkey. “I still don’t like it. There’s nothing in it but trouble.”
“That, and a cool thousand.” Kelly pulled the wad out of the envelope and fanned it in his face. “On account. C’mon, Jark. Can’t you hear that money talking?”
Jarkey pushed his glasses back up his nose and blinked. “I can hear it. I’m just not sure what it’s saying.”
Jimmy, Richie, and Harlan
A
cross town Richard Mundi was having a private, high-level meeting with his partners, Jimmy Murchison and Harlan Kraft. They’d ordered in from Ruby’s and were sitting around his desk eating pastrami sandwiches and talking, just like old times— except it seemed to Mundi more like feeding hour at the nursing home.
Murchison had gotten white and gaunt, like a starving Frankenstein, the flesh pulled back from his face. It had to be the Big C, though Jimmy didn’t talk about it. Maybe they weren’t telling him, but still. As for Kraft, Mundi’d had to drag him kicking and screaming off the golf course, all wizened, a little lizard with hooded eyes.
Mundi now
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