Some tears come easily. Not all of them mean anything.
Alligator Tears
Written by Don Blinebry | Noir and Nonsense Originals
Synopsis
When his ex-girlfriend is murdered, a man goes after the one she left him for.
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It was a week for consequences. The unexpected kind that sometimes land on your doorstep. They’re not welcome. They don’t care. They arrive anyway.
The first came in a four-a.m. call from an ex-girlfriend telling me Carmine was threatening to kill her. Carmine was the gym trainer she ran off with when my late nights started interfering with what she thought our relationship should be. I’m in the saloon business and late nights are part of the territory, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Carmine was a gym rat. A piecework collector for the neighborhood loan shark and a piece-of-shit in every other sense. Sylvia, the ex, was a blonde-haired beauty with a strained relationship to the truth. It generally depended on the advantage it gave her. Here was a match it would be hard to improve on.
I told Sylvia to meet me at a diner we both knew. One of those greasy spoons whose stock in trade was stale coffee and Greek immigrants with bad eyes and tight lips. She was late.
“I was trying to make sure I wasn’t followed, Rick. I’m so scared.”
“You’re always scared of something, Sylvie. Not scared enough to avoid me. What’s different this time? And what makes you think you can come to me for help?”
“It’s Carmine. He’s crazy. He threatened to kill me.”
“Yeah, so you said.”
“I’m serious, Rick. I think it’s the drugs. Every time they come out with some new muscle building potion, he starts shooting up. I don’t even know what he’s taking anymore.”
“I can tell you one thing he took. What the two of you took. Twenty grand out of my safe when you walked out. When do I get that back?”
“Some of that was mine. I helped you build that bar.”
“Oh, is that what dropping in for free drinks and flirting with customers was about? I thought you were just looking for attention.”
“You’re being mean. I’m scared to death and you’re being mean.”
“Don’t give me tears, Sylvia. Save them for Carmine. He’s just dumb enough to believe you. Me, I know there’s a half dozen alligators somewhere with dry eyes.”
“I’m sorry, Rick, but I don’t have anybody else to turn to. I need your help.”
“And I don’t have any to give. For all I know, you and Carmine blew through the twenty large and this is just a shakedown for more. I’m done with you, Sylvia. I’m done with the lies. I’m done with the drama. I’m done with the bullshit. I warned you about burning bridges. This is what happens.”
“So . . . you’re just going to leave me here?”
“Isn’t that what you did? Just left me? No note. No apologies. No explanation. Just an empty closet and an open safe. This is what reprisal tastes like. Get used to it.”
“Rick, you can’t . . ..
“Good-bye, Sylvia. You can put your breakfast on my tab. Right now, I have to go find some eyedrops for the alligators.”
~~
It was a couple of days before consequences came calling again. When they did, it was in the form of Sean Dugan, a good Irish cop with bad drinking habits.
“Are you Mister Richard Brody?” He kicked a stool out of the way and leaned his bulk against the bar.
“When somebody with a badge uses your full name, they better have it spelled right on the warrant.”
“First or last?”
“Both, to be technical. This joint doesn’t open for another hour. To what do I owe the displeasure of your company? You don’t usually come calling this early.”
“A need for bourbon.”
“You’ve come to the right place, but aren’t you on duty?”
“You’re right. Better make it a double.”
“There’s my boy.” I poured a couple of fingers for both of us and pushed his glass across the bar. “May the road rise up.”
We finished our drinks in silence before Sean spoke. “I ain’t here with good news, Rick. There’s no way to really soften this, so I’ll say it straight out. Sylvia is dead.”
The news wasn’t unexpected. How much it hurt was. I refilled both our glasses. “How?”
“Couple of dog walkers found her in the park. Behind the maintenance shed by the wading pool. She took quite a beating. Coroner don’t know if it was that or strangulation that killed her. Said he’ll know after the autopsy.”
“Carmine.”
“Maybe. We got an all points out. We’ll find him. I know you and her weren’t an item no more, but I still gotta ask. When’s the last time you saw Sylvia? Talked to her?”
“Couple of days ago. She called me. Said Carmine threatened her. She wanted my help. I didn’t give her any. Maybe I should have.”
“Yeah, and maybe it wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference.”
“But I didn’t. Now it’s too late. Now I’ll never know.”
“Leave it alone, Rick. You’ll only make it worse.”
“It’s already worse. This time, somebody pays the piper.”
“We don’t know for certain it was Carmine. There’s no evidence to tie him to this. Don’t go off half-cocked, Rick.”
“If Carmine goes to ground, you’ll never find him. I will. I don’t have the restrictions of a badge. Easier for me to bring him in.”
“Breathing?”
“Possibly.”
“I’d hate to be in the position of having to arrest you. Let the police handle it.”
“You have other fish to fry, Sean. I don’t. Drink up.” I poured a generous measure into his glass and left the bottle. “This shouldn’t take long. I’ll let you know what I find.”
~~
The next hours were spent driving around the city, looking for Carmine’s red Porche. The hours turned to night and back to daylight. Still nothing. I was parked in the gravel courtyard of a busy block on the city’s south side when the sandman decided I needed sleep. It was nearly noon when I woke.
Coffee was the first thing on my mind. I was looking for the exit when I spotted it. Not the Porche. Sylia’s yellow Sunbeam convertible. The same car she’d driven to the diner. If Carmine was driving it, he was in the area. Coffee lost first place to consequence.
There was a pool hall on this block run by a man named Harper. If Carmine was in the vicinity, he’d be there. I parked behind the Sunbeam so it couldn’t back out, put a .38 in my pocket and walked down the alley to the front. Through the plate glass, I could see Carmine at the big table—the money table.
Harper was sitting behind the counter when I walked in. He’d done a couple of five to sevens for trafficking stolen goods before he converted to discretion. This was someone you could trust. We exchanged nods and he jerked a thumb in the direction of a table in the back.
A couple of people saw me coming and figured out I wasn’t there for the entertainment value. They gave me a wider berth.
Engrossed in his game, Carmine never turned around. He was taller than I was. Probably a little heavier. It didn’t matter. His muscle was the product of a needle full of steroids. Mine came from carrying hod. I knew which one I trusted.
Carmine had pulled his long hair into a ponytail. He was on tip-toe and arched over the table to lineup a shot. A look at the wire told me he wasn’t having a good day. It was about to get a lot worse.
I put a heel into the back of his knee. When he stumbled backward, I grabbed his ponytail with one hand and his custom pool cue with the other. I used his hair to hold his head against the table and broke the skinny end of his cue over the rail. I pressed the splintered end against his neck to make sure he had the feel of it.
“Game over, Carmine. You lose. Pay the man and let’s go.”
“I . . . I can’t leave. Sal is pissed. Said I gotta stay until he gets here.” Sal was the local shylock with a long memory and a short temper. Carmine’s sometimes employer.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what Sal says. I saw Sylvia’s car in the back. You’re driving it and Sylvia is in the morgue. Now you’re going downtown to pay for putting her there.”
“That wasn’t me, Rick. I swear to God. Jeez, be careful with that thing. I never touched her. I woke up day before yesterday and she was gone. Nicky, Sal’s money, my Porche—all gone. Now I gotta ‘splain this to Sal.”
“Who the hell is Nicky? And what have you been doing for the last day and a half, Carmine? You didn’t seem so damn concerned a few minutes ago.”
“I was looking for Sylvia. I swear. Spent all day yesterday lookin’ for her an’ Nicky. You know him. My cousin. Used to work at the gym with me. I didn’t find out Sylvia was dead until this morning when Sal told me.”
“Why would Sylvia leave with Nicky?”
“Who knows why she did anything? Nicky always had a thing for her. Maybe she wanted more attention. We find Nicky, we’ll find my car. Maybe Sal’s money, if any of it’s left. Whatever happened to Sylvia, it was Nicky she was with.”
It was hard to tell if Carmine was telling the truth. Maybe he was bullshitting in an effort to buy time. He was plenty scared. Wondering if someone is going to run your neck through with the business end of a broken pool cue will do that.
I decided to take a chance. I could always kill him later if I found out he was lying. I put the broken stick on the table and let go of his ponytail. In the same motion, I pulled the .38 and leveled it at his head.
“Don’t get stupid on me, Carmine. I don’t have a problem putting a hole in you. Maybe two or three. Turn around.” I ran a hand over him. There was no hardware. “Okay, out the back. You better hope we find your cousin pretty damn quick. My patience has a short shelf life and the clock is ticking.”
I told Carmine to drive my car and climbed into the passenger seat. The glove box yielded a pair of bracelets and I cuffed his right wrist to the steering wheel. Having friends with badges gives you access to interesting toys.
“What the . . . how the hell am I supposed to drive like this?”
“Carefully, Carmine. Don’t scratch my car. You don’t want to know the body damage you’d suffer if that happened.”
Carmine proved to be a quick study. The prospect of imminent pain has that effect. We spent the next several hours visiting Nicky’s regular haunts to no avail. Through it all, he kept a running commentary trying to convince me he had nothing to do with Sylvia’s death.
“I mean, yeah, we fought. Hell, we fought like cats and dogs, but I never hit her. She’d be all lovey-dovey one minute and then the claws come out as soon as she doesn’t get her way. She was like that.”
“The word is mercurial and yes, I know how she was. You should look into getting a larger vocabulary, Carmine.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with my vocabulary. I’m just sayin’ . . . hey, Rocco. C’mere.”
A man with a swarthy face and over-sized belly approached the car. He stopped short when he saw me, squinting to see if recognition would follow. Carmine responded to the unasked question.
“He’s okay. Listen, you seen my cousin, Nicky? Sonofabitch took the Porche and I’m stuck driving this piece of . . . my friend’s car.”
The reassurance prompted the man forward, “He was at Angelo’s earlier. Said he was getting a car detailed. Yours? I wouldn’t let Nicky drive my car if he’s drinking again.”
~~
Angelo’s was a bar in a rundown section of the city frequented by lowlifes and wannabe wise guys. We found Nicky sitting at the bar, nursing a beer. He never noticed our approach. I grabbed the shoulder of his jacket and pulled him off his stool.
“Outside, Nicky. Your Mama wants a word with you. Lead the way, Carmine. Don’t do anything stupid.” On the street, Nicky got up close and personal with the front of the building while I ran a hand over him. I took the Smith & Wesson out of my pocket to make sure he knew what he was up against. “Start talking, Nicky. You were the last person to see Sylvia alive.”
“That’s not true, Rick. She was alive when I brought her back. Tell him, Carmine.”
“Shut up, Nicky. You don’t have to tell him nothin’.”
“That’s right, Nicky. Listen to your cousin. You don’t have to tell me anything. The boys in the interrogation room will take out the rubber hose. They’ll get any information they want and you’ll take a beating for nothing.”
“Sylvia was alive when I brought her back, I swear. Tell him, Carmine. She was just coughing a little.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Carmine down on one knee as if he was tying a shoe. Then it occurred to me he’d been wearing loafers in the pool hall. I brought the grip of the revolver down hard on the back of his head. He sprawled on the sidewalk.
“Drop the weapon” came the command. A couple of black and whites had shown up in response to somebody’s call. More followed. Several officers with guns drawn surrounded our little party.
I put the .38 on the pavement and showed them the palms of my hands. “Get Sean Dugan from Homicide down here. He wants these two for the park murder on Tuesday. There’s an APB out on this one. Check his right leg. He’s got an ankle holster.”
~~
A week had gone by before Dugan paid another early morning visit to the bar. It was a welcome distraction. “To what do I owe this blatant police harassment?”
“It’s nothing personal, Rick. I just have to slap the riff-raff around periodically. People need reassurance I’m doing the job they pay me for. And, in case you’re interested, Nicky cut a deal with the district attorney to turn state’s evidence.”
“I’m interested.”
“It was the coroner’s report that did it. Sylvia was strangled, not beaten to death. Once Nicky saw a chance to dodge a capital offense, he started talking.”
“But why did Nicky beat Sylvia in the first place?”
“Because Carmine told him to. Well, sort of. Nicky owed Carmine money. Carmine was pissed that Sylvia never shared any of the money she took from you. He tells Nicky they’ll be square if he gets Sylvia to say where the money is. So, Nicky beats the information out of her. They go get the money and Carmine comes up with a new plan. He tells Nicky he’s taking Sylvia to the hospital. Instead, he takes her to the park and strangles her and tells Nicky she died on the way. Nicky thinks it’s the beating that killed her.”
“And he panics.”
“Sure. Once Carmine had Sylvia’s money, he puts out the word she stole Sal’s money and skipped town with Nicky. All he has to do is kill Nicky and he has all of the money and none of the blame.”
“Now he’ll fry.”
“I imagine. I need a drink. I came here for bourbon.”
“Aren’t you on duty?”
“You’re right. Better make it a double.”
“There’s my boy.” I poured a couple of fingers for both of us.
Evidence Room
Found in the aftermath.
Things you should’ve said.
Now you can.
