Ronald Tierney - Good To The Last Kiss - Crimes of the Depraved Mind Series

Earl wasn’t sure how the guy meant it. ‘So, enjoy the night, huh?’ Earl moved past him.

‘Wait,’ the guy said. ‘You have to be somewhere?’

‘No,’ Earl said, turning back around.

‘Why don’t you come to my place?’

‘Why?’ Earl said.

‘We’ll figure out something,’ the guy said.

‘I’m not into drugs.’

‘We don’t have to do drugs.’

‘What are you into?’ Earl asked.

‘What do you like?’ The guy lit a cigarette.

Earl noticed the guy had that sad, pained look around the eyes. Eyes that looked older than the rest of his soft face.

Rain was coming down. The guy’s face was wet. Almost looked like he’d been crying. The guy looked agitated, frightened, confused.

Earl felt an odd stirring in his brain. He didn’t feel as he had before – with his sister and the others. Not exactly. Whatever way he had felt before, there was anger in it now.

Gratelli found the same parking spot he’d had earlier – a minor miracle despite the short time he was gone – and pulled the Taurus into the small space. The light was still on in McClellan’s apartment. In the dim street lamps across the street he saw two figures, talking to each other in the rain. Noticed one of them lighting up.

‘Smoking’ll kill you fella,’ Gratelli said aloud but to himself. Conversations this time of night, Gratelli thought there was no doubt a more dangerous deal being struck – drugs more likely. Sometimes after dark this wasn’t the best of neighborhoods. A little crack, a little meth, a little heroin. And who knows what goes down.

Gratelli tried to shrug off the wetness once inside the building’s entry hall. He went to McClellan’s door. It was unlocked. He went inside. It was still. Too still. McClellan was not in the main room.

‘Mickey?’

There was no answer. No one in the kitchen. The door to the bathroom was ajar. There was light behind it. He looked at the bedside table. The pistol was missing. Gratelli knew what he’d find. There was really no need to open the door. He did. He had to.

Earl followed the young man into the rear entrance to the apartment building. Only a little light filtered down the dingy stairway from the landing above. Earl put his hand on the fellow’s shoulder before the first step.

‘Here,’ Earl said. ‘I don’t want to go up.’

‘What?’

‘I said I don’t want to go up.’

‘Just for a few minutes,’ the guy said. ‘You don’t have to do anything.’

‘Take off your coat.’

The young man turned, took off his coat. Before he showed a nervous anticipation. Now he showed a nervous caution.

‘It’s warmer up there,’ the young man said. ‘We can relax.’

‘I don’t wanna relax.’

‘Something to drink maybe?’

‘No,’ Earl said, taking the guy’s coat and throwing it on the steps. ‘Drop your pants.’

‘Hey, I want to do it with you, but not like this.’

‘C’mon.’

‘Hey, maybe this isn’t a good idea.’

‘Turn around,’ Earl said, grabbing shoulders and forcing the guy to face the other way. Then Earl put his arm around the guy’s neck, holding him firm. ‘Drop the pants.’

‘I don’t mind getting a little kinky,’ the guy said. ‘But this isn’t…’

‘Shut up,’ Earl said, increasing the pressure on the stranger’s neck. He heard the rustle of the pants fall. He felt powerful, really powerful. ‘I’m getting tired of getting fucked,’ Earl said. ‘About time somebody else did.’ He didn’t know whether he said this out loud or just thought it.

‘Use a condom,’ came the strained voice. ‘Please use a condom.’

Earl felt the boy’s warm body against his own, pushed in, felt the warmness engulf his flesh. It was as if it was this that caused his trembling to stop. Now he had the power. This time for real.

Gratelli went out to the car, made the call. Then he went back inside. There was a note. It read: ‘Fuckin’ awful thing to do to you, I know. Remember, nothing you could have done. Nothing anybody could have done. I was past all that.’

Gratelli wadded up the paper torn from McClellan’s notebook and stuffed the wad in his pocket. He sat down on the edge of the bed. Mickey had tried to minimize the mess. The tile in the bathroom was far easier to clean than mattress and carpeting. A deadly dose of something might have been easier; but Gratelli didn’t know of too many cop suicides done with pills. That just wasn’t the way. You ate your gun. That was the way.

Stupid. All of it was stupid.

Gratelli tried to figure out what he felt. He was stunned. Perhaps he was in shock. He looked around the room. Pretty anonymous. ‘End of the line,’ McClellan had said. If Gratelli had been a bit sharper, he would have seen this coming. His visit, the friendly, not-too-personal chatter fell way short. McClellan had needed professional help.

Gratelli would have to tell Beth. He didn’t know her that well. McClellan had been right. They didn’t have dinner together. They didn’t visit each other. They weren’t close. Only accidental glimpses into each other’s lives.

Still, it was up to him to break the news. No one else was any closer. McClellan had alienated most of his peers and virtually all of those in charge. If he hadn’t made Homicide before making so many enemies, somebody would have found a way to get him off the force. Nobody knew McClellan very well, Gratelli thought. Including McClellan.

Gratelli went outside to wait for the cops to arrive, noticed one of the figures from before crossing the grassy divide back the other way. Whatever was going down had gone down, Gratelli thought.

Two cop cars pulled up. Lights flashed, but there were no sirens. In the back of one was the lieutenant.

‘Who’d a guessed? Jesus!’ he said, covering up his neck with the collar of his long coat. ‘You OK, Vince?’

Earl knew something had changed while he was in jail. No question. He couldn’t have explained it even if he’d had someone to explain it to. Maybe he grew up.

Lying in bed, he had no urge to light the candles, to feel his own body, to listen to music. There was a dullness in his mind, but he wasn’t confused anymore. The baby monster grew up to be a real one. Eat or get eaten. At first he never figured Cobra to be that smart, but Cobra had it right. Cobra hadn’t tried to help him. He just took what he wanted. But Earl learned something. There was nobody to help. Just get tough. Don’t take any shit. Get what you need. Take what you want if you figure you can get by with it. Be a little smarter than Cobra. Don’t get caught.

What happened in that back stairway was done by someone he was becoming. Someone who wasn’t lonely anymore, wasn’t sad anymore, who wouldn’t worry about the rightness or wrongness of what he had done. He still couldn’t sleep. He didn’t care. Earl Falwell had found a new power, not over unsuspecting women; but over whoever he wanted to have power over. Earl Falwell wasn’t frightened anymore. He was in charge. Like Cobra. Like his father and stepfather. Prison, however brief it was, was a turning point. Things would be different from now on.

H elluva time for Bradley to call, Paul Chang thought. He had thirty-five minutes to get to the airport to pick up Julia, and Bradley, very unlike him, wanted to talk. And Bradley, also very unlike him, didn’t come to the point.

Something about opportunity. Change.

‘What! Bradley tell me what. Or wait until you get back and we’ll have dinner and drinks and we’ll talk until dawn.’

‘I’m not coming back,’ he said. ‘I’m staying here. In Florida. I’ve got an invitation to spend some time in New York.’