Dave Zeltserman - Small crimes

His son, Manny Jr., was a different story. Junior was a sadistic psychopath. Manny had sent me on a collection job once with Junior. At the time Junior was seventeen and I think what Manny wanted was to give his kid some experience and to have me there in case there were problems. The guy we were collecting from was just some poor sap, and he was crapping in his pants when we cornered him one night in a parking lot. He would have paid up right away, but before I realized what was happening, Junior had taken a lead pipe to the guy's knees. He got several whacks in before I was able to pull him off. I could tell that crazy bastard enjoyed every second of it. That was the one and only time I was willing to go out on a job with him. Over the years I'd heard other stories regarding Junior – pretty bizarre stuff, and I wouldn't bet against any of them being true.

When I got to the cafeteria, I bought a cup of coffee and sat down. I now knew there was a good chance Manny would confess all to Phil and I would end up going away for a long time, maybe even life if Manny could sell that I had killed Ferguson. And as Dan had pointed out, I wouldn't be spending my days in a county jail in Bradley, but some hardcore maximum-security prison God knows where. Panic started to overtake me. I felt a tightening in my chest and could barely breathe. I knew I couldn't spend any more time locked away. It was tough enough sitting out the last seven years in county jail and spending my days realizing how badly I had wasted my life.

Crazy thoughts flooded my head, thoughts of running and suicide and other things I wouldn't want to mention. If Elaine knew me as well as she thought she did I would've driven to some quiet spot, put a gun in my mouth, and ended it right then and there. Because that would've been the easy way out. But I wasn't going to take the easy way out. I didn't know what I was going to do but it wasn't going to be that.

Running wouldn't do any good either. Even with the sixty-five hundred dollars that Dan gave me I wouldn't be able to run far enough. Eventually they'd catch up with me. And even if I could, what would I be running to? A drifting, meaningless existence? Going back on the promise I'd just made my girls? No, running wasn't an option. Neither was suicide. But I was going to have to do something, because I wasn't going to live out my days in prison.

At one point I could feel that I was being stared at. To my left, a few tables over, a family of four sat. They were all large boned, heavy and unattractive. All of them were glaring in my direction. The father was a few years older than me, and along with the mother there was a teenage son and a pre-teen daughter. From the physical resemblance, I knew they were the family of the boy whose arm I shattered. I stared back at them until they left their table. Then I went back to my brooding.

I was deep in some dark thoughts when I realized someone was standing near me. I looked up and saw it was the nurse from before. She was a small, mousy woman in her mid-thirties, with thinning brown hair and large nervous eyes. She was trying to clear her throat to get my attention.

I looked up at her and forced a smile.

'Mr. Vassey's company has left,' she told me.

"Thank you. I appreciate your helping me like this.'

'I… I should be getting back to work.' She stood awkwardly for a moment and looked like what she really wanted was for me to invite her to sit down. I wasn't feeling up to visiting Manny yet so I asked if I could buy her a cup of coffee.

'I really should be getting back.' She could barely meet my eyes, but she didn't seem overly anxious to walk away.

I stood up and pulled a chair out for her. 'Come on,' I said, forcing a bigger smile. 'Why don't you take a five-minute break and join me?'

She hesitated for a moment but she sat down. I guess I can take a short break,' she admitted, showing a tiny smile.

I asked her how she took her coffee and whether she wanted anything else, maybe a Danish or doughnut, but all she wanted was the coffee. I got up and bought her a cup and also ended up buying her a piece of chocolate cake that looked edible.

I brought the coffee and cake back to the table and sat across from her. She murmured out a 'thank you', and glanced up at me while she sipped her drink. I noticed she was looking uneasily at my scratches.

'I walked into a tree branch last night and got a little scratched up,' I said.

I could tell from the change in her expression that she believed me. The scratches obviously weren't made by a tree branch, but if you want to believe something, you'll believe it. She mentioned how I needed to be more careful and I agreed with her.

'By the way,' I said as I held out my hand, 'my name's Joe Denton. I'm happy to meet you.'

She hesitated before taking my hand. Her own hand was small and disappeared in mine. Even though she looked a bit mousy and her hair was too thin, she had some nice features. Especially her eyes when they weren't nervous. They were a soft hazel color and were nice to look at.

'I'm Charlotte Boyd,' she said in a muted voice.

We had shaken hands longer than we should have. I made the first move to let go.

'I've lived in Bradley my whole life and never knew any Boyds,' I said, still forcing my smile. 'Are you from around here?'

'I moved here from Montreal three years ago,' she said. She no longer had any problem meeting my eyes.

'I've never been to Montreal. I'll have to go someday. Let me guess, you're French?'

'No,' she said, 'and it's not very nice up there if you're not. I moved to Montreal after college. I grew up in Toronto.'

'Toronto and Montreal, huh? And now you're in the middle of nowhere. Well, anyway, how do you like Bradley?'

'I like it.' She looked away from me, her tiny smile gone. 'It's fine.'

She had no engagement or wedding ring on. My guess was she was unattached and probably as lonely as I was. I know, Bradley's a small town. It probably takes getting used to after cities like Montreal and Toronto,' I said. 'So you're Manny's nurse?'

She nodded. 'He's one of my patients.' She lowered her voice. 'Mr. Vassey is not doing well. His cancer is at an advanced stage.'

'I know. Oh well, what can you do?' I shook my head sadly and then hesitated for a moment. 'Was that Phil Coakley I saw in there with Manny?'

'I believe so, yes. Mr. Coakley visits every day. He seems like a nice man. It's a shame what happened to his face.'

I could tell from her expression that she didn't mean anything by her comment. She had no idea that I was the cause of that shame. I guess she hadn't read the papers the other day.

I muttered something under my breath about agreeing with her how much of a shame it was. I glanced at my watch and saw it was almost four.

'I better get up there and see Manny while I got the chance,' I said.

She lowered her glance from me. 'It was nice meeting you, Joe.' She spoke so quietly I could barely hear her.

'Same here, Charlotte. I hope it didn't sound like I was giving you the third degree before with all my questions. I used to be a police officer and some habits die hard. But it was nice meeting you. Maybe we'll bump into each other again.'

'I didn't mind your questions at all.'

'Well, that's good. I'll see you around.'

I started towards the elevator and stopped to give her a friendly wave. She seemed somewhat startled by it, but gave me a wave back and her soft hazel eyes held steady as they met mine.

I found Manny alone when I got to his room. His eyes were partially open but he seemed to be sleeping. It would've been so easy to grab a pillow and end it right there. I wondered briefly whether at this stage they'd bother with an autopsy. But I knew they would. Phil would hear that I was in the hospital asking about Manny and he would demand one. And even if nobody mentioned anything about me being there, Phil would still suspect that I was involved and demand the autopsy anyway.