Dave Zeltserman - Small crimes

I could see Manny was on oxygen and there were intravenous tubes stuck in his arms. One of the tubes was connected to a morphine drip. As I was studying it, I heard Manny stir.

'Who's there?' he asked.

I pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. 'How you doing, Manny, it's been a long time.'

He stared at me and blinked several times before he recognized me. "They let you out already? Too bad,' he noted without much enthusiasm.

'A damn shame,' I said, agreeing with him. 'You're looking better these days. You finally find a diet that works? Good for you.'

'What you talking about? I got cancer. I'm dying. They give me a month, two months tops.'

'I heard about your condition, Manny. I'm sorry.' I moved closer to him and lowered my voice. 'And I was sorry to hear that you reneged on our agreement and took every dime Elaine had.'

He flashed me a nasty smile and it was the first time I recognized him as the Manny of old. I had seen that smile dozens of times before after he had screwed someone. The smile all but said what are you going to do about it, cocksucker?

'Joe,' he said, still showing that smile, 'you were on the books for over a hundred large. I took less than twenty out of her. You're lucky I didn't make her work her ass off for the rest of your balance. Besides, you made me make that deal under duress.'

He turned from me, his smile fading. 'What do you want?' he asked.

'I just wanted to see an old friend.'

'You're full of crap.'

'Okay, I want to know why you're lying here every goddam day listening to Phil Coakley read you the Bible.’

'How's that your business?'

'It's my business when Phil's bragging to me that he's going to convert you to Christ and have you confess all so he can put me away.'

That comment should have enraged Manny, at least it would've enraged the old Manny. This one just stared at me blankly, his shriveled face sagging into his pillow.

'Well, Manny, you see why it's my business?'

His eyes wavered and he looked away from me. 'He gives me comfort,' he said at last.

I just gawked at him, incredulous. 'What the hell are you saying? That you've found religion? That you're going to confess all your sins so you can go to heaven? You realize how ridiculous that sounds? Damn it; Manny, is that what you're saying?'

'I'm not saying nothing. I'm not going to rat anyone. But even if I did, what difference would it make? It can't be used in court. It's hearsay.'

'You're a lawyer now? I got news for you, Manny, a deathbed confession is an exception to the hearsay rule. Any confession you make can be used in court regardless of how dead and buried you are. I don't know what crap Phil is filling you up with, but he's bullshitting you.'

'I'm not going to rat,' he said, but he couldn't look me in the eye. I knew he was lying. His mouth screwed up as if he were about to start bawling. 'I'm a dying man, Joe. What do you want from me?'

'I want you to keep your mouth shut. If you talk, it's not just me. You'll end up putting a lot of people away, including your own son. I guarantee you Junior would go away for a long time.'

He gave me a look right then that told me he'd already made a deal. The look only flashed on his face for a second, but it told me everything. If he talks Junior gets protected.

1 don't feel good, Joe. Why don't you get out of here.'

I leaned very close to him. 'Look, Manny,' I whispered into his ear, 'I kept my mouth shut for the last seven years while I sat in jail. I could've talked and put you away with me. Right now you'd be rotting in a prison hospital if I hadn't kept quiet.'

'Yeah, so?'

'So? Goddam it, Manny, confessing your sins to Phil won't change anything. You're still going to end up burning in hell.’

‘No I won't,' he argued stubbornly.

From behind me I heard a loud voice booming, 'Hey, Pop, who's that with you?' I turned and saw Manny Jr. with what must have been two of his sons. Junior had grown to look a lot like his dad used to; a heavy, thick man with a complexion like chipped glass and a hardness about him. His two boys were probably under seven but both looked like miniature versions of him. Junior stood staring at me for a long moment before he recognized me. Then a vicious smile crept onto his face.

'Hey, look what the cat dragged in here. Joe Denton, what the hell are you doing here?'

'Old business with your dad.'

'Yeah, well, I think your business is over. Don't let the door hit you too hard on the way out.'

He started towards me, his smile stretching until his lips nearly disappeared. I got up and walked close to him. 'You and me have business,' I said. 'Star Diner out in Chesterville. Meet me there at seven.'

'Nah,' he said. 'Why don't you meet me at the house. I got a new game room in the basement. We can have some fun.'

'I don't think so. Star Diner at seven. You better be there, Junior.'

I turned back and told Manny I'd be seeing him, and then I walked out of there.

It was twenty past seven and I was halfway through my turkey hotplate special before Junior showed up. He had a couple of thugs with him; hard humorless types who used to work for his dad. Junior spotted me at my booth, leered in my direction, and came over and sat down. The diner was mostly empty and his two thugs sat at an empty booth nearby.

'Hey, what's going on, Joe?' he said. 'You invite me to dinner and you start without me? Don't you got no etiquette?'

He signaled the waitress over. 'Sweetheart,' he said, 'bring me a steak, well done, and a glass of wine, something red.'

'We offer Chianti, Cabernet and Merlot by the glass, sir. Which would you prefer?' she asked.

'Whichever's better, your choice, sweetheart. Just make sure it's your best.'

He waited until she left and then turned to me. 'I try to drink more red wine these days.' Then lower and more surly, 'I don't appreciate you trying to order me around, Joe, but it's been a while and I figure I give you a break for old time's sake. What business you and me got?'

I took my time chewing and swallowing my food before telling him that I needed to talk to him about Manny.

'Yeah, what about Pop?'

'Why are you letting Phil Coakley work on him?’

‘I don't know what you're talking about.’

‘You don't know Phil is visiting your dad every day?’

‘Yeah, so?'

'So? Phil was bragging to me that he's going to put the fear of God in your dad and squeeze a confession out of him.'

Junior gave me a slight smile. 'Let him try. Pop's no rat. He's not going to talk.'

'I think you're wrong there.'

'I think you better shut up.'

His leer had shifted into something more violent. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 'Look, Junior,' I said, 'I think we've got a real problem here.'

'I don't think we got any problem. Pop's not going to rat anyone. You don't need to worry about nothing.' He leaned forward, a glint in his eyes. 'And I never liked you calling me Junior. Got it?'

I sighed. 'Sure. Manny. All you have to do is send your dad to a hospital out of state, maybe to Boston or New York. Your dad will get better care and we won't have to worry about Phil trying to trick him into a confession.'

Junior was shaking his head. I can't do that,' he said. 'Pop wants to stay put. He don't want to go nowhere.' He rubbed a thick hand over his jaw and showed me an embarrassed smile. 'Besides,' he said, 'I like having him close by.'

'You could send him back to the Bronx. He must have old friends and family there.'

'Nah, I told you, he don't want to go nowhere.'

"Then keep Phil out of your dad's room. Don't let him visit.'

'Yeah, well, I can't do that either. Those visits are helping my pop's spirit. It makes him feel good. Besides, it don't matter. Pop's not going say a word to him.'