Lawrence Block - When the Sacred Ginmill Closes

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These were the dark days for Matthew Scudder. An ex- New York cop, he had drowned his career in booze. Now he was drinking away his life in a succession of seedy establishments that opened early and closed late, reduced to doing paid "favors" for the cronies who gathered with him to worship the bottle.
Now, in a sad and lonely place like so many before it, opportunity comes knocking – a chance to help the ginmil's owner recover his stolen doctored financial records; a chance to help out a drinking buddy accused of murdering his wife. But when cases flow together in dangerous and disturbing ways – like the nightmare images in a drunkard's delirium – it's time for Scudder to change his priorities: to staying sober…and staying alive.

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"Jesus, I don't know. That strongbox could have been full of insurance policies and pictures of their saintedmither, but that would be a surprise all around, wouldn't it? I bet they walked with enough to send a lot of guns to the bold lads in Derry andBelfast."

"You think the robbers were IRA?"

"The hell," he said. He threw his cigarette into the gutter. "I think theMorrisseys are. I think that's where their money goes. I figure-"

"Hey, guys! Wait up, huh?"

We turned. A man named TommyTillary was hailing us from the stoop of theMorrisseys ' house. He was a heavyset fellow, full in the cheeks and jowls, big in the chest, big in the belly, too. He was wearing a summer-weight burgundy blazer and a pair of white pants. He was wearing a tie, too. He almost always wore a tie.

The woman with him was short and slender, with light brown hair that showed red highlights. She was wearing tight faded jeans and a pink button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She looked very tired, and a little drunk.

He said, "You guys know Carolyn? Course you do." We all said hello to her. He said, "I got a car parked around the corner, plenty of room for everybody. Drop you guys off."

"It's a nice morning," Billie said. "I think I'd as soon walk, Tommy."

"Oh, yeah?"

Skip and I said the same. "Walk off some of the booze," Skip said. "Wind down, get ready for bed."

"You sure?No trouble to run you home." We were sure. "Well, you mind walking as far as the car with us? That little demonstration backthere, makes a person nervous."

"Sure thing, Tom."

"Nice morning, huh?Be a hot one today but it's beautiful right now. I swear I thought he wasgonna shootwhatsisname, Tim Pat. You see the look on his face at the end there?"

"There was a moment," Billie said, "it could have gone either way."

"I was thinking, there'sgonna be shooting, back and forth, I'm looking to see which table to dive under. Fucking little tables, there's not a lot of cover, you know?"

"Not too much."

"And I'm a big target, right? What are you smoking, Skip, Camels? Lemme try one of those if you don't mind. I smoke these filters and this time of night they got no taste left to them. Thanks. Was I imagining things orwas there a couple of cops in the room?"

"There were a few, anyway."

"They got to carry their guns on or off duty, isn't that right?"

He'd asked the question of me, and I agreed that there was a regulation to that effect.

"You'd think one of 'emwould have tried something."

"You mean draw down on the holdup men?"

"Something."

"It's a good way to get people killed," I said. "Throwinglead around a crowded room like that."

"I guess there'd be a danger of ricochets."

"Why'd you say that?"

He looked at me, surprised by the snap in my tone. "Why, the brick walls, I guess," he said. "Even shooting into the tin ceiling the way he did, a bullet could glance off, do some damage. Couldn't it?"

"I guess," I said. A cab cruised by, its off-duty light lit, a passenger sharing the front seat with the driver. I said, "On or off duty, a cop wouldn't start anything in a situation like that unless someone else had already started shooting. There were a couple of bulls in the room tonight who probably had their hands on their guns toward the end there. If thatfellow'd shot Tim Pat, he'd probably have been dodging bullets on the way out the door. If anybody had a clear shot at him."

"And if they were sober enough to see straight," Skip put in.

"Makes sense," Tommy said. "Matt, didn't you break up a bar holdup a couple of years ago? Somebody was saying something about it."

"That was a little different," I said. "They'd already shot the bartender dead before I made a move. And I didn't spray bullets aroundinside, I went out into the street after them." And I thought about that, and missed the next few sentences of the conversation. When I came back into focus Tommy was saying he'd expected to be held up.

"Lotof people in that room tonight," he said. "Night workers, people closed up their places and carrying cash on 'em. You'd think they would have passed the hat, wouldn't you?"

"I guess they were in a hurry."

"I only got a few hundred on me, but I'd rather keep it than give it to a guy with a hanky on his face. You feel relieved not to getrobbed, you're real generous when they pass the jug forwhatchacallit,Norad? I gave twenty bucks to the widows andorphans, didn't think twice."

"It's all staged," Billie Keegan suggested. "The guys with the handkerchiefs are friends of thefamily, they put on this little act every couple of weeks to boost theNorad take."

"Jesus," Tommy said, laughing at the idea. "Be something, wouldn't it? There's my car, theRiv. Bigboat'll carry everybody easy, you want to change your mind and let me run you on home."

We all stayed with our decision to walk. His car was a maroon BuickRiviera with a white leather interior. He let Carolyn in, then walked around the car and unlocked his door, making a face at her failure to lean across the seat and unlock the door for him.

After they drove off, Billie said, "They were at Armstrong's until one, one-thirty. I didn't expect to see 'emagain tonight. I hope he's not driving back toBrooklyn tonight."

"Is that where they live?"

"Where he lives," he told Skip. "She's here in the neighborhood. He's a married guy. Doesn't he wear a ring?"

"I never noticed."

"Caro-lynfrom theCaro -line," Billie said. "That's how he introduces her. She was sureshitfaced tonight, wasn't she? When he left earlier I thought for sure he wastakin ' her home- and come to think of it I guess he was. She waswearin ' a dress earlier tonight, wasn't she, Matt?"

"I don't remember."

"I could swear she was. Office clothes, anyway, not jeans and aBrooks shirt like she had on now. Took her home, gave her a bounce, then they got thirsty and by that time the stores were closed, so off we go to the neighborhood after-hours, T. P. Morrissey, Prop. What do you think, Matt? Have I got the makings of a detective?"

"You're doing fine."

"He put on the same clothes but she changed. Now the question is will he go home to the wife or sleep over at Carolyn's and show up at the office tomorrow in the same outfit. The only problemis, who gives a shit?"

"I was just going to ask that," Skip said.

"Yeah.One thing he asked, I'll ask it myself. Why didn't they stick up the customers tonight? There must have been a lot of guyscarryin ' a few hundred each and a couple with more than that."

"Not worth it."

"That's a few grand we're talking about."

"I know," Skip said. "It's also another twenty minutes if you'regonna do it right, and that's in a room full of drunks with God knows how many of them carrying guns. I bet there were fifteen guns in that room."

"Are you serious?"

"I'm not onlyserious, I bet I'm guessing low. For openers you got three or four cops. You got EddieGrillo, right at our table."

"Eddie carries a piece?"

"Eddie runs around with some pretty heavy guys, not even talking about whoowns the joint where he works. There was a guy named Chuck, I don't really know him, works at Polly's Cage-"

"I know who you mean. He walks around with a gun on him?"

"Either that or he walks around with a permanenthardon andhe's built funny. Believe me, there's a whole lot of guys walk around packing iron. You tell a whole roomful to reach for theirwallets, some ofthem'll reach for their guns instead. Meanwhile they're in and out in what, five minutes tops? I don't think it was five minutes from the door flying open and the bullets in the ceiling until they're out the door and Tim Pat's standing there with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face."

"That's a point."

"And whatever they'd of got frompeople's wallets, that's small change."

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