Ken Bruen - Merrick

“A jar?’

“Yeah, oh sorry, it means a brew.’

He reached for a bottle on the shelf, Wild Turkey, poured a shot with a practiced ease,

said

“I’m not taking advantage, I’ll charge you the price of a bud.”

I said

“I got paid yesterday so never no mind.”

He clinked my glass to his shot one, said

“L’chaim.”

What can you say, I said it

“Back at you.”

He let the turkey wield it’s magic, said

“Way better than the goddamn cortisone and a damn sight faster.”

I sunk my Jay, let it warm my gut

It did

Why I drink it

Without asking he grabbed the Jameson bottle, poured me a lethal dollop, and then

looked at me, asked

“You ever in law enforcement?”

He was sharp

I’m Irish, we answer a question with another, keeps them off balance

“Why do you ask that?’

He used the cloth to wipe up the spillage from my very full glass, said

“You’ve got cop eyes.”

Then added

“Reason I know is, every morning I shave, I see the same eyes.”

My shot at a question

“Why’d you quit?’

He let out a long sigh, a sadness flitting across his face and then it was gone, he said

“My partner got shot, he’s in a wheelchair, I lost my taste for the job after that.”

The bar got real busy after and I had a few more brews, a nice buzz building..

Thin Lizzy came on the juke box, followed by

Rory Gallagher

U2

De Danann

I looked over at Merrick and he gave me the thumbs up

I was warming to the guy

I don’t do friends

Not easily or often but this guy, he had some moves

End of the evening, he was stacking chairs and a heavy guy who’d been acting the bollix

all night swayed over towards Merrick, I could see the bottle held down by his side.

I moved quickly, took his knees out from behind and for the hell of it, gave him a wallop

on the upside of his dumb arse head

Merrick whirled around, looked at the heap at his feet, saw the bottle and went

“Phew, the fuck would have cracked my skull.”

He gave me an appraising grin, said

“Guess I owe you one buddy.’

I went American, badly I’ll admit, said

“No biggie.”

He laughed, asked

“You wanna go see The Jets choke yet again tomorrow evening, I have some tickets, the

way they been playing, you couldn’t give the damn things away.”

I knew the Yankee’s, and that was about it, said

“Sure.”

That’s how we became friends

He lived on Long Island with his wife, two great kids

The Jets finally won a game and he bought a bottle of Jameson, said

“You and me bro, we’re going to get shitfaced.”

No argument there

Went to my hole in the wall in Brooklyn

He stared at the 1916 Proclamation on the wall, intoned the lines aloud, he had the perfect

voice for it, I put The Pogues on my cheap music set and we got stuck into the Jay

He looked round the sparse room, said

“Pretty basic buddy.”

Got that right

He was considering something, had been all evening, call it cop instinct and finally he got

to it, said

“Time was, I used to work as a P.I…….Me and a buddy named Moe Prager, then I

bought the bar and sort of drifted out of the business

He sipped the Jay then

“Moe got hurt a while back and asked me to follow up on a case he was on, a vile nasty

piece of work……….

He took a deep breath then produced a sheet of paper, handed it over, said

“This is a page from a……………….well, you’ll see”

The very first line chilled me

                           I kill children

“Fook”

I said

Handed it back to him, my stomach in turmoil, Merrick said

“I’m gonna go after this sick bastard and thing is, I wonder if you’d be willing to tag

along?’

Looking back, how easy it would have been to say no, and Jesus, all the carnage that

might have been averted

I said

“Count me in

Merrick and I were chewing down on some Hot Dogs, washed down with Bud, after The

Jets had yet again been handed their ass.

That expression made me smile and Merrick, snapped

‘Us losing, that amuses you?’

Phew, he had an edge. You never knew when it might show. I said

‘Jesus, take a fooking breath, I’m not your enemy, I was tickled by the expression.’

He reined it in, then let out a tight breath, said

‘Sorry buddy, I’m wound tight as a freaking Sunday Rabbi.’

Like I was supposed to know what fook that meant?

Went with

‘Anything I can help with?’

He took a sharp bite out of the dog, looked at it, said

‘Jesus, the fuck I’m eating.’

Slung it in a perfect arc into a litter bin. He washed it down with the Bud, reached in the

cooler, pulled out two, twisted the caps, handed one over, said

‘Slainte.’

We’d been hanging out for almost two months now, cementing a solid friendship with

sports, music, the brews. We shared a bond in that neither of us were, exactly team

players, we didn’t need a chorus of disapproval to know who we were. An unlikely

friendship in just about every way but it seemed to be cooking. The case, the one he’d

originally mentioned had never been mooted since.

Being Irish, one thing you know, bad shite isn’t going away, you just have to wait and

sure as Mass, it will come slithering down the path.

It was about to.

He drained the brew, the guy could drink for Ireland and he asked

‘Remember the case I mentioned, the child stuff?’

Like you could forget such a blasphemy, I said

‘Yes.’

He took another kid.’

Jesus wept.

He reached in his cargo pants, took out a sheet of paper, handed it over, didn’t look at me.

I read

…………………….Yo, Jewish

…………………Taking over your deadbeat partner’s case?

…………………..Felications.

………………….Here is a head start for you.

And chuckle, the kid gave me some serious head, I digress, on West 59 th, Corner of 7 th

and 8 th, an old brownstone, second floor, kiddies delight.

Isn’t this fun kike?

One more sweet fang to savor then I’ll have me one of yours, the boy, twelve? little out

of my age group so I’ll do him quick.

Here’s a clue yah dumb Shamus……..clowns to the right……………..

Xxxxxxxxxx

…………………………Two much.

My stomach lurched. I asked

‘You call the cops?’

‘They blew me off.’

I asked

‘What’s with the two?’

Merrick rubbed his neck, trying to work out the ache there, said

‘Just him fucking with us, let us think he has an ally, maybe.’

I was spooked, Jesus, big time. But I reined it in, asked

‘So, we going to take a look?’

He was twisting the empty Bud like he could tear it’s head off, said

‘This is heavy shit now Tommy, won’t reflect on you or our friendship if you buck.’

I stood up, said

‘Let’s roll.’

Merrick had a beautiful 59 Camaro. Restored it lovingly his own self and added a supped

motor to the horsepower already under the hood.

We took off from the stadium like some meth bats outa meatloaf’s hell. Going over the

Jersey Turnpike, Merrick asked