Stephen Dixon - Garbage

“Then why’d he put my note from it into his wallet?”

“We don’t know he did yet. But if he did, then maybe as a joke.”

“I don’t get it. To give to someone else?”

“That too. Maybe he wanted to play it on someone else. But what I was suggesting was maybe he kept the note to show someone how much a joke had been played on him in the booth.”

“With my spit all over it he’d put it in his wallet?”

“The spit would’ve been dried by then.”

“But he rubbed it off on the sidewalk.”

“That’s what you claim.”

“Back and forth he rubbed, back and forth.”

“Someone else but you saw? Not those three duds.”

“Then how do you also explain I recognized him as the note-leaving guy at my bar from the fire?”

“Your word against his again.”

“Hell with it. Long as I know he’s involved, that’s enough for me.”

“Good for you,” and he calls in that we’re coming, other man gets out to wipe the snow off the windshield and we drive to the stationhouse.

I’m booked, they ask if I have a lawyer. I say “I never had much use for anyone who takes so much money for what with a little hard brainwork I can do myself, not that I ever even much trusted them either,” and they say they’ll have one appointed to me then as that’s the law.

“The law,” I say, “the law. Well just see if I don’t refuse your appointee,” and ask and they say okay for me to call my bar. I get Hector, one of the two men I asked to stay and say “Anyone there but you?”

“Boo, but you told us not to.”

“I know, but anyone else try and come in or call?”

“No and it’s getting late and we got to be moving. Even for money it’s not worth staying here anymore — my wife will kill me.”

“One last favor. I’m in the police station for something I did and am giving my keys to the police to close my place. Stay there till they come. Don’t let anyone but them in and ask for their badges.”

“I don’t ask cops for badges. Question them and you anger and get trouble from them. They got uniforms on, they’re cops. You, I don’t ask what happened less you tell.”

“Thanks, but listen. Take all the money out of the cash register and from the cigar box below and tip glass next to the juicer and put it all in one of the brown paper bags there by the coffeemaker.”

“Wait a minute. Where’s the coffeemaker?”

“By the juicer. Double the bags, in fact, as the change will weigh a ton. Leave the nickels if you want and keep the rest on you alone, Hector, not Boo. He’s okay, I’m not saying he’s not and I know he’s your friend. But he’s a little dim, right? and wait till I call you again at home. What’s your number?”

“I don’t even see where’s the juicer and I’m looking.”

“Right by the register. But your phone number.”

He gives it.

“Listen, Hector, I’m putting my faith in you two but you especially. And I’m not saying you’re dishonest by any means, because would I be asking you to do this for me if I was? But I know how much money there is between the register and cigar box. Tip glass probably another few bucks.”

“How much you think altogether?”

“Why you asking? Besides, you’ll have plenty of time to count it at home. But there’s twenty in it for you and Boo, ten apiece and okay, for you another five, just for doing this for me.”

“What’re you afraid of, cops on the take?”

“A little, yes. They’ve done it with other barowners. They slip in the place because of some minor infraction nobody’s followed for fifty years or an anonymous phone complaint maybe made by them in a disguised voice, and while one’s questioning the bartender, boom, half the register money’s suddenly gone. Where’d it go? ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ they say, ‘you accusing us?’ getting tough.’You yelling corrupt?’ Ah. Maybe, probably the ones who come to close will be clean and great but I can’t take chances, though forget the bottles they might cart away before they return my keys, and the steaks.”

“How am I to tell Boo you only want me to hold the money? He’s big and already a bit tanked and mean from all the booze he drank.”

“I told you guys only free beer.”

“Not me, him, but you also told us you’d be right back.”

“Okay, wait, let me think. After the police come take the money straight to Kelly’s Bar instead and give it to Kelly to hold.”

“What’re you now, all of a sudden don’t trust me?”

“I trust you but Kelly’s always been all right with me and he knows where to hide money, you might not.”

“I got a floorboard in my place for stashing away stuff. And now I told you that you know something about me that nobody else does.”

“I’d still rather have Kelly.”

“You know, being so all right with people isn’t what I learned about him. Why I don’t go in there and others is he gives change for five dollars too many times when you give him a ten. And how you know he’ll be there?”

“Call him. If he’s not, call me at the 15th Precinct right back. But just take the money if he is which he will be, he’s like me, he never leaves and he’ll be honest with me or else he knows he won’t get favors back. I’ll try and call you later tonight or the morning and you’ll have put down by then how much you gave Kelly, okay?”

“Okay, but I still don’t like that you don’t trust me or what Boo might do.”

“I do trust you, I do, and when I get back you have a home at the bar for free food and booze for a couple of days, Boo too. Now put him on.”

“Yeh,” Boo says.

“Boo, this is Shaney.”

“Yeh, I know, Hector said, so?”

“So Boo, I don’t care, I’m not normally like this as you know and don’t give me that tough ‘so’ stuff too, but big as you are and sober and mean as you might be that day, if you give Hector any flack about the job I just gave him to do I’ll beat your ass black and blue with my billy, I swear, and much worse than that I’ll ban you forever from my bar, you got?”

“Yeh. I’ll keep myself straight.”

“Good man and thanks.”

I give the police my bar keys and two of them leave to lock up. I ask the sergeant if he could put a guard on the bar tonight for I’m almost sure Stovin’s men will try and firebomb the place or smash in all the plate glass. He says “We’re short-handed as it is. And I can’t see why your bar rates a special guard when you’re the person being held and charged for maybe clobbering to death one of the group you accuse of harassing you.”

“You’ll put that down in writing for my bar’s insurance company?”

“I’ll put your face down in writing if you don’t smarten up.” “And threaten me again and I’ll have whoever it is supposed to know about police threats know about you.”

“Quick, someone — Angelo, get over here,” he yells to a policeman, “and get this asshole out of my sight before I lose my cool altogether and level him and then you guys will lose your protective sergeant for another few weeks.”

Angelo sits me down, gets me coffee and tells me to lay off the sergeant. “He’s been called down before for busting a suspect’s jaw and we can’t afford to have him kicked off the force.” Later he checks with the sergeant and tells me that the court which will talk about bail and my appointed lawyer for my assault and possible manslaughter case doesn’t open till tomorrow at ten and I’ll have to spend the night in a detaining cell upstairs.

I’m given a blanket, towel and toothbrush and taken to the cell. Three other men share it. I want to call Hector but the guard tells me “As a first-nighter you already made your limitation of one call.” I eat and while the guards and other prisoners watch TV in the common room shared by an entire floor of cells, I lie on my upper-bunk cot and think and think about my situation and end up thinking there’s nothing to think about how to end the situation and there’s no way I can stop and my only hope’s that Stovin’s will think or say they’ve had enough of me and our situation and let it drop.