chain fiction

chapter fifty four

2008-02-01T11:04:00.001-08:00

Chapter 54

word count 475

Uncle Frank pulled his fedora down over his face and got out of the car, peering up and down the street. All looked quiet. Yellow tape draped around a nearby house, indicating the place was a crime scene. Regardless, he rushed up the sidewalk and tried the front door. Locked. Pulling a tool from his pocket, he jimmied it and popped the door to Bud Kramer's house wide open, then slipped in. Not a sound. With short, hurried steps he pushed his huge frame around the room to search the premises, gun cupped in his hands, ready for action. He was a big man, and the activity instigated deep wheezes in his chest. Apparently his people did a good job on that bastard, Ren. Now he just needed to get rid of Kramer, and he could move on and look for that jail guard and the whore.

The bathroom was a disaster of blood smears, like a whacked-out Rorschach Test on the walls. Whacked--ha--no pun intended...he smiled at his own brilliant humor. The body had been removed, of course. Frank nodded in satisfaction. Now where was that son of a bitch Kramer? Perhaps a clue lay around the place somewhere. The sooner he took him out the better.

Bud Kramer stepped into the hallway clutching a police revolver in his hands. His eyes were black marble, glinting with their own light. Without hesitation he lifted the gun and pulled the trigger. Uncle Frank never knew what hit him.

A new morning's sun peeked through the café window as Vic and Jessa drank their morning coffee. They didn't talk. He held the newspaper up in front of his face reading. She, wearing her usual dower expression, stared into space. Now and then she took a compact out to study her face. Pushing brown shell glasses up with one finger, she struck a pose and pursed her lips, now colored in simple pale pink rather than blazing red.

"Oh my Gawd!" Vic flipped the paper down and stared her way.

"What is it?" She asked wearily, studying her plain nails with disdain. This incognito thing of theirs was making her crazy. She felt ugly.

"Uncle Frank is dead!"

"WHAT?" Her mind churned like a clunky machine. "Does this mean we can go home?"

"I dunno. Wait a minute." He read further, his eyes darting down the page. "Holy Hell! They found him murdered at Bud Kramer's house. And Kramer has dropped out of sight." He sat back, stunned. "This is incredible...they're all gone. Maybe we can go back."

Jessa leaned forward, grabbing Vic's hand. "Yeah. I want to go back. I want to go back and break Jason out of jail. You were a guard; you know how. We can do it. We can break him out. It's about time we did something I want."

chapter fifty three

2008-01-24T07:40:00.000-08:00

word count: 591

"this whole thing has become a god damn cluster fuck..." uncle frank said out loud,, to no one... he had sequestered himself in his office... decisions had to be made..

"how in the fucking hell had this become so complicated?" it wasn't even his war... he had been drawn into it,, lured as it were, with the ever so long in coming death of that no account, crotch dropping, ruben,, the bane of his and his sainted brothers existence... may he rest in peace...

the body count was on the rise,, so far in franks favor, as just the pawns were going down.. ren, worthless piece of two faced shit that he was, check... bud kramers wife,, now that was out of his hands,, how the hell was he supposed to know the invalid woman was gonna croak on him??? and that fucking crooked doc guard,, what was his name?? white? black? gray? understandable,,, the world is a better place for his leaving....

it was time... frank concluded.. time to get the job done,, and he knew that if he wanted the job done,, and done right,, it was time to strap one on and hit the street..

frank hit the intercom to the boys that stood watch over his door... " tell manny to come in here." he barked into his speaker phone...

as if by magic,, there was an instantaneous knock at the door. "come on." frank called out,, and manny his driver, his body guard, his second,, whatever you wanted to call him, thundered into the room... he took a silent stance on the opposing side of franks desk. locked his arms behind his thickly muscled back and waited...

"i am going to tell you something. something that you will never repeat. i trust you. you know that. but i want to make it clear to you, the importance of the situation. do you understand?"

"yes." simple. silent. deadly. manny was a man among men.

"i am not a violent man. i never have been. i am however a man of action. i have been backed into a corner in this present situation... in this corner,, violence has become unavoidable.. the time has come for me to take action. i have decided that if this whole fucking mess is ever going to be put to bed, i will have to tuck it in personally. do you understand, then, why i have called you in here today?"

manny looked intently at uncle frank. he did not speak.

"it has become necessary for me to take a certain matter into my own hands.. that part i am sure you understand. in doing so,, i accept the distinct possibility that i will have to,, shall i say,, disappear.. for a lengthy amount of time.. very possibly forever.. no one, and i repeat, no one will know my status or my whereabouts... no one but you.. i am in essence entrusting my life to you, manny.. my fucking life... you understand now the importance of the agreement you and i are about to enter into?"

"i do." sticcado. emotionless.

frank pulled a ring of keys from his pocket.. he pulled off a rather non-descript looking key, and tossed it to manny.. "hold onto this. protect it with your life.. it opens the file cabinet you see by the window, should anything unmentionable go down,, use it. everything you need to know is in there."

he stared into mannys emotionless eyes. the sound of his own heart beating loudly in his ears over taking the dead silence in the room.

"get the car."

chapter fifty-two

2008-01-20T13:03:00.001-08:00

Chapter 52
word count: 552

Two divers detached the cement bricks, then tied the bundle with strong ropes. More rugged men on the bridge waited, then tugging, hoisted up the package, their burly arms glistening with sweat even in the early morning sun. It was going to be a hot day. Bud wiped his brow while he rushed closer

"Well, let's see what we got" he yelled. "I'm curious to see who got on Frank's shit list this time. Poor schmuck!"

"It's not all that heavy," one of the strong men said. "Must be a skinny guy."

"Who ever heard of a skinny gangster?" Bud joked as his eyes watched the bundle being lifted over the railing and lowered to the deck. A strange pang shot through him, painful and sad. He shook it off. His line of work demanded objectivity...no room for emotional outbursts. Funny this one should bother him. He inspected gory crime scenes all the time. His cell rang just as he was going to have a look at the victim.

"Hello."

"Bud, you'd better get over here to your place. Ren's here, he's dead." It was his partner, Red.

"What?"

"Yeah, your cleaning lady found him. In the shower. Bullet through his heart."

"What the fuck? We were together. When I left him, he was sleeping on the couch. I gave him something to help him sleep."

"Well, he's sleeping permanently now. We're checking for prints."

"I'll be right there." Bud closed his eyes in disbelief.

"Mr. Kramer, we're ready." One of the strong men stood next to him.

"Okay," Bud replied, pulling gloves from his pocket. He bent over the bundle, pealing back folds of black plastic until a hand was revealed. Waterlogged and wrinkled, it wasn't pretty. A red polyester sleeve covered a delicate wrist.

"Good God! It's a woman," he muttered, gingerly pulling back more shards of plastic. A petite female form began to emerge. Small, but familiar, all too familiar. Bud's heart knew before his eyes confirmed it. Jane. It was his beloved Janie. As he pulled away the last of the black material, tears rolled down his cheeks. Could this be happening?

Jane's eyes were still wide open, frozen in time with fear. Choking, he pulled the lids down to put her at peace. Who had done this? He searched her body in a frantic rush, looking for bullet wounds or knife stabs, some indication of what and who had killed her. But her body was in perfect form, no violations, no bullets, no stab wounds.Then the magnitude of it hit him!

"It's my wife! It's my wife! Whoever did this is going to pay!" He cried. He jumped up and paced, waving his arms in the air. The others led him to his car, sat him in the front seat, hung around to make sure he was okay, waiting for the sobs to stop. Finally, rational thought returned. Whoever did this probably killed Ren, too, and others. And they probably intended to kill him, too. So what? He had nothing to live for.

Later, when he viewed Ren's body in his shower, blasted away with blood splattered everywhere, he was numb. He didn't care about Ren. He cared only about Janie. He'd find her murderers. He'd find them before they had a chance to locate him first.

chapter fifty one

2008-01-18T07:08:00.000-08:00

word count: 621

ren rolled over and stuck his hand down the front of his pants... comforted,, he attempted to snuggle deeper into the thick warm mattress,, he reached for the soft down comforter,, but it was no where to be found.. in fact,, he was beginning to doubt he was in his bed at all,, as he seemed to be unable to roll over.. puzzled he opened his eyes and peered out at a totally unfamiliar surrounding...

"what the fuck?" was going thru his brain as he tried like hell to sit up,, only to me held by a set of inviable hands in the wide soft recliner he didn't even remember sitting down in... what the hell was going on,, where was he???

he scanned the room only to realize that he was at the kramers.. thats right,, bud had stopped in to clean up.. he must have fallen asleep here in front of the tv waiting for him... he glanced at his watch... holy shit!!! four hours had passed,, he struggled to find and then grabbed hard on the lever he finally located on the side of the chair and threw it into the upright position...

something was wrong... something was definitely wrong... the thought that he might have been duped,, more than likely drugged somehow too, crossed his mind. knowing full well the consequences if uncle frank found out about it,, he pushed it to the back of his mind and made his way,, staggering through the house room to room,, looking for bud,, but knowing all the while he was not going to be there...

he stopped off in the kitchen and noticed the coffee pot the warmer light was still on.. that was it. that had to be it. he had accepted a cup of coffee from bud,, somehow some way,, that sneaky son of a bitch, bud had succeeded in spiking the coffee... this was bad,, this was really bad....

he was beginning to come around and realize that he had to do something... but what?? he had no idea where to look for bud,, and he sure as hell didn't want to run into any of uncle frankies guys out there on the street,, with no bud kramer in tow... fuck... he couldn't think.. his head was so clouded.. a shower,, a nice hot shower,, that would wake him up and maybe then he could decide in what direction he should take this thing...

ren stripped down and hopped under the pulsating stream of hot water and steam.. he let the water pour over him,, he massaged the top of his head as the invigorating hot water and steam enveloped him,, struggling all the while to get a handle on his situation.. he grabbed the bar soap and lathered his short cropped hair,, he rubbed the soap gruffly over his face and throat... , and then leaned his thick arms against the wall surrounding the shower head for support as he stuck his head under the hot spray..

as he leaned there trying to decide between the better of the few evils that awaited him,, he felt the hint of cold air on his back,, it rose to his neck,, causing the hairs to stand on end.. he peeked out under his arm,, looking in back of him for the source of the brisk air,, and was surprised to see the slider door behind him ajar a few inches... ..

if he noticed the muzzle of the 38 as it let off a single silenced shot that connected almost immediately with his heart... no one will ever know....

"stupid fat fuck." tony grumbled as he exited the bathroom,, hot steam from the shower still rising....

chapter fifty

2007-12-27T17:44:00.000-08:00

Chapter 50
word count: 610

Frank took the last bite of fritatta and laid down his fork and knife with care. He snapped the clean linen napkin out of his collar and waved his hand for Luigi. The harried chef rushed in from the kitchen.

“Get me Tony.”

“Yes, Uncle Frank.”

Luigi rushed to a phone on the kitchen wall. It didn't take long for Tony to arrive. Frank's “staff” were generally on the premises, cocooned in its terse corridors and closet-like enclosures.

“Uncle Frank?” The grim fellow stood, waiting for a nod of Frank's head to indicate he should sit. The nod didn't come.

“Tony. I want you to take them out—Bud Kramer and that imbecile, Ren. And find DiMarco and that whore—get rid of them, too. Take as many men as you need.”

“Yes, sir, Uncle Frank.”

“Now get outta here!”

As his minion made tracks, Frank leaned back and enjoyed his cup of steaming coffee. Ah, peace at last...

Bud burst through the door of McDonald's with Jorge in tow, his eagle-like eyes scanning the room before he was all the way through. The place was empty except for a couple seated by the window. The man's back was to them, but the hair was DiMarco's coal black. The girl was no prize, but Bud had no idea what the whore was supposed to look like.

He turned and grabbed Jorge by the collar and hissed in his ear. “Is that your buddy?”

“I don't know...could be. I can't see his face.”

“Well, let's find out, shall we?” Bud rushed up and spun the man around, then flinched. The man wasn't Vic.

“What the fuck you doing?” the guy screamed, pulling himself free of the man's grasp.

Bud pulled back in horror. What was he doing? Accosting innocent people, bullying them. What was happening to him? His intensity about Janie was making him a crazy bastard. He had to get a grip.

“Look man, I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Get away from me, you son of a bitch!”

Bud grabbed Jorge and dragged him out of the restaurant. He felt the anger broiling in his chest again. He pulled Jorge close. “Are you bull-shitting me or was he really supposed to be in there?”

“That's what he told me! I wouldn't shit you, man!”

“Yeah, right!” Bud leaned against the building in exhaustion. What next? His eyes rested on the boulevard out front. He bolted up. A black Cadillac was cruising toward the red light. “That's Uncle Frank's thugs! I'd know that car anywhere!”

“So what! I don't want anything to do with them!”

Bud grabbed Jorge and shoved him in his car. “Yes, you do. We're following them. I'm not taking my eyes off you, so you're coming with me.”

The Cadillac wove through city streets with ease. It never missed a green light and flew just above the speed limit getting from point A to point B with style and grace. Bud was hard put to keep up. He was surprised when the car turned onto a desolate bridge on the edge of town and stopped. A fast-moving river flowed beneath it. Bud knew full well what would happen next.

Two men got out of the car and opened the trunk, lifting a large dark bundle out and with a heave-ho hoisted it up and over the railing. The Cadillac sped away before the waters calmed.

“Looked like we're going to have to get a crew down here to fish that up and see who Uncle Frank has bumped off now,” Bud murmured, reaching for his cell. “Poor soul!”

chapter forty nine

2007-12-27T08:39:00.000-08:00

chain fiction chapter 49

word count: 523

frank malleo replaced the receiver.. this was a mess.. a fucking mess.. how the hell did all of this happen as a result of one dead junkie?? sure he was his brother wally's kid,, god rest his soul... but he was a filthy piece of drug addict shit,, and truth be told frank had wanted to kill the little son of a bitch on more than one occasion himself...

"i shoulda' just wacked the little mother fucker years ago... none of this would have happened...." frank allowed himself to dream for just a moment...

something had to be done.. something to put an end to all of this now.. once and for all.. over.. out of sight out of mind... that was it... bud and ren and di marco and that fucking whore,,, gone.. all of them.. the end.. put this whole thing to bed,, "and then," frank thought to himself as he surveyed the deep circles that were forming around his already sunken dark eyes,, "then i can get some rest...."

the call had been placed.. one small matter of business remained unfinished here,, and then he would have a nice breakfast.. food had always made him feel better.. he had his mama to thank for that....

as frank strode thru the kitchen,, he told luigi he was feeling especially down today,, "a nice frittata might be just the thing.. oh and a side of hot cakes,, yeah,, that ought to do it...." said frank with his forever embracing warm smile,, and that spark in his eye,, that let luigi know,, whatever had the don down,, he was no part of it...

with relief and a feeling of reinforced security,, luigi opened the large side by side,, and surveyed the contents.. this would have to be the frittata to beat all frittata's.. luigi would personally see to it that it was...

frank continued on thru the maze of hallways in the back of the building,, hallways that were specifically designed years ago,, to more often than not,, go no where.. hallways that had on more than one occasion meant the difference between freedom and captivity to frank himself,, and life and death for many others..

he finally stopped in front of a pair of metal doors,, no handle,, no push bar,, just doors.. he removed a brick to the right of the doors,, slipped a key off his vast ring in the slot, and watched as the doors disengaged.

he kicked the door noisily out in front of himself,, as if to surprise anyone that might be laying in wait on the other side..

no one was there... no one accept a useless scrap of a man,,there on the floor... still hog tied,, still blindfolded,, laying shivering in a pool of his own piss...

frank slipped the silenced 38 out of the rear waist band of his dark brown silk pants, and fired five shots.. he stepped back,, swung the door closed, replaced his revolver,, and proceeded to the kitchen to see how luigi was progressing on his breakfast...

a nice frittata sounded like just what he needed....

chapter forty eight

2007-12-15T13:37:00.001-08:00

word count: 550

"Look at me! You've got to be kidding!" They stood outside Macy's window, gazing at their reflections. Jessa clenched her fists and stood rigid, glaring, ready to explode. Her hair, flattened and combed down straight went perfectly with the "sunday-go-to-meetin'" pants suit which boasted a silk blouse with a matching scarf tied in the front and, of course, 'practical' shoes. Tiny eyeglasses perched on her nose in a blatant aura of intellectuality.

"You'd better rip that jewelry off your fingers...and those fake nails, too."

"No freakin' way!"

Do you want them to find us and kill us? That get-up is a dead giveaway that something's up." He tilted his Fedora and buttoned his top button, next straightening his plain blue tie.

"We look like Lois Lane and Clark Kent from those old TV shows."

"That's better than looking like who we really are. We'll blend into the office crowd downtown here. Now I just have to figure out what to do next. I want to get the fuck out of town."

Jessa surveyed the secretaries and desk clerks milling all around. They did fit in. "Why don't we catch an Amtrak or a bus?"

"I thought we might, but that's so easy to stop and search. I got another idea." With that remark, he turned on his heel and waved for a taxi. A rattling yellow cab pulled up.

"You on the clock? I need to go about 50 miles. Can you handle it?"

"Sure. Hop in."

As they settled in the back, the driver asked, "Where to?"

"I'm not really sure. Just head north." He leaned forward and handed the guy a wad of bills. "As far as this takes us."

The cabbie grabbed the money with a big smile. "No problem."

Jessa leaned close and whispered in Vic's ear. "What the hell we going north for? Why not south? I mean, who goes north, for Gawd's sake?"

Vic smiled back, a cocky grin. "Exactly, 'who goes north?'--you get it? They'll never think we'd go north either."

He relaxed. It felt good to be off the street where they might be spotted. Ever since he called Jorge from the restaurant, he had an uneasy feeling. Not that he didn't trust Jorge, but hey, these were desperate times. Anything could happen.

The whore leaned closer. He could feel her body heat blending with his, streaming along his thigh. Her hand tickled between his legs. The wench, teasing him. He could feel his body reacting... hardening, aching to be satiated. If he could close off the front of the cab and have the back seat free from view, he'd push her down on him and get relief. Oh fuck...he needed to do that... his breath caught in his throat. The sensations emanating from his groin were beginning to overpower...there's be no denying "little Vic" soon...

He bolted up! Outside...the cab was passing McDonald's where he and Jessa had been earlier. Walking through the front door was Jorge, and he wasn't alone. Bud Kramer sprinted by his side.

Vic ducked low in the seat, pulling Jessa down with him. The two men didn't see him. They were through the door before the cab got close. "Get this buggy moving, dammit!" he told the driver. "I want out of town fast!"

chapter forty seven

2007-12-12T07:33:00.000-08:00

word count: 830

bud pointed ren in the direction of the lazy boy and the remote,, as he made a pot of coffee,, and dissolved four of janeys sleeping tablets in the light sweet cup he fixed for ren...

while ren enjoyed his coffee and a little channel surfing,, bud showered,, redressed and perfected his time line....

as he entered the living room,, ren was in the fully reclined position sleeping like a baby... bud checked the cup,, he had drained it... thank god...

bud set the timer on his watch for five hours,, as he set off out the door.. he figured he had five hours in which he had to locate jorge,, locate vic,, and get back here before ren awoke...

bud returned to the prison. he "re-interviewed" martinez. getting jorge's contact information with out too much difficulty in light of the fact that he had advised martinez,, just in case he was reluctant to cooperate,, that they were prepared to charge him with "accessory to murders, plural. three of them so far,, and the longer you hold off,, the longer the list will become"...

staring at three life sentences or a minimum 75 years inside,, getting martinez to spill his cousins address and cell number was as easy as getting ren to have just one more donut....

he was not even out of the parking lot of the prison before he had jorge on the phone... he told him some bullshit about vic being on the move,, and needing him to meet him at the pay phone in the parking lot of the seven eleven on 34th and clark.. he ended the call with "and vic said, don't fuck this up like you did the fucking bucket thing,, whatever that means... he said you would understand....." and abruptly snapped his cell closed....

bud parked in the liquor store parking lot across the street from the seven eleven.. he wasn't there more than a few minutes when he saw a beat up old white pick up pull up in front of the pay phone...

as jorge sat obediently in the truck and waited for vic to arrive,, bud crossed the street and sauntered toward the truck.. he walked toward the pay phone,, digging in his pocket like he was trying to rustle up some change. he approached the passengers side door,, saying something to jorge about "having change for a dollar.." when jorge looked up,, bud stuck his 45 thru the window of the truck, and yelled "freeze!!"

"chinga madre..." was all jorge could say,, as bud explained to him that he had every intention of blowing his fucking brains out if he did not take him to vic dimarco... now....

jorge,, having no desire to die protecting a cheap piece of shit like vic di marco,, took bud right to the hotel room.. bud accompanied him to the door,, and they knocked.. nothing..

"you better not be playing with me motherfucker ,, i am telling you i am in no mood to play..." bud snapped at jorge,, the 45 in his ribcage emphasizing the point...

"no ,, man i am telling you,, i fucking dropped him off here,, him and that whore,, the one with the cuffs.. i am telling you ,, they were here... " jorge pleaded,, knowing bud didn't believe him,, the one time in his life he was telling the fucking truth....

bud jimmied the window free and knocked the screen to the floor,, he pulled back the curtain.. the room was empty... but,, as nearly as he could tell,, jorge had been telling the truth,, amongst the discarded beer cans bud saw a pair of bolt cutters laying on the foot of the bed,, and some severed handcuffs on the counter near the bathroom sink... fuck..

"get back in the truck..." he said as he nudged jorge in the direction of the stairs....

three hours and fifteen minutes to go.... bud sat silent for a moment,, his thoughts consumed with his janey... what the fuck was his next move?? he had been so sure,, so positive that he could pull this off,, that he could get to di marco,, and back to ren and pull this whole thing together... his thoughts were jarred by the unfamiliar ringing of a cell phone,, jorge's cell phone...

"answer it!" bud directed as he stuck the gun under jorges jaw,, and pressed it in for good measure.....

"diga mi"

"vic!!" jorge exclaimed loudly as a bit of the color returned to his face... he pointed to the phone,, signaling bud that it was vic on the phone...

"macdonalds?? which one?? no problemo mi amigo,, estoy viniendo,, i'm coming, i am on my way..... " he exhaled for what felt like the first time since he had met bud and his side kick, 45....

they drove toward the macdonalds at which they had been instructed to pick up vic fucking di marco and his whore,, in silence,, each of them was privately thanking god for small favors.....

Chapter forty six

2007-12-11T08:31:00.001-08:00

word count: 847

"We gotta get outta here," Vic muttered under his breath. The last thing he wanted was Uncle Frank's thugs to realize he saw them load a body into their car. Hell, he'd be the next cadaver they took for a ride.

"I'm still hungry," the whore said, standing next to him. They were calm words, but a glance her way showed she was trembling as much as he.

"Right, let's go."

The warmly lit McDonald's was a great relief. They pushed other patrons aside to get in, in to safety, away from the carnage they'd seen a few blocks away.

The teenage clerk eyed them warily. "CanITakeYourOrder?"...It all came out a like a rumbling freight train. He tapped his fingers on the counter and glanced away.

"What do you want?" Vic asked.

"Pancakes and sausage." Her voice chirped it out like a happy five-year old.

"Make it two...and coffee, lots of coffee."

When they settled at a table, the girl grabbed her food like an animal, fumbling for the plastic fork, tearing open the container.

"I guess your mother never taught you table manners." He opened his utensil packet calmly and spread the napkin on his lap.

She looked up from her syrup-deluged pancake stack, fork in hand, stating, "Don't talk about my mother."

"Sensitive issue, I see."

She glared back. "Did it ever occur to you I'm a person, not just some whore you can force to go down on you whenever you like. I got a family and stuff just like you. I'm a person!"

"Okay. Okay!" Other people were staring. He could feel their eyes cutting into his skin. Their conversation, louder than it should be, didn't help either. He started his stack of pancakes. In his annoyed state, they slid down his throat like cotton balls, sticking along the way.

His eyes rested on her skinny fingers, clutching the fork in a fist like a farmer's wife. Except unlike a farmer's wife, her fingers and thumbs were riddled with cheap rings and her long fake nails boasted a ghastly shade of black. Her bare arms were so skinny, it was hard to believe a living person possessed them. The last time he'd seen arms that thin was his Aunt Frieda days before she succumbed to cancer.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing...nothing." He studied her face, so thin, etched at the moment with lines of outrage. With her dark hair spiking out all around, she looked like a scarecrow. He ran his eyes down to her breasts, held captive in a tight shell which hardly diminished their significant size. It looked like balloons stuffed in there. No wonder people were staring at them.

"Quit looking at me. Dammit!" She returned to her meal, eating slower now that her initial hunger had been sated. As she savored each bite, her expression took on a childlike innocence.

"I didn't mean to stare. I'm sorry."

"Well, I'd appreciate you treating me better. I'm just saying, I deserve better."

"You're a whore!"

"Well. I'm a person, too! Why don't you call me by my name once in a while, instead of 'Hey you' or something?"

People were staring again. His brain was muddled. "What is your name anyway?"

"Jessa! Dammit, my name is Jessa!"

"Okay...Jessa." His eyes traveled to the entrance. He was always on the lookout. When you had as many dirty deals going down as he did, you kept your eyes open. Two big men came through the door. Vic's heart slammed to the floor. "Get down!" he said, grabbing Jessa's wrist to squeeze his point home. He motioned she should duck under the table. They met there, bumping heads.

"What the hell is it?"

"Uncle Frank's men. The ones we saw. They know me. Can't let them see me."

"Oh shit! From the fucking frying pan to the fire."

"Stay still." He peeked up, scanned the restaurant. Bending back down, he whispered, "I don't see them. Let's run for it."

"What about my breakfast?"

"Bring it with you! I don't care. Let's go!"

They scurried like mice, out the front door and off to the nearest alley, stopping to catch their breaths, leaning against a wall.

"Good! I think we made it," Vic said.

"Can I finish eating now?" Jessa had her plate of pancakes. She lifted one with her bare fingers and stuffed it in her mouth.

Vic was busy thinking and didn't notice. "You know what?" he said. We need to change our appearance. We're gonna get caught if we don't do something. He paused to look at her. "I think you need some different clothes, maybe a ladies' suit, some old lady shoes, flatten your hair down, maybe some fake glasses, perhaps a 'librarian'-look."

"Old lady shoes? No way! What the hell are you talking about?"

"We're going to Macy's and get some clothes so we blend in. No matter how far we travel, they're gonna find us if we look like this. And if they find us, we're dead meat. Now come on, let's go."

chapter forty five

2007-12-07T15:19:00.000-08:00

word count: 694

sated now,, ren eased back in his chair and emitted a contented belch..."so,, you want i should call down for the other one?? whats his name?? martinez??"

"what i want,, is for you to call your uncle frank and check on janey.." bud barked at ren,, doing his best to filter out the disgust in his voice...

"not a problem..." ren retorted as he withdrew his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket and popped a single digit speed dial number...

bud was playing out every possible scenario for getting himself free of ren.. killing him now,, was out of the question.. loosing him equally as bad an option,, either way would have capos crawling out of the woodwork,, and put janey's life in the ultimate danger...

"hey... is my uncle frank around??" ren spoke somberly into the phone. he knew this was killing bud,, and had he had his druthers,, he would not have put him through this... but it was out of his hands.. like so many things in this life.. just out of his hands....

as ren waited obediently for audience on the phone,, bud arrived at what he deduced to be the only way to separate himself from ren,, and do it in such a way that neither ren nor his family of dago slime balls would be any the wiser...

sleep had become an unnatural act for janey over the course of her progressive illness. though they never really talked about it,, bud knew she had been addicted to a variety of sleeping pills over the years. he had turned a blind eye.. he had wanted her to be comfortable,, to be happy,, as happy as she could be living her lonely solitary life in a chair...

he knew her tolerance to the sleeping pills was outrageous,, it was not unheard of for her to take them four or five at a time,, in order to just be able to fall asleep... and that was never a guarantee she would stay there...

he also knew the last few times he had picked up her prescriptions for her, she had been prescribed flunitrazepam, rohypnol, on the street they called them "roofies" or the "date rape drug"... one of the most potent benzodiazepine on the market...

"uncle frank, how ya doin'??" ren spoke as if he was making a social call... there was a period of silence,, as he listened intently,, ren stood and walked toward the vending machine.. he struggled his hand into his pocket and withdrew a hand full of change as he spoke,, "yeah,, thats why i'm calling... " he fiddled two quarters out of the mess and managed to slip them in the slot on the machine... " yeah,, yeah,, i gottcha... hey,, you got it..." he said as he snapped the phone closed and returned it to his pocket...

if bud could just get a couple of the roofies down ren,, it would buy some time,,, time in which he could get an exact address on martinez cousin,, jorge,, and pay him a little visit,, without anyone in the yacovella family even knowing what was going on... it was a shot in the dark,, but the only shot he had right now.. he had to take it... janey's life was on the line....

ren searched the glass plated vending machine for a moment,, before he said, "fuck it" clicked on the coin return and retrieved his money...

"nothing to report on that end... everything is fine.. uncle frank says to tell you not to worry,, they wouldn't do anything to hurt her..." he knew how unconvincing he sounded,, but that was the best he could do.. he was breathless,, he knew if bud found out what uncle frank had really said,, he was a dead man...

"i gotta get the hell outta here.. i need a fuckin' shower and a change of clothes,, and a good cup of coffee.. i cant fucking think anymore..." bud said as he stood and walked toward the door,, he wasn't giving ren any chance to oppose him,, he either followed him or got left behind,, and he knew he couldn't afford to be left behind...

chapter forty four

2007-12-07T05:42:00.000-08:00

word count: 732

Vic felt calmer now. The girl had finished, at gunpoint, what he needed her to do. Still gasping for breath, he kicked her away from his crouch, sending the handcuffed whore rolling into the corner. His hand grasping the gun hug low and useless only for a second. Even in the midst of orgasm, he knew to keep his guard up. This bitch was tricky.

"Now I can think," he sputtered in between breaths that came like volcanic eruptions, only in reverse.

"What the fuck did you kick me away for?" the girl whined, crawling back as best she could manage. Her eyes were always on the gun, even now, as she struggled to keep from toppling over, her balance totally off because of the cuffs.

"I'll tell you what, I got a lot on my mind, so shut up, okay. I don't want to have to gag you." He struggled to zip his trousers with one available hand, while the other still clutched the weapon. "I'm worried about Jorge. Everyone knows following him is likely to lead to me."

"So what?"

"So what? I got a feeling a lot of people would like to get their hands on me. You do realize I've been strong-arming the mafia, don't you? And that Kramer guy, he's always out there snooping around."

"No skin off of my nose."

"You think not? You think they won't take out a two-bit whore just for a little target practice? We gotta dump Jorge and get out of here."

"Let me go. You don't need me."

"I'm not leaving you behind to squeal all about me to anyone who asks. I'm keeping an eye on you."

The whore didn't respond. She sat close, her eyes staring back like tiny black dots. Her hands trembled. She looked away to hide her vulnerability. The bitch needed a fix. Couldn't deal with that now. "You know," he said, "you'd be smarter to work with me rather than against me. Let's face it, we're in the same puddle of shit. We should be helping each other instead of fighting." He reached over and lifted her face up to look her in the eyes. "What do you say? Will you work with me a little here?"

For what it was worth, she nodded.

"Okay, we're out of here. Jorge has gone for a while. If we leave now, he'll never know what happened." He helped her up and creaked open the door. All clear. "I'm taking the cuffs off you, but I've still got a gun. Remember, we need to stick together, you got it?"

She nodded. He could only hope for the best, but he'd kill her to keep her quiet if she bolted, and she knew that. She had to know that. He was crazy, surely she realized he was insane, right?

It was a new day outside. The sun was just rising, casting a soft orange glow over the busy city, bouncing off skyscrapers, softening their importance. Hard to believe they could be in so much shit on such a gentle morning. Oh well, grab a sniff of the good life when you can.

"Look, we're going on foot. A car is too hard to trace. Maybe a bus or train, I dunno."

"Where?"

"I dunno. Let's just head for the train station."

"I'm hungry."

"Huh?"

"We haven't eaten since yesterday. I'm hungry."

"Okay, okay. Maybe some fast food. Gotta be careful not to show our faces around, you know." Truth be told, he was hungry, too. He was always hungry after sex, and the whore's blow job had made him ravenous. They walked quickly toward a McDonald's at the edge of town, side-stepping the usual junkies littering the sidewalk. As they neared Malleo's, Vic grabbed the whore.

"Look, I don't want to walk past the front door. That damn place is Mafia-Central. Let's cut through the alley."

Even by morning's light, Malleo's aromas filled their nostrils as they slid between buildings to the alley. When they arrived, he pulled the whore back with an abrupt motion. Malleo's loading dock was a busy place today. A Cadillac was parked, trunk open, and two busboys were loading a huge plastic bag into it.

Vic shuddered, startling the girl. "What's wrong?" she whispered.

Vic shook his head in horror. "That's a body. They're loading a body into the trunk!"

chapter forty three

2007-12-05T05:18:00.000-08:00

word count: 599

"focus,, focus,, you will never get anywhere swirling around in your own dust,," bud chanted to himself silently, in the dimly lighted recesses of his overloaded, aching brain...

he forced himself to focus on the interview...

"you are so full of shit... you might as well save it though,,, i don't know nothing,, so it isn't going to do you any good to be making up horror stories to get me to spill something i don't know..." jason seethed,, looking straight into buds worn,, bloodshot eyes...

even as the words escaped his lips,, he could tell bud wasn't making all of this up... he could tell bud had not the energy to make any of this up.. something was wrong,, something was different.... a cold chill ran the length of his spine,, as he waited in silence for bud to say something... 15 seconds... 30 seconds,, 45 seconds...

"come the fuck on man... what the hell is going on here??? who could possibly even know i know jessa??" he paused,, "except the fucking screws that let her in here.. damn it,, damn it,," he stood and started pacing wringing his hands looking around wildly.. "its them isn't it?? those fuckers... i told martinez not to get involved with those fuckers... i told him it would be drama.. god damn it.. "

"keep doing exactly what you are doing,, don't look at me,, but listen.. act like i am not saying what i am about to say... it is our only chance, alexander,, yours and mine.. no matter what we think about each other,, or have ever thought about each other,, you and me,, we have to pull together on this.. do you get me on this?" bud said pleadingly.. he could not stop his own agony from showing thru...

jason stood at the end of the table,, he placed his palms on the stable and leaned into toward bud.. he looked him directly in the eyes and said,, "i don't know why i am even telling you this.. but for some reason i believe you.. deputy di marco... that is the guy martinez hooked up with his cousin jorge to dispose of the buckets... i swear to god,, that is all i know.. "

they heard the door open,, bud looked up at ren with a look of disgust,, "call in the babysitter in outta the hall,, will ya ren,, this little fucker doesn't know a thing..." bud barked,, as he shot one last pleading glance at jason alexander... he stood and slammed his chair against the table as he pushed it in,, "i need a cup of coffee,, how about you??" he said as he went out the door and quickly down the hall.. he couldn't look ren in the eye.. not now..

di marco,, again with the di marco.. but now he had something to go on.. something no one knew a thing about but him... jorge,, martinez' cousin.. a connection on the outside,, a connection that just might be able to lead him to di marco... now all he had to figure out was how the hell was he going to shake ren malleo,, shake him without allowing him to know he had been shook....

bud looked on in amazement,, as across the table,, ren sat there loudly sucking stray sugar off each finger as if he hadn't another care in the world... as his stomach heaved with disgust,, bud promised himself,, if he made it out of this alive,, he was gonna kill that fat fucking two faced son of a bitch....

chapter forty two

2007-12-03T05:53:00.000-08:00

chapter 42
word count: 514

The silence suffocated Jane. The crazy man hadn't spoken for the last hour. She had thought they were bonding when he admitted they were both victims in the same calamitous soup. But now he sat in the corner, curled up, aloof, as though she didn't exist. When he did at last speak, his voice sliced in acerbic cuts through the dark, digging deep.

"Yep. We're both victims, victims of your hubby."

"What?"

"Your hubby. I mean, he's chasing me down til I'm stuck in a hole, and he's abandoned you in this hellish cell, as well."

Jane shuddered. The very idea! "Bud did not abandon me."

"Sweetheart, we've been in here for days. It seems to me he doesn't want to get you back very much or he'd have gotten his precious wife out of here by now." He followed that with a chortle from deep in his throat.

"He's trying. I know he is." Her heart started again... thump, thump.

"In your dreams."

She could hear his shoes scraping the concrete floor, shifting position. The next time he spoke sounding closer, even though it was a whisper. "Seems to me this is a handy way to get rid of a useless wife...an invalid wife...let her die in some stinking basement somewhere."

"NO!"

"Mrs. Kramer, you're going to rot here, while hubby shops around for a new little missus. One with some signs of life below the waist."

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" she roared, pulling against the ropes that bound her wrists, wishing her useless legs could propel her. She'd kill him! She'd go over and grab his neck and squeeze and squeeze...a pain in her chest...a pressure the size of an elephant slammed against her, squeezing the air out of her lungs....she couldn't breathe.

A crip like you shouldn't make empty threats," Stan returned. "Besides like you said, we're two peas in a pod, you and me. Hell, maybe we can get together since hubby don't want you." Now that would fix Bud Kramer, screw his wife.

She didn't answer.

"Ms. Kramer?" Nothing, not even a squeak from the wheelchair. Stan dragged himself to her. He found the woman's body slumped over. She was still. Was she breathing? He checked. Dragging back to the door, he pounded with both fists. "HEY! HEY! SOMEBODY! SOMETHING'S WRONG WITH THE WOMAN! YOU BETTER GET HERE QUICK! Mission accomplished. He'd taken proper revenge on Bud Kramer, through his precious wife.

As Bud took his last sip of coffee, he placed the cup down, next folding his hands on the table to watch as Ren went for another donut. Unbelievable! A stab of fear suddenly overtook him, deep, resonating, the kind of fear you get in nightmares, uncontrolled. It swirls like a cyclone out of your reach, taunting you, hurting you, and you can't stop it. He felt light-headed as it took him by surprise, knocking the wind out of him. His head swirled while at the attack's conclusion, a black-fisted illusion of dread sucker-punched him in the face. What the hell? Something was wrong, very wrong.

chapter forty one

2007-11-30T07:24:00.000-08:00

word count: 679

bud had pulled the prison records,, the fcic's, the local, county, and state reports on both of the inmates he was about to question.. simple street hustlers.. drug addicts,, some recorded violence,, but that was to be expected when every day of your life was spent fighting to survive...

neither of them had been involved in the whole baby thing,, of that he was sure... his only hope is that they had some connection,, or at least some information,, concerning the removal, return, and subsequent disappearance of the buckets in question..

he knew what he had to do.. he had never entered into an interrogation in this fashion,, and swore to god if he got janey out of this alive,, he never would again...

his back was up against the wall. it was time to play both ends against the middle,, and he had to start somewhere... he knew he was playing with fire,, neither alexander, nor martinez had anything to lose... and a person with nothing to lose,, is the most dangerous kind of person there is...

they could both be bought and sold,, by him and anyone else that came along with a sweet enough purse. his gut told him no,, but his heart said yes,, this was about janey,, and that changed everything.

he reread jason alexanders jacket,, there had to be something in there he could use....alexander, jason. dob 9-13-82.. he had spent the last ten years in and out of corrections.. possession, criminal tools, drug abuse,, intent to sale,, petty theft... three of the above arrests had been in conjunction with the same woman,, a jessica longo... known addict, prostitute,, similar rap sheet.. she had been to visit jason the day they killed ruben... no direct tie in,, but alexander had no way of knowing that... it wasn't much,, but it was all he had...

jason didn't like the idea of being pulled in for questioning again. after all in this particular instance he really didn't know anything.. he was picking up trash,, minding his owns business,, and bam!! there it was,, a bucket. a foul smelling bucket. a bucket that just happened to contain the body of a dead infant floating in a sea of rancid grease beside the burnt french fries ... what more could he say??

knowing this did not keep his palms from sweating or his heart from pounding hard in his chest. knowing he was completely innocent of anything that even resembled involvement in this did nothing to set his mind at ease. after all this wouldn't be the first time they had found it convenient to pin some bullshit on him just because he happened to be in the wrong place at the right time...

when jason finally arrived at the interrogation room, kramer had the guard release him from his handcuffs and asked him to wait outside.. he settled into one of the cold metal chairs and looked across the table at jason... there was something in his eyes jason didn't want to see,, a sad, desperate look, that made jason even more uneasy.

"i need you to take me back to the beginning jason... i need to you to tell me everything.. i cannot tell you why i need to know,, but i can tell you that there are already two people dead,, and at least four more lives hanging in the balance..."

"dude, i already told you guys three times everything i know... i mean what is there to know?? it was there,, i was there,, and now i'm here... what else can i say???" jason shuffled his feet and looked everywhere but directly at bud as he spoke..

"and what if i told you one of the lives that was currently hanging in the balance was your friend,, a miss jessa longo??"

jason quit fidgeting and looked directly at bud.. "jessa?? what the fuck could she have to do with any of this???"

"i know of at least two others who are asking that very question at this very moment... only difference is,,, one of them is willing to kill her to find out....."

Chapter Forty

2007-11-28T16:45:00.000-08:00

chapter 40
word count: 653

"Bud, I got the background checks you wanted on Stan White and the others." Red's call interrupted Bud Kramer's turbulent daydream.

"I asked for checks? Must have been a mistake. Forget about it." Bud hung up before Red could respond. He might have been, wished he was, anywhere else. In fact, his old desktop looked oddly unfamiliar, as though it belonged to someone else. Was this the price of losing your honor? Detachment from what used to be familiar and loved.

In a storeroom on the other side of town, Janey shivered, not certain if it was from a draft or sheer terror. She'd been alone for a long time. They'd taken away the man who kidnapped her. Now she sat in the dark, bound by rough ropes and deathly afraid. Thoughts of Bud kept her will to survive alive. Surely they would give her some food soon. She could smell cooking aromas coming from somewhere...garlic, spices, bread baking, even coffee. Her mouth watered. If only they would at least turn on a light. Speaking of "they"--she had no idea who "they" were. Her heart pounded like a racing horse again. She'd had palpitations off and on for hours.

With a creak, the heavy door opened and a bundle dropped to the floor. She shrieked at the heap abandoned in the corner. With the dim light, it was nothing more than a gray mound. A gray mound that moved! And it moaned.

"Oh, goddamn!"

A head rose up from the mass. At least it resembled a head. Even in the dim, Jane could see the face nodded with pain to match the ungodly moans. Was it the man who kidnapped her?

"Are you all right?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"Jesus Christ! Do I look all right?"

"I was just asking..."

"A lot of good that does."

"What...what happened to you?" There went her heart again, racing, racing.

"The bastards beat the shit outta me, can't you see that?"

"I guess. It's dark in here."

"Sweetheart, you should be glad. You wouldn't want to see me in good light."

"I guess you're right. I never could stand the sight of blood."

He snorted in return.

Janey studied the sorrowful lump of a man. He certainly didn't seem as dangerous now as when he dragged her screaming from her home. Now he was small, wounded, defenseless, defenseless like her. She relaxed. "Could I ask you something? Why did you kidnap me?"

In the dim light his body went rigid. "It was all about your dear hubby, lady. I needed to control your dear hubby."

"Why?"

"He was getting too close. That's all. He was getting too close."

She and Bud never thought his work would put his family in danger. A medical examiner normally doesn't delve into the violent side of police work. But then, Bud was no normal medical examiner. "Did you commit a crime?"

"YEAH, I COMMITTED A CRIME! Now back off!"

"It must have been a terrible crime. I'm just saying, kidnapping me was an extreme act."

He bolted up. "Are you trying to make me insane?"

"No. Just trying to figure out how I got into this mess, that's all."

"Well, look, little Miss Sweetness and Light, you were nothing more than a pawn in other people's mind games, okay?"

"Okay...So who are the people holding both of us now?"

He was silent for a moment before answering in a husky whisper, "Mafioso."

Her heart took off on the most rambunctious arrhythmias yet. "What?"

"Lady, if I wasn't tied up, I'd get up and pop you one. Are you ever gonna shut up?"

"I'm just saying it looks to me like we are not enemies anymore. We're fellow victims."

"Well, whoopee! You wanna start a club or something?"

"Well, we could help each other. Give each other moral support at least."

"That we should, lady, that we should."

chapter thirty nine

2007-11-24T07:29:00.000-08:00

word count: 637

bud punched the redial on his cell,, and just as quickly snapped the phone closed... no... he would not involve "red" in this.. red was a good cop,, a straight cop,, and buds only link to the "real" police force at this point in time.. the less red knew then better.. no telling if they would drag him into this somehow,, and then he would have reds future hanging in the balance as well...

"so tell me ren,, exactly what do we know about this guy,, this di marco???" bud himself knew very little.. he was a guard at the prison, he was pals with stan white,, and more than likely he had in some way been involved,, or at least had knowledge of the whole "baby in the bucket" thing that had gotten them into this mess in the first place....

"well,, i can tell you i know for a fact he is a player.. he has as many friends on the inside as he does on the outside... " ren started,, as he loudly smacked his lips around the tip of each finger in hopes of finding a bit of leftover sugar.... '"he's good at what he does... lots of underlying suspicions,, no proof,, ya know what i mean???"

yeah.. bud knew exactly what he meant.. in fact to him it sounded like ren malleo was reading aloud his own autobiography...

for as long as bud could remember everybody suspected warren "ren" malleo was dirty,, was playing both sides against the middle.. but no one could ever pin anything on him.. he had too many friends.. to many favors out.. too much protection... and it wasn't only on the dark side of his family tree.. he had just as many dirty cops that owed him, as he did compadres...

bud decided he might be handy to have as a partner on this thing after all,, if anyone could crawl up vic di marco's ass,, it was ren malleo.. they were one in the same....

as they pulled into the parking lot of the prison, bud flashed his badge at the guard at the gate.. he had not had the chance to make any of his findings on the case public,, and thus the hierarchy of the DOC had no reason to believe he was not there in his original official capacity...

he would continue with the investigation as if he had never heard of the now deceased, jessica what ever the hell her last name was,, and her virulent lover, stan white... he would forget that he knew that it was them that had conceived not only the fetus itself,, but the plan for its unceremonious burial in a bucket full of used kitchen grease. he would forget that he had seen stan white bound, gagged, hog tied, and beaten on the cold cement floor in the back room of malleos restaurante...he would forget for the moment he had ever heard the name vick fucking dimarco...

but he would not for so much as an instant,, forget that this two faced piece of human shit that was now being forced upon him as his partner, was linked by blood to the bastard that had his beloved janey,, held somewhere against her will,, and would not release her to him,, until he had extracted the highest payment imaginable from bud,, his honor... no that he would not, could not forget...

bud took a deep breath.. he closed his eyes and let some of the homicidal rage that now dwelled within him to be caught up in that breath,, and with it,, exhaled...

he would start at day one.. all the way back.. with the two inmates that originally located the baby in the bucket on the side of the road...

he would start with jason alexander and raul martinez....

chapter thirty eight

2007-11-24T06:03:00.000-08:00

Chapter 38
word count: 462

Bud sipped hot coffee before leaning back to take a long look at his new companion, "Ren." So now he was cavorting with the enemy, a bloody cop on the take. The guy's uncle was mafioso. And Ren was nothing more than a quick fix in the department to keep his family's noses clean. Bud's stomach lurched at the prospect of working with the guy. And, now he promised Uncle Frank he would look the other way when Frank needed him to, just like this idiot...shit. He was no better than Ren now.

The cop looked back, a hesitant smile crossing his face. He appeared less than eager to work with Bud. The fellow took a bite from a sugar donut. Ha! The irony...this filthy hand of the mafia, sitting around drinking coffee, eating donuts, and acting like a friendly neighborhood beat cop.

"Aren't you gonna eat?" Ren wiped sugar off his fingers and flipped open a notebook,

"No."

"Well, as I was telling you in the car, I know who we're looking for. I just don't know where they are right now."

"Refresh my memory." You filthy bastard.

"We're looking for Vic DeMarco and a hot little number he picked up off the street, a hooker."

"Splendid."

"You got an attitude problem?"

Bud returned his gaze. The fat ass-hole. Look at him, stuffing his face with donuts. The man was a poster boy for weakness and lack of discipline. It was hard to believe the guy had such ruthless relatives. The choir boy innocence had worked, though, getting him a job on the force. Who could believe he had blood on his hands?

Then he remembered why he was doing this. Janey's face wafted through his mind, and the picture Uncle Frank had shown him, the one where her beautiful eyes looked out, begging for rescue. "So when did you talk to him last?"

"He called me on his cell phone for an update. I told him what had happened, how Uncle Frank had your wife and Stan. He went ballistic. He wanted them."

"What for?"

"I'm not sure if he is on a power binge or if there's some reason he needs a bargaining tool." Ren took another bite of donut, and continued, answering with his mouth full. "I've never quite understood the guy. A lot of skeletons in his closet."

Bud's heart clouded. "My wife is in the middle of this.You mean he wants a bargaining chip against me?"

"I don't know. You got anything on him?"

"Who the hell is he?"

"Security at the prison. You know him."

Bud gulped his coffee. Of course, that Vic DeMarco. We're back to the prison again. "Did he have anything to do with those canisters that were found?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure."

"Well, let's find out."

chapter thirty seven

2007-11-21T06:10:00.000-08:00

word count: 641

"so when do i get to see janey?" bud asked,, knowing full well it would never be that easy...

"not so fast,, my new friend..." uncle frank laughed under his breath,, as he rolled his cigar in the ashtray,, he pushed the ashes around with the stub of his cigar... pondering the ashes as if what he was about to say was hidden in there somewhere,, and he had to find it....

finally he lifted his head,, looked directly at bud and smiled knowingly...

"you understand,, of course," he spoke slowly and distinctly,, "that there are certain aspects of this most recent,, shall we call it,, 'chain of events',, that concern me greatly...." he paused,, exhaled and continued,, "not the least of which is the unfortunate passing of my beloved nephew,, ruben. may he rest in peace...." he made the sign of the cross ,, glanced up,, as if into the heavens,, and then returned his gaze to bud....

"it has been brought to my attention,, that the piece of shit that we found in possession of your lovely wife,, more than likely perpetrated the untimely demise of my dear departed nephew,, as well..." he took a deep breath,, leaned forward on his desk,, settling his chin into the crook between his thumb and forefinger,, and stared directly into buds eyes...

"however,, i,, much like you ,, my friend,, prefer never to jump to hasty a conclusion... i want facts.. physical evidence even where ever possible... an eyewitness perhaps??? and that,, as i am sure you can see,, is where you come into all of this....."

"a friend of mine,, a trusted friend,, has led me to believe that there were others present,, there in the the moments that my ruben drew his final breath... others that can confirm or deny my suspicions,, and thus cut short this period of,, well,, indecision...."

"given your degree of expertise as a detective,, and your intimate knowledge of the point of origination of this atrocity,," he looked knowingly at bud,, causing bud to wonder if in fact he was privy to information concerning the investigation from which all of this had eroded.. "and your,, shall we say,, 'connections'? i have decided that you will be the one to find these 'others',, and bring them here to me... i want you to find them.. i want them delivered to me,, personally.. and i want them,, with in twenty four hours..."

"if and when you comply with my wishes,, i will reunite you with your wife.. and not until.." as he finished his statement uncle frank pushed back his chair,, stood and walked to the door.. for an instant bud thought that was it,, he was going to open the door and usher him out...

instead, as uncle frank opened the door,, he heard him confer briefly,, in hushed tones,, with one of his associates that stood just outside the door...

bud heard the sound of footsteps,, someone walking away? then silence.. finally the returning sound of footsteps,, but this time,, it was more than one set of footsteps,, and they were walking toward the door....

"uncle frank,," bud recognized a familiar voice as it broke the previously dead silence...

"come in,, please... i've been expecting you ... so glad you could join us.." uncle frank greeted the familiar voice warmly,, with an audible kiss on each cheek...

the two of entered the room and the door was closed behind them...they moved toward bud,, who was still seated in silence,, facing uncle franks enormous mahogany desk.. as they walked to the front of the desk and into buds field of vision uncle frank used his hand to signify his desire for bud to stand and greet the newcomer...

"detective," uncle frank smiled as he winked at his guest, " i believe you know my nephew,, my brother wally's oldest son,, warren..."

chapter thirty six

2007-11-16T06:15:00.001-08:00

word count: 690

The exterior of Malleo's hadn't changed through generations of the family. Father passed it to son and each succeeding generation kept that facade of their life and "business" the same. Bud remembered when he was just a kid standing across the street watching limousines drop off well-heeled "customers." If not them, then dirty skinny degenerate types oozed through the front door like dirty water after a storm, looking over their shoulders in fear with hands trembling. To be succinct, even little Buddy knew something was going on behind those heavy oak doors. Something bad, very bad.

Bud kept those ghostly memories with him as he stepped in Malleo's Ristorante that afternoon. A waitress shot him a startled look and turned her head in alarm to a fellow seated at a table in the corner. He put down his wine and bolted toward the offices in the back.

"I'd like to see Uncle Frank." He stood calmly while nailing the waitress to the floor with his eyes.

"Um...yeah, sure. Tony's seein' about it...Mr. Kramer."

They knew who he was. Not surprising. Everyone in town knew Bud Kramer and his ghastly disposition coupled with astute detective skills. The nightly news had seen to that. They were enamored by his flair, his problem-solving. He always surprised.

"Mr. Kramer..."

Tony escorted him to the back through a darkened hallway. Bud felt thick expensive carpet under his feet. It was too dim to see what color it was. Maybe brown, maybe dark red...like the dried-up blood of Uncle Frank's enemies. A light at the end of the hallway drew them in. A huge man sat hunched over a desk, cigar perched in his fat fingers.

"Mr. Kramer."

"Actually it's Dr. Kramer. I'm a doctor, a pathologist."

"Whatever. Have a seat." He paused, eyeing Bud from top to bottom. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Not many people set Bud's heart to racing, wanting to flee, but Uncle Frank did. The giant man telegraphed a great many bad things. Disdain for others, sinful pride, decadence, blood lust, greed, a rejection of normal values of respect and love for neighbor, replaced with a soldier-like warped view of reality where anyone and everyone else is the enemy and justified to be killed if necessary. He was dirty. Evil. Sick.

"I think we may be looking for the same culprit, the guy who killed your boy Reuben."

"Is that right?"

"Well, I'm looking for him, too."

The big man shifted in his seat, making the overworked old chair squeak. "Don't you think you ought to be looking for your wife?" he asked.

Bud's world came crashing through. Janie! What the hell did this thug know about Jane? Uncle Frank leered back at him, his bulbous face grinning, shooting off sparks of evil glee. Bud lunged at the man; all he could see was black rage. He wanted to kill. But heavy hands held him back. Uncle Frank's minions had popped out of the woodwork.

"You bastard! What do you know about Jane?"

"This." Uncle Frank dangled a photo in front of his eyes. It was a photo of Jane, seated in her wheel chair, ropes wrapped around her, her face contorted by fear.

He pushed against the hands that held him and roared, an unhuman growl. All that he held precious in the world was in the hands of this monster. He had to get her back.

"'Doctor' Kramer, we need to make a deal. Wouldn't you agree?" Uncle Frank took a long puff off his cigar and blew smoke in Bud's face.

Bud looked back. His blood skidding through his veins in a race to parts unknown. His head swirled like he'd stepped into another universe with different colors and thinner air, one where the standard rules certainly no longer apply. Jane! He had to get Jane back! Her face in the photo haunted him. She looked so lost.

"Whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want." And so, Bud Kramer, the last honest man, went down in flames.

"From now on, you're one of my boys, you got that?" Uncle Frank said.

chapter thirty five

2007-11-06T05:05:00.000-08:00

word count: 582

bud took a deep cleansing breath and allowed his logical,,calculating mind to put some of the pieces of this puzzle together..

we had the dead girl,, the mother of the child,, jessica whatever her name was... a scared,, beaten imp of a girl,, that had worked in the cafeteria of the prison...

enter,, stan white,, prison guard,, fit for the father,,, he was there in the fore of the whole thing.. had access to the buckets as they seemingly appeared and disappeared like a magicians trick,, somehow in the safe confines of the doc..... yes,, bud believed he could make that happen...he had also been m.i.a.. since the finding of jessica's body..

bud could see it all so clearly now,, white had panicked,, when he had closed in on the woman,, and offed her in an effort to shut her up.. ok,, that fit too...

so far as bud could deduce thru the grieve soaked haze in which he was presently mired... white had been the missing piece in every thing so far,, well everything accept the dead junky.. sargent "ren" malleo's brother reuben,, how did white tie in??

there had to be something... something that bud was missing,, something that tied stan white to that murder,, coincidence was not a word bud believed existed for any good reason other than to provide the inept with an easy explanation,,, and mired in grief tho he was he was definitely not inept...

his mind cleared,, his heart raced.. he could feel it,, he was on to something,, all these years on the force had taught him one very important thing... your gut don't lie...

he picked up the phone and called the station.. he ordered a full background on everyone he knew to be involved,, stan white his partner vic di marco,, the girl, the confirmed mother of the fetus, jessica.. why the hell couldn't he remember her last name??? reuben malleo, deceased,, warren "ren" malleo ,, just because the guy hung his shingle out proclaiming himself to be a cop,, did not relieve him of being a suspect.. especially now,, with a dead brother and his mafioso ties...

"why hadn't bud seen the connection before??" he had had "ren" there with him in the parking lot,, the murder scene,, he had allowed himself to be blinded by sentiment,, and that fucking blind spot had provided exactly the the window that someone needed to crash into his home,, invade his world,, and kidnap his beloved janie...

bud worked it thru,, "ren" was a cop,, he was gonna be easy to keep tabs on ,, his brother was dead,, stan white was out there somewhere,, more than likely with his precious wife.. that left vic dimarco,, unaccounted for..

bud grabbed the phone and made a call to his partner,, red,, "vic di marco.. find him.. you can reach me on my cell..." he barked into the phone,, and snapped it closed.

that left the final piece... the yacovella family...

the family was more than likely gunning for who ever it was they suspected of killing "one of their own" no matter how many times removed... and if bud knew "uncle frank" like he thought he did ,, he knew his criminal mind had latched onto this whole stan white thing long ago,, as he had been unaddled by the wave of grief bud himself had succumbed to,, and not lost out on precious time...

bud grabbed his keys.. he knew now what the next step had to be... malleos restaurante.. he had to get to uncle frank....

chapter thirty four

2007-11-04T12:25:00.000-08:00

chapter 34
word count: 587

Ren hung up after talking to Vic, shaking his head. Would that be enough to satisfy his people? Well, he'd find out soon enough.

Later, he entered the restaurant. The usual rush bulleted through his veins in hefty pumps. It always felt that way as soon as he entered the premises. Even when he was a kid and had no idea of the "business" in the back, there was something about Malleo's Ristorante, perhaps the eerie lighting or its Old World flair. It was like walking into a new era.

"Back again so soon?" the waitress asked.

"Is he in?"

"Yeah, go on back."

Uncle Frank was hunched over his desk as usual. He nodded when Ren walked in. "I hope you have good news for me," he said without looking up.

"Your guys got him."

The red bulbous face broke into an evil smile. "Bring him here. Let me see the sonofabitch who killed my Ruben."

"I'll tell Ricco, but Uncle Frank, there's something else."

"Eh?" His attention had already returned to his work.

"There's a woman, too. He had kidnapped this girl and we got her in the process."

The older man looked back, now interested. "Who the hell is she?"

"Bud Kramer's wife."

"Kramer's wife! What the hell?"

"Uncle Frank, here's the deal. A guard at the prison who knew all about our guy. He's the one who tipped us off. I owe him. He says we can keep the killer, but he doesn't want us to have the woman."

"Has he got some beef with Kramer?"

"I dunno."

Uncle Frank paused, rubbing his chin, thinking. Finally, he spoke. "We'll keep her, too. She must be worth something. I'm sure we can use her to our own advantage...a little leverage against Kramer. He's always been a pain in the ass getting underfoot."

"Vic's not gonna like this."

"So what? What do I care what a two-bit security guard thinks. Bring them both here and forget about it."

Across town, Bud Kramer sat in his favorite chair in their living room. Sitting rigid, straight up, not moving. What was there to move for anyway? He was waiting. Just waiting for the phone to ring. He needed to know where to go, to go and bring his wife home. They were late. They should have called last night. Now it was the middle of the next day and still no word. Where the hell was she? Where was Jane?

It gave him time to think, to ponder the initial call, to wonder with whom he was dealing. The caller had said he knew who took her. He offered to chase that guy down and bring her back. The more Bud thought about it, the more convinced he was the caller was, in fact, the man who took Jane and not a bystander. But why? When the caller made his list of demands, there was nothing in the list to offer any clues.

Perhaps it was someone Bud had brought to justice, maybe sent to jail, and this was simply of matter of revenge. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. His heart stopped. If it was revenge, Jane would never come home. The animal was simply taunting him, making him suffer, before the kill.

Surely, the lab had finished with samples he sent in...he'd hardly completed the thought when the phone rang. It was his assistant, Red.

"Bud, the prints have been identified. A guard at the prison, Stan White."

chapter thirty three

2007-11-03T06:09:00.000-07:00

word count: 536

vic smacked open his cell.."di marco.." he barked into the receiver...

"so what is that supposed to mean,, good news and bad news???" he stood up and started pacing the room...

"they what??? how the fuck did that happen??"

"god fucking damn it.. you know what this means??? do you?? do you know what this fucking means?"

whatever it was.. it wasn't good.. jessa could only hear the one side of the conversation,, but from her vantage point the possibilities that she was going to get out of this,, or just out of these freakin' handcuffs was dimming by the second....

"i cannot f'ing believe this.. there has to be something.. some way... let me think on this and i'll get back to you..."

"no!!! for christs sake ren...you have fucking done enough as it is!!!" snap.. the cell was closed... the energy level in the room heightened considerably as vic threw his hands up in disgust...

"small potatoes girl friend.. you just became really small potatoes you know that???"

"what the fuck is that supposed to mean???" jessa snapped back.. handcuffed or no,, jessa was not letting off on her edge.. she had nothing else on which to rely at this point...

"it means.. what ever the fuck happens to you,, and what you know,, doesn't mean diddely squat anymore.. it means you are worth no more to me alive than dead.. it means if you piss me the fuck off i am going to kill you myself you stupid fucking whore.. so if i was you i would keep my freaking pie hole shut!!!!"

vic was ranting,, fuming... he was pissed at the world.. and she was in the perfect position to take the brunt of it.. damn it...

"ok,, ok.. tough ain't gonna cut it sister... whats your next move??" jessa's brain went into over drive.. she could do this.. she had gotten out of worse scrapes than this.. if there was a frickin' god,, he had not saved her from sure death so many times before this,, just to bring her here and let her die handcuffed,, in a chair,, in some cheap motel... that much she knew.....

vic slapped open his cell.. he hit speed dial.. someone he knew well enough to need the number at the press of a button,, jessa noted...

"ren.. check this out.. lets work this thing out together.. call 'em.. tell em they get to keep the guy.. payment.. blood for blood.. for ruben..."

ren??? ruben??? ruben?? as in "big ruben" malleo.. brother of sargent warren "ren" malleo,, that fat bald headed piece of perverted ass??? that fucking asshole junky who insists his father was some kind of a mafioso?? the one with the fucking cop brother that always seemed to get him out of the little cuts and scrapes that landed everyone else in the can?? the very reason that jason was behind bars right now?? ruben?? was that who was fucking beat to a bloody pulp in the parking lot of the ware house?????

the picture was becoming a whole lot clearer... now all she had to do was figure out how vic di marco fit into all of this... she had a sneaking suspicion,, if she could do that... she was home free.....

chapter thirty two

2007-11-03T05:25:00.000-07:00

chapter 32
word count: 541

Jane opened her eyes slowly, very slowly because with the slightest movement her head protested in thunderous bolts of pain. She must have fainted...or been knocked out. With a deep breath to withstand the next pang, she threw her eyes wide open. The room was dimmed. A guard stood by the door, a desolate figure hunched over a machine gun. A tiny ray of soft morning light reached through an open slit where the drapes didn't quite come together. It must be morning. The light beam danced across the carpet in a frenetic display, driven by an obscure movement outside turning its beam off and on like a light switch. The little dancing light was like a ray of hope, hope she would get out of there and back to Bud.

He would be worried, always treating her like a porcelain doll, fragile and easily broken. But she was made of tougher stuff. Being a cripple her whole life toughened her other senses and hardened her skin. A quiet woman, her powers of observation and deduction were astute. It was no accident Bud frequently brought home mysteries to pick her brain. Her current predicament had come out of nowhere though. She could only guess these thugs were Bud's enemies, including the one bound, gagged, and dumped in a heap across the room from her, her first abductor.

It must be a motel room--the cheap TV on a dresser, monotone bedspread. The bathroom door lay ajar, a crack revealing bright light inside. A movement. A voice.

"Ren? Tell Uncle Frank. We got him, and the woman, too. I don't know what you want to do with the cesspool who whacked Ruben, but the woman could be valuable to us."

The other voice crackled in Ricco's ear. "You got Stan? Jesus! That's great. I'll tell Uncle Frank. Maybe let him decide on the festivities. But Ricco, the woman, she's married to a cop! If you jerk around with her, you'll have every badge in town gunning for you for kidnapping one of their own."

Ricco shifted on his feet nervously, finally sitting on the closed toilet seat. He leaned forward and hissed into the phone, "I gotta use her for something! I got a lot of trouble chasing my ass. She could buy me freedom, man!"

Jane stretched to listen. It was her life they were talking about. Although she only heard one side, it was enough. Enough to know she wouldn't be going home soon. A shuffle made her look up. The thug across the room was waking.

"Ow, shit!" He moaned, then startled when he saw his thigh, wrapped with a sheet, a blood-stained sheet, although the brilliant hues of red where it was fresh, and a duller maroon where old blood had dried, looked entirely gray in the dim light. He gazed over and spotted Jane.

He nodded to her and moved his gagged face in frantic motions, enticing her to come closer.

It was then Jane realized she was gagged, too, and her hands bound. She looked back, eyes wide. Neither of them were going anywhere, at least not by their own volitions. Not that she would go anywhere with that sonofabitch anyway.

chapter thirty one

2007-10-29T03:37:00.000-07:00

word count: 515

a list of contingencies,, was rattled off by the muffled voice on the phone... they were to be followed down to the letter,, and would result in a return call ONLY after all heat had been verifiable called off...

it was then that bud would be given the location at which he would find his most cherished janey, unharmed... one misstep,, one deviation,, and janey would buy it.. plain and simple...

bud gave his solemn word to follow all the instructions and await the return call.. what else could he do?? the life of his beloved janey swung in the balance...

as satisfied as any man in his position could be,, that a deal had been struck,, stan snapped closed his cell phone and looked in the rear view mirror at janey harnessed into the rear seat of the navigator.. eyes wide with fear,, mouth gagged,, and limbs bound...

"how the fuck did it go this far??" stan could not help but ask himself.. the reality that he had kidnapped an innocent invalid in a last ditch effort to save his own skin,, becoming ever so real to him as he watched a single tear escape janey's eye and trickle slowly down her porcelain white cheek...

like fireworks,, boom!! boom!! boom!! boom!! four shots rang out.. one by one the tires of the navigator where hit and conceded to the deadly blasts.. stan head flew about on his neck,, doing a 180 this way and that... "what the fuck??"

it was then that the three masked gunmen,, dressed head to toe in black,, each pointing a high powered automatic weapon at his head became visible in the darkness.. he could see glow of the red laser pinpoints on his reflection in the otherwise darkened rear view mirror...

janey let out a gurgling scream,, squelched by the gag secured tightly in her mouth.. she did her best to slump down in the seat,, but was held fast by the seat belts designed to secure her safety...

"get out of the fucking truck!!" boomed three voices almost simultaneously.. shots rang out... boop-boop-boop-boop-boop they navigator was being riddled with bullets.. it was only a matter of time till one of them nailed the gas tank. boop-boop-boop.. still more shots rang out.. they were coming from all directions..

stans survival instinct kicked in.. he threw the truck in reverse and stomped on the gas.. sparks shot from the rims as the forced them to grate mercilessly on the pavement...

his last ditch effort was abruptly cut short as he slammed full speed into an unlit,, but securely anchored light pole.. it sliced threw the back door of the navigator,, stopping just short of janey,, and catapulting stan headlong onto the windshield...

before he could regain his senses the three gunmen were upon him... they shot out the lock on the passengers side door.. they were in the truck.. he was being dragged out onto the pavement.. stan tried to scream,, but as if he was living a dream sequence,, no sound would escape...

he felt a swift jab in his thigh.. then everything went black...

Chapter thirty

2007-10-28T17:37:00.000-07:00

chapter 30
word count 449

With a gloved hand, Bud placed the bloody knife in a plastic bag, then stood back to gaze at the empty wheelchair. Next, he'd dust it for prints. Check for DNA. Who would do this? He hadn't called it in yet. To bring in the cops would disturb the sanctity ensconced in the quiet of this empty room where his thoughts prevailed. Jane! Poor Jane, an invalid in a wheelchair, helpless, carried off...His Jane! He'd always treasured her like a china doll, cared for her, loved her.

He'd been violated. This home, this place away from the dirt and grit of his normal existence, this refuge from it all, and his gentle, comforting wife...intruded upon by a stranger who ripped it to shreds leaving broken and empty parts behind. If he closed his eyes, he could sense her out there somewhere. She was all right. He knew she was all right. But probably very frightened. She was helpless, unable to help herself or run away.

Bud Kramer wanted to kill whoever did this. An unfamiliar blood lust invaded his heart. In everyday life, he was a medical examiner, a scientist; he never carried a gun. It was against his principles. His typical day was filled with cleaning up the vestiges of death, and he had no interest in causing more of it...until now.

His cell blaring in his top pocket interrupted. He fumbled it out, still dwelling on the residue of his conflicted emotions.

"Bud Kramer?" The other voice sounded distant. It fought to get his attention.

"Yes."

"I understand your wife is missing."

His heart lurched. "What do you know about it?"

"I know where she is. I saw her and the guy who took her. I can help you...if you help me."

Games! What kind of games was this idiot playing? "What do you mean?"

"I know where they are. I'll chase them down and get your wife, return her to you. All I want is for you to drop it at that. The guy who took her. I want him. I don't want the cops to get him. If you let it go, don't tell anyone, he'll be mine. You get what you want. I get what I want. Do we have a deal?"

Bud had never made any deals. But this one would bring Jane back to him. If there was one thing people said about Bud Kramer, even though they loathed his sharp tongue, it was that he was honest. But Jane was out there somewhere...frightened, pulled out of her fairytale innocent existence...helpless to fight back. This went beyond job description or personal ethics. It was all about Jane.

"You've got a deal," he said.

chapter twenty nine

2007-10-26T06:43:00.000-07:00

word count: 506

ricco salvatore had been in or around the "protection" business his whole life.. if you wanted something covered,, you wanted ricco salvatore.. he was thick and smooth,, like a fine italian olive oil he spread quickly and evenly over situation,, with little fat or excess,, and he did his best work when the heat was on....

and the heat was definitely on.. he had reports that the i.a.'s were in on the hunt.. that meant there was him,, the whole county police and sheriffs offices and now the i.a's all searching for stan white,, the scumbag piece of shit that took out "big wally" malleos,, junky fuckin kid...

ricco had been at the game for too long.. he knew law enforcement as well as he knew his own family.. he knew there was no fucking way that there was this much police action gunning for this white son of a bitch for killing some junky off the street.. oh no ,, there was a back story to this,, and right this moment ricco had put his doggs onto finding out what that back story was,, as you never know when a man in his position might need a little insider info to glaze over a "little indiscretion" here or there...

as was his custom,,, he had begun his own fact finding mission in what he saw was the hotbed of all of this trouble to begin with.. he had called a couple of the guys he knew in the doc.. he had found out there was some kind of internal investigation going on over there.. some inmates had found a dead baby in a bucket on the side of the road during a routine clean up,, and somehow or another the bucket,, read the baby,, was linked back to the doc itself.. it had all been on the hush hush,, but ricco was just the kind of guy that paid,,, and paid well,, for such information...

the lead forensic detective on the case was bud kramer... a good cop.. a respected cop.. a cop that could not be bought.. ricco admired that.. the man had convictions,, he believed in them,, and he had always remained unwilling to back down.. ricco should have been so lucky to find a man like him to work his side of the street...

he had a man on bud,, and another on buds residence.. cripple wife.. long story,, but likely easy target... a weakness such as this was seldom overlooked by the kind of coward son of a bitch that would take down a ne'er do well fucking junky in a parking lot with a tire iron..

and ricco had been right on the money... as he flipped his cell phone closed he was secure in the fact that not only would the two guys he had tailing stan white bring him in,, but they would return the little woman to bud kramer in the best possible condition.. and that my friend,, was something even bud kramer would be willing to pay for....one way or another....

Chapter twenty eight

2007-10-26T06:18:00.000-07:00

Chapter twenty eight
word count: 535

Stan made up his mind. He was sick of the chase. He needed safe haven, needed a way to make Bud Kramer back off.

"I know your weakness, Buddy boy," he murmured. Bud had a wife. Not many knew it, but Stan stumbled over the information in the clerk's office one day while fishing through personnel files looking for crap on someone else... for a little blackmail. He remembered being in a hurry, tossing through the folders like a mad man before the office assistant returned. And Bud Kramer's file fell right into his fingers. He had a wife. Later, Stan had driven past the Victorian on Skyvue Drive and seen the lady in a wheelchair on the porch, reading.

Jane Kramer had finished her tea and settled in with a good book.

"Ms. Kramer, can I get you anything else?" the housekeeper asked. That lady was a huge woman, with legs as big as hams bulging out below the hem of her dowdy house dress, and worn canvas shoes squeezed on swollen feet, while a bitter smile on her face matched the ensemble.

"No, Patty. You should go home now. You look tired."

"Thanks. I will." The fat lady grabbed her purse from a table and left without a word.

Jane sighed and picked up her book. This one wasn't working out either. They'd have to find another housekeeper soon. Glancing at her watch, she noted Bud would be home. Patty always left a meal warming on the oven. Today's spicy chili aromas made her mouth water. At least the woman was a good cook. She returned to her novel, a good murder mystery.

Stan slipped in the door easily. The housekeeper came out as he mounted the porch steps. He'd smile and spoke.

"I'm Ms. Kramer's cousin, in from Texas. How do you do? Is she in?"

The weary woman eyed him with disdain. "Yeah, just go in. She's right in the living room there." With a limp wave, she took off, anxious to get home to a cold beer and put her feet up.

"Thanks," he said. Thanks for making it so easy, bitch!

His blood pulsed like a rock band gone nuts, discordant themes doing war with one another, slicing through his head. He loved the hunt. The stealth, the surprised victim, the clutch to the throat to silence him. Where was she?

He spied her. Stuck in a wheelchair. This was too easy. Creeping up behind...the clutch...the muffled cry...the knife to her neck.

"Keep quiet and I won't kill you," he hissed in her ear. Her body stiffened. "You're coming with me," he said.

Bud returned home to an empty house. At first, he thought she was asleep. Then he looked in the living room, the bedroom, everywhere. His gut told him. His gut told him something was very wrong. His eyes confirmed it when he saw the knife on the floor. Blood decorated the weapon in a ghastly pattern of death strokes. But the blood was dried. Oh God! Hopefully it wasn't hers. He had to find her. He had to find Jane. But where?

chapter twenty seven

2007-10-24T03:38:00.000-07:00

word count: 610

despite his original heady joy at seeing jessa in the doorway,, cuffed and once again within his realm,, the voice of reason,, such as it was,, inside vic di marco took over and told him he better buy a little time and think about the next step...

although a nagging part of him, he liked to call "little jimmy",, said cuff her to the bed and just fuck the shit out of her every available orifice... vic decided to go with the slow methodical approach,, and began by calling down to jorge,, and requesting a pair of bolt cutters at his earliest convenience,, translation,, "yester-fucking-day..."

he slowed down the tempo of the whole thing.. offered jessa a beer,, instructed her to relax,, and have a seat, and resumed his position on the bed...

"so what the fuck is exactly going on here??" jessa asked as she hoisted the beer to her parched lips with almost unequivocal ease,, for someone that had been nearly killed, kidnapped and remained handcuffed in a cheap motel room with a man of questionable intentions...

a resilience,, vic did not let go unnoticed... "work it di marco.." he couldn't help but say to himself...." there may be more than just a easy piece of ass in there somewhere,, and right this moment you need every fucking thing going your way,, you can muster..."

"you got balls for a bitch in cuffs..." he retorted,, doing his best to assume the position of authority he believed was rightly his,, while not treading too heavily until he decided what purpose this little bitch might serve for him..." i say we start with you... and that punk alexander you went to visit today..."

"jason,, what the fuck could jason have to do with all of this... he's fucking locked up... hes been locked up,, you know that.." jessa looked at him with a face that read confusion,, but inwardly a very definite light went on...

this fucker was in some way connected to that dead baby.. has to be.. why else would he have taken an interest in her?? surely a guy like that didn't have to pay for pussy,, and even if he did he didn't have to shop it at the doc.... he thought jason knew something,, and he had talked to her about it.. that was the only logical explanation... he wanted to know what jason knew....

"just answer the fucking question, ok?? don't tell me what i already know..." vic took a long pull off his beer,, never loosing sight of her even as he tipped the can to his lips...

jessa assumed the position....

"jason is my old man,, or was my old man,, or might still be my old man,, i don't know ... its a complicated arrangement... with him in there and me out here,, who knows... a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do you know..." she said,, sheepishly hanging her head,, rubbing her feet together uncomfortably.. the perfect 'she ought to be ashamed' stance....

" last week i heard something in the news.. i saw jason on the tv,, something about him and some other dude finding a dead baby in a bucket on the side of the road... to tell you the truth,, the only reason i went in there today was to find out what the fuck was up with all of that... you know,, did he have anything to do with it... cuz i might be a lot of things,, but i ain't no accomplice to no shit like that you know...." her voice trailed off with her eyes....

the silence was broken by the chime of vic's cell... simultaneously,, they looked at each other,, each silently hoping it was jorge....

chapter twenty six

2007-10-21T11:27:00.000-07:00

Chapter twenty six
word count: 465

Bud backed away then as though the gesture embarrassed him. A troubled frown crossed his face as he studied the other man.

"Look, Ren. I know your family is going to be on the warpath over this..."

"I know. I know...I'll keep them at bay. I want to see justice served just as much as you do."

Ha! Easier said than done. Later, he stood outside Malleo's Ristorante contemplating long and hard before finally opening the door and entering. Plush surroundings wrapped around him and pulled him in. It was warm, with soft light emanating from candles, one lit on each table, and tiny lamps along the walls. Thick red carpets felt spongy underfoot and huge Renaissance paintings in massive gilded frames peppered the walls against dark printed wallpaper. The dining hall swallowed him up, like a baby in the womb.

"Hey! Sergeant Ren!" The pimply faced waitress shot him a smile. His job was a joke in the family. One of theirs, a cop! His waitress cousin obviously enjoyed the humor.

"Uncle Frank in?"

"In the back."

He nodded and started back, face grave with thoughts of the business at hand. His uncle's office door lay ajar. The big man sat at a massive oak desk, pen in hand, going over accounting pages, checking off items as he went.

"Ren! Good to see you!" he said, hearing Ren's footstep and looking up.

"Uncle Frank!" The men hugged and Ren took a seat in a shiny leather chair facing his uncle. "I've got some bad news." He squirmed making the leather squeak.

"Ya look like hell! What's happening!"

"Uncle Frank, Ruben is dead."

"What!" The older man jumped out of the chair. "How?"

"Now, Uncle Frank. Take it easy and let me explain...He got himself killed." Uncle Frank lurched forward, but Ren held him back. "Now, listen," he said. "Let me handle this. I can bring his killer to 'justice.'"

"To hell you can! What are you saying? Pull the bastard into the court system and wait months to see him fucking get parole? Who did this? The sonofabitch needs to die!"

"Uncle Frank, I can handle this. Me and Ricco, we're handling it." Ren steadied the older man and led him back to his chair, easing him down. "Ruben was killed by a lunatic who beat the shit out of him and left him on the street. I don't think the guy even knew what he was doing. Lashed out at the closest thing within reach. There's not much satisfaction in killing someone who doesn't even know why."

Uncle Frank jumped out of the chair again. "I don't care! Who did this? Who is the sonofabitch who killed Ruben? You think I can't find out! I'll get the bastard yet! Now get outta here!”

chapter twenty five

2007-10-17T21:44:00.000-07:00

chain fiction chapter 25

word count: 548

ricco salvatore had made the appropriate phone calls... the wheels of "justice" had been set in motion.. that malleo kid was a fuck up,, a stupid junky fuck up,, but he was "big wally" malleos son,, and the memory of big wally malleo was one that was not easily forgotten... he had been one of the good guys... ricco loved him like a father,, and in some ways,, in the family,, he was the only son that big wally ever really had....

his cell vibrated in his pocket,, he couldn't stand the sound of a phone ringing,, so his was forever on vibrate... "ricco".. he stated expressionlessly into the phone... he listened in silence to the voice on the other end of the line,, free from body language of any kind... finally he spoke..

"yep, that sounds like him.. follow him,, make sure,, if it is don't fuck him up too bad,, i wanna piece of that motherfucker myself..and i am sure his brother would like a little souvenir of his own.... if you take him down,, bring him to the garage.. and then call me...

he closed the phone and smiled... this was beginning to sound like it might be fun.....

bud kramer was still on scene.. the meat wagon had come for what they could scrape up of the body,, the evidence such as it was,, and it wasn't much,,, had been collected,, and the forensic photographers were probably well into developing the shots they had taken by the time warren "ren" malleo,, the victims brother,, as well as the desk sargent over at the third east division,, dropped in on the scene...

what had taken him so long?? was buds first thought,,, but then again,, he had never lost a brother,, he had never had to find out that his little brother was ground up and left for dead in the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse and the prime suspect from all indicators was no where to be found..

no he had no idea how long it would take the cop in him to bounce back from news like that and show up on scene... he was hungry he was tired he was irritable... when he felt like this every one was suspect.

he also had no idea how many palms had to be greased,, how many fires had to be put out,, how many favors ren had to call,, in to keep "the family" to which he and his now dead junky brother were born into as the sons of big wally malleo from making a statement of their own,, and increasing the body count with no justice having ever been met out....

ren held out his hand.. bud grabbed ren instead and gave him a big hug,, "i am so sorry.." he said with a warmth and emotion even he didn't know he was capable of at this point in the game...

"thanks bud,,, ya know with ruben,, we always knew it would happen,,, we just had no way of knowing when or how... but now that it is actually here,, all of that knowing ain't for shit..."

together they watched the sun slip down behind the ware house,, they watched the crime scene tape blow in the wind,, and the blood,, all that was left of rens baby brother ruben,, disappear into the night...

chapter twenty four

2007-10-17T06:23:00.000-07:00

word count: 455

Stan pulled into a rest stop, the first one to come up after dumping the whore. His breaths came in uneven gasps. His hands trembled. Where could he go? He murdered two people. He abused a corpse. It was only a matter of time before they got him.

A cyclone whirled in his head, slamming emotions together in a tempestuous heap. The sum total being insanity. A cacophony of voices pulled him every which way. The logic of heading south of the border eluded him while the dynamics of hate took center stage. Hate for anyone who stood in his way. The whore, Vic, the guy who tailed him, even Jessica, whom he’d loved a little. And Bud Kramer.

Bud Kramer, the larger than life pain in the ass. Bud Kramer with his nose in the air, pushing people around, and now...chasing him; although if he was lucky, Bud didn’t yet know who he was chasing.

“Maybe it’s about time someone pushed Bud around,” Stan White murmured.

Vic flipped the remote like a madman, looking for the porn channel. A little something to amuse until Jorge came back with the whore. Kind of nice to lay low for a while.

A tap at the door and it opened. The girl’s face came through first. The outrage was explicit in her clenched teeth and glaring eyes. Vic’s eyes fixated on the cuffs on her wrists.

“Here she is,” Jorge said. He shot a knowing grin and closed the door, leaving the other two alone.

“Cuffed and ready!” Vic said, pulling his shirt off.

“I’m not doing nothin’ with you!”

“You’re thinking you have a choice? Get over here!”

She backed away instead. “You gonna pay me?”

“Pay you?”

“Yeah, I don’t do this shit for nothin’.”

‘Yeah, right.”

“Besides, I’ve had a bad day, you know? ...We’ve had a bad day. That guy got killed. I got abducted. You gotta cut me a break, right? ...or pay me big money in my sorrow!”

“Which reminds me, what the hell are doing wandering around out here in the middle of no place? Besides looking for tricks?”

“I’m not here looking for anything. That sonofabitch dumped me out of the car!”

“Hmmmph. Can’t say I blame him.” Vic remembered the bloody carnage of Ruben on the ground. His stomach lurched. He looked to the whore and saw a pained expression on her face. She looked up and her eyes met his. They were deep. He could tell, way down in there the devil was dancing for joy about her agony.

“Come here. I won’t hurt you,” he said opening his arms. “Not tonight anyway.”

chapter twenty three

2007-10-15T05:04:00.001-07:00

word count: 535

vic had made his way down river and was under the bridge where 47th ave crossed lewis,, he had paused only long enough to call jorge martinez,, and tell him to get his ass to the chevron he could see at the top of the embankment.. "yesterday..." that was 20 minutes ago... for the first time in a long time... vic felt very much not in control.. and he didn't like it...

he was at home here, riding high above the street, behind the wheel of this navigator, service revolver under the seat,,, proof he was in charge,, just a safety click away.. but standing here now,, cowering in the shadows of this piss soaked river bed,, even he knew he was painfully out of his element...

he walked far enough up the embankment to where he could see the chevron,, but was pretty sure no one could see him.. he stood there for what seemed like an eternity... finally he saw the battered old truck slip into the parking lot and come to an abrupt stop just short of the cage that surrounded the propane tank..

"martinez,, you are fucking god!!!!" vic boomed as he slammed the door and breathed for what seemed like the first time since he had stumbled upon rubens untimely demise... "wadda ya say we get a couple a beers?"

"usted es el jefe,, you're the boss man" jorge said... half thrilled at the prospect,, but hoping it didn't cut into his "cab fare" at the same time... after all time was money...

vic handed jorge a twenty, and watched him walk into the quick mart.. thank god he was scheduled off tomorrow,, he had time.. time in which he had no one to be accountable too.. time to think this thing thru... and most importantly time to let "ren" work his magic,, and make stan and that "ho" disappear..

jorge got him a room at one of the nondescript curry soaked motels along merideth,, and then took off with a crisp $50.00 in search of a suitable female companion,, someone vic could "unload" on....

vic kind of liked the idea of having a "runner". under different circumstances he could almost get used to this.... he laid back on the bed,, took the remote in one hand,, an ice cold corona in the other,, and began to imagine the paces he would have to put this little bitch thru to even come close to relieving the tension that had been building inside him all day....

jorge circled the block.. why is it there was never a decent looking "puta" when you needed one?? as he pulled into the alley to take a piss he saw something that didn't look too bad,, but she was making no attempt at eye contact,, so he couldn't be sure she was working.. thats how you tell them apart,, the "good girls" look straight a head or at the street,, the "bad" ones look at you...

"oye, mamacita, " he called over the dumpster as he relived himself against the already stained red brick wall...

as she turned to glare at him, he noticed something that made him sure this was his girl... she was handcuffed...

chapter twenty-two

2007-10-14T05:46:00.000-07:00

chapter twenty-two
word count: 521

Bud Kramer dropped his black bag to the ground and stood back to look at the body. The man had been beaten to death. Blood and raw tissue decorated the pavement in a Picasso of darkness. He checked his notes. Ruben Malleo, Sargent "Ren" Malleo's brother. Whoever did this would have hell to pay. Unless he could stop the carnage before it escalated.

Bud felt old. He thought of his beautiful wife waiting for him at home. Maybe it was time to retire.

Stan gunned it and headed for in the interstate. The road passed by like the elements of a dream while his mind played the same nightmare over and over.

"Where are you taking me?"

The voice broke in, obliterating the raucous thought process. He spied his hands on the wheel, caramelized with blood, trembling. The whore! He'd grabbed her and drove off. A saner mind slow-stepped to the surface. Christ! He'd really fucked up.

"Did you hear me? Where the hell are we going?" She leaned closer. "If you stop now and let me go. I'll walk away and I won't tell anyone. Please!"

He shot her a glance. Skinny, pathetic bitch! The anger rolled around again in his chest, smoldering, ready to erupt. "Shut up!"

Oh Christ! He'd killed two people, and it all started with that damned baby. The Medical Examiner, Bud Kramer, was probably hot on his tail. And Vic...was Vic out there gunning for him, too?

"You can't blame me for asking where you're taking me!" The bitch again.

"Look! I told you to shut up!"

"I'm not gonna shut up! You've got me cuffed and you're taking me somewhere. How the fuck can I shut up?"

"Look. I don't know where we're going. I'm in a shitload of trouble here."

The girl fidgeted. "These cuffs hurt. Would you take them off?"

"No."

The road passed by in more monotonous miles. Stan remembered when taking a drive used to be a pleasurable experience. Now the trip was a search to find a needle in the proverbial haystack...a safe haven in a world full of cops with an APB out on him.

"I'm hungry, man!" It was her again.

"Sorry, bitch! Can't help you. I'm on the run, remember!"

"I have to pee, too. Aren't you ever going to stop to pee?"

His knuckles got white, clutching the wheel too hard. "Will you shut the hell up?" he roared.

"Can't blame a person for being hungry or having to pee," she muttered.

A short silence, and she started again. "You could just let me out now. I'll take care of myself, and I won't tell anybody that you kidnapped me."

"I didn't fucking kidnap you!"

"Sure, you did, mother-fucker. Don't you think these cuffs make that pretty obvious." She lifted her wrists and jangled them.

God! Would she ever shut up? He swerved onto the side of the road and parked.

"Get out. Get the fuck out of my car." he said.

chapter twenty one

2007-10-10T03:52:00.000-07:00

word count: 590

vic crouched behind the break wall on the rivers edge and listened as stan hit the gas in his navigator, like it owed him money... he pulled out his cell and hit speed dial...

"warren.. don't say anything just listen.. your brothers dead, stan white,, the guy i had him tailing killed him.. he took off in my truck with this hooker that is on the fringe of this whole thing... i need your help... i gotta find him before your brothers in blue.. my ass is on the line here... i need both of 'em, ren... both of 'em"

vic went on to give sargent warren "ren" vincent malleo,, third east division,, desk sargent,, and all around cop for the taking,, his license plate number,, and the direction he was headed in when he sped off... there was nothing for him to do here.. he had to get the hell out of here.. now...

sgt warren "ren" malleo had wanted to be a cop ever since he was a teen growing up on the lower east side.. his father being a made man in the yacovella family had let him see both sides of the action.. by the time he was old enough to make a career choice for himself,, most of his fathers compagni's were either dead or in jail,, but the cops he knew they had taken care of all these years,, seemed to be healthy,, happy,, and prospering nicely... he decided cop was definitely the way to go....

twenty two years into the game,, all he wanted was out.. he was so close.. to retirement,, to a full pension,, to easy street,, and a little place in ft lauderdale driving around in a golf cart...fuck... and now this...

ruben dead... junky or no he was blood.. you did not kill a malleo and just drive off .. fuck up that he was,, he was his little brother... blood for blood.. there was no other way... he excused himself from the dinner table,, and went to "his study" ... there surrounded by all the trappings of a bad cops job well done,, he dialed...

"ricco... ricco,, ren.. ricco,, my brother,, ruben,, yeah the fuck up.. hes dead.. hit... just now... over by the river... i know who did it..."

he filled ricco salvatore, his best friend and protector, in on everything he knew.. ricco gave his word.. it was done... ren hung up..

he flipped on the wide screen,, surfed.. paced.. did a shot or four of the old granddad he had in his bottom desk drawer.. he took his police issue 38 out of the lock box.. he loaded it.. he filled the pockets of his fishing vest with all the ammo he could carry.. he grabbed his tackle box,, his "ugly stick",, and informed his wife he had decided to drop a couple of lines before the sun set.. a quick peck on her too plump cheek,, and he was out the door....

"you fucked up, white.. you fucked up.. no one hits a malleo and lives.. and you my friend,, will not be the first....."

with that he slipped in behind the wheel of his GMC denali,, clicked her into reverse and eased out the drive and into the street... he slowed as the kids playing four square in the street moved out of his way.. he signaled a right turn,, followed the road patiently to the entrance ramp on the expressway... he merged,, and hit the outer lane. he was doing 110 before he passed the first mile marker....

chapter twenty

2007-10-09T04:57:00.000-07:00

word count: 488

"So who is he, Vic? Huh? Who is he? Someone you sent to tail me?" Stan grabbed the other man by the collar and shook him with a deadly violence.

Vic struggled to keep his footing. "Stan, take it easy. Let's talk, man! I think Ruben there is dead."

"I killed him. I oughta kill you, too." Stan's breath came in quick heaves, his eyes darting like bullets. He saw her. Jessa, in the car. His eyes lingered. He licked his lips hungrily before returning his attention to his beleaguered friend. "You son of a bitch, you had me tailed. What for, Vic? Do I make you afraid?"

He shoved the other man and sent him flying. Vic faltered, glared at Stan, then ran. His shirt billowing behind his heaving chest as he disappeared around the corner.

He was gone. Jessa cracked the window and called after him. "Vic, come back! What are you doing? Baby, come back! I'll do whatever you want!" Falling back in the seat in dismay, she turned to see Stan glaring at her from the driver side.

"Open the door, bitch!" He pounded his big fist on the window. Blood from his murderous hands smeared across the glass in abstract streaks and puddles. "Let me in!" he roared. His eyes blazed with a lethal combination of hunger and outrage.

Jessa froze. Her limbs refused to move, her voice gobbled up by a ghostly fear that had overtaken her. He was insane. He'd probably kill her. She remembered the revolver. It still lay, cold and hard in her grasp. She could shoot him, kill him. But Vic told her the windows were bullet proof. She'd have to get out of the car or open the window to shoot.

"Open up!" He was pounding so hard anything not nailed down was rattling. The car vibrated with every pound. She'd kill him. She'd have to kill him.

Her trembling hand struggled to find the door handle, pulling at it with energy beyond her will, like the hand had a mind of its own. She slipped out and turned to face him, resting her hands on the roof of the car, cupped and holding the gun. He stared back, eyes rigid, a small line of spit rolling from the corner of his mouth in slow motion down the concave of his chin.

It was a flash, and he was on her, wrestling the gun away. He held her in a choke hold while with the other hand he snatched the revolver. With a jerk, he popped it open.

"Ha! Empty! No bullets!" He tightened his arm against her neck. "You're not much of a hero, bitch!" Reaching behind, he pulled a set of cuffs from the back of his uniform belt and with a flawless maneuver clipped them across her wrists. "We're going for a little ride, baby!"

chapter nineteen

2007-10-06T12:06:00.000-07:00

word count: 615

as jessa waited on the number 22 bus just outside of the doc,, one of her regulars spotted her and offered her a ride,, and sure enough he was lookin' for a date... imagine that... kinky little bastard,, he even bought her under ware for an extra $50.00... freaks.. gotta love it...

in an hour she was back on the street in her own little section of the hood had she had a fifty in her pocket, and a nice size rock under her tongue.... life was good..

she had noticed the black navigator pass her twice and turn around again,, she knew he was circling... she hoped it wasn't any one she knew.. she really just wanted to get off the street...

as it slowed next to her,, the window came down and she recognized vic di marco right off... before he could open his mouth,, she barked, "what the hell do you want??"

"you know what i want baby.. i been wanting me some of that all day...." he gave her that smile he had been told would melt the iceberg that sunk the titanic... "c'mon,, hop in we can ride an talk about it....."

what the hell she thought,, it wouldn't hurt nothin' to see what he had in mind..... worse case scenario she would get her to take her the rest of the way to her room....

"well since i already know your a cop we'll cut to the chase here... what did you have in mind officer???"

"first of all,, call me vic... and second,," he said as he undid his zipper and eased himself out of his loose fitting blue jeans...

"you need to be whippin' out some cash here honey... time is money and you are wasting mine..." jessa spat matter of factly at him...

he reached up into the visor and produced a folded bill,, he handed it to her.. she opened it,, cool another fifty... why couldn't every day be like today?? she thought to herself as she folded the rock she had hiding under her tongue into the bill and stuffed the whole package safely in her bra.. she situated herself on the seat facing him.. time to get down to business...

she felt him make a left,, and knew he had turned into an empty lot, abandoned by an old factory years ago along the river's edge.

she felt him go tense,, just after he made the turn.. his foot hit the gas full force,, she flew off the seat and slamming against the dash and on to the floor like a pinball.. "what the fuck are you doing??" she yelled...

"stay down!! stay down!!" vic yelled back at her,, as he struggled to drive with one hand and shove himself back in his pants with the other... whatever it was,, she could tell it had nothing to do with her.. he sped across the lot and slammed to a stop.. the door was open and he was on the pavement before the truck came top a complete stop...

"jesus christ stan!!! what the fuck have you done??? what the fuck have you done????" he was screaming at someone,, she had no idea who..

she peeked gingerly over the dash,, and there she saw it,, a body head beaten to a bloody pulp.. a guy,, she assumed was "stan" full of blood and brains and god knows what else.. pacing like a mad man...

she slipped back to the floor,, trying to make her self as small and invisible as possible.. it was then that she noticed the service revolver holstered under the seat.. she grabbed it.. she didn't know much about guns,, but it looked like it was loaded... please god,, let it be loaded.....

chapter eighteen

2007-10-06T05:05:00.000-07:00

word count: 533

Cold beads of sweat formed on his forehead, his heart pumped like a rock concert, guitars about to be smashed in a blazing finale. Tears ran down his cheeks in rivulets of pain. Stan clutched the steering wheel and hit the gas, swerving through lines of traffic like a madman, zigzagging from lane to lane.

He wanted to be free, free of this whole mess. The baby, Jessica. All this because he wanted a good lay once in a while. He couldn't help it, could use some right now, calm him down. He could high tail it up to the "hill" and get one of those black whores. Shiny black skin, and they were never skinny. Well, the hardcore junkies were, but he'd pick a good one. Girls hanging out of windows, "Ten dollars, come on in!" Blow jobs were cheaper. Ha! Poor man's sex. He could hear the chorus of eager voices right now in his head. He went there all the time, before he met Jessica. Then she became a free piece and closer to home. A movement in the rear view jarred him back to reality. A black dot of a car turning the corner with him. He was positive he first saw that black saturn blocks ago. He was being tailed. He gunned it.

The black car weaved in and out of traffic following his same pattern, slower and with more ease, at a distance, but it mimicked his every move. What the hell? Was it a cop? Had they fingered him in Jessica's murder? Impossible. He'd dumped the car. DNA! A cold blade of fear stabbed him. NO, wait, He was clean. They didn't have any samples. He'd never been booked.

"Stay calm," he whispered. "We can deal with this." He turned down an alley and watched to see if the car followed. It did. Driving slowly down cobblestone streets, honking to clear ghetto kids playing, he watched the black saturn a couple blocks behind following his lead. The road finally broke free of neighborhood streets and led to an empty lot, abandoned by an old factory years ago along the river's edge. He jumped out of his car and stood to meet the other man. He waited. The saturn had paused at the edge of the lot. He spied the guy behind the wheel of the saturn, a guy, fierce looking, a force to be reckoned with. Didn't matter. He was pumped. Ready for anything.

The other guy looked at him from the safety of his car, then with frantic movements started a retreat. Stan would have none of it. Racing to the car, he grabbed hold of the driver side door and yanked it open. The startled driver hit the gas, but he wasn't fast enough. Stan dragged him out and threw him to the ground. He kicked him. He pounded his foot into the guy's head til blood ran onto the street. Stan couldn't hear his screams, wails of protest that echoed through the empty lot. The voices in his own head were louder. "Kill him. Kill him before he kills you."

chapter seventeen

2007-10-02T18:05:00.000-07:00

word count: 522

vic left off talking to stan with a distinctly bad feeling... this guy was going over the edge and he was going fast.. he wanted to keep an eye on him,, but from afar,, and he knew just the man to help him do that.... he jumped into the seat of his black navigator,, he punched the speed dial on his cell....

"ruben,, ruben,, i been thinkin'.." he sung into the phone.......
"yeah you fuck head i know you hate it why do you think i do it???"
"whats up man??"
"well i got something for you..."
"something i need you to get right on..."
"yeah,, the scale is still the same..."
"i'll call over to dom and you can go right over and pick it up...."
"and don't be bringing any of your bug eyed junky friends with you.. go alone.. i'm fucking serious here ,, you know how dom is.. he hates to be seen with fucking people like you..."
"consider it done,, my brother.. now heres what i have in mind....."

he proceeded to explain that he needed stan tailed,, he needed to know every thing,, and that meant everything that he was up to every moment of every hour he was not in the doc building... he knew he could depend on ruben,, not only had he used him before,, but he paid him in clean uncut crystal,, and that shit would keep an elephant at attention for days...

"hold on, man... hold on..."

what the fuck?? vic saw stan getting in a car he had never seen before,, a newer honda,, dark blue.. who the hecks car was that?? and where was stans?? he wheeled out of his parking space and went back to talking to ruben...

"take this down.. get a frikkin pen!! right it on your hand,, you asshole!!! xerox-zebra -charles- 5-4-5 - delta ... blue honda civic,, newer like maybe an 06.... he is in that car.. who's it is i don't know.. why he has it i wanna know... call your brother and have him run this for me,, and then you my friend climb up his ass and stay there till i tell you different...." he clicked the face of the phone closed,, ruben still whining in the background....

there.. for the time being he would wait to hear back from ruben.. he had tastier fish to fry...

he had been thinking about that little junky girlfriend of alexanders all day... yeah.. all work and no play makes vic di marco, one horny fucker... he turned left at vine and headed toward the 'hood... that nasty little ho could probably suck the chrome off a trailer hitch... and man did he ever have a metal coated knob for her in his hand right now....

something about seeing stan doin' the dirty with that skinny little kitchen wench hadn't let his pal "joey" here rest all day... and since he wanted to find out exactly what this jessa knew about what was going on in the confines of the doc.... why not just kill two birds with one stone...

he grabbed himself and held on tight...

"little crack head whore,," he thought to himself.... "i got your rock right here,, baby..."

chapter sixteen

2007-09-30T11:29:00.000-07:00

word count: 528

Bud Kramer snapped off the latex gloves and switched off the recorder. The autopsy was done.

He found it only mildly surprising she had ended up on his morgue table. Obviously, someone wanted to keep her mouth shut permanently. As he suspected all along, the girl had been pregnant and given birth recently, only a matter of days. Looks like he'd found the lady who abandoned that baby. But she was dead now, and a probable accomplice was out there. Chances were that he was within the prison gates to have had access to both her and the cans. Specifically, access to the pantry. Bud saw empty containers there after he followed this girl the other day. The pieces were slowly falling into place.

Stan ran out of the junk yard like a madman. He needed to dump the car. After scrubbing out the blood the best he could, he'd headed straight to the lot to dump it before anything happened. He didn't know if it would work, but it was worth a try.

"Hey! Mister, wait!" The grizzly faced owner chased after him on wiry legs. Stan ran faster. He didn't want to talk to anyone. What a mess! What a mess! He strangled her and panicked. He'd swerved into the nearest alley, reached over to open the passenger side, and shoved the body onto the street. It was difficult. He ended up sending her out head first, and the last few seconds involved a lot of shoving and cussing until he finally got the gusto to push the last leg out and out of the way in order to close the door again. Sprawled all askew in the alley, she looked like a rag doll tossed aside in favor of a better toy. Jessica was there because he valued his freedom more than her. If he didn't stop her, she'd have spilled the beans.

He could still see her face when he strangled her as bone and body tissue snapped and felt limp in his hands. The eyes, her beautiful blue eyes, had gone suddenly lifeless, as quick as if he'd flipped a light switch. They failed to speak. They failed to express anything. He was holding that rag doll.

He hitched a ride to a car rental place and got some new wheels and headed back to work. His heart still pounded a nervous rhythm as his hands clutched the steering wheel tighter than need be. He was sweating with nerves pumping when he arrived back at the prison. Heading straight for Vic, he grabbed him by the collar and pulled the fellow's face close to his.

"Promise me, man! Promise me your guys got rid of that damned canister!"

"Don't worry! We can count on Jorge. He's done stuff for me before."

"You better hope so, or so help me, I'll kill you!"

"Stan, calm down! What's the matter with you?"

Stan glared back. "Nothing," he said. But if you've let me down, he thought, I'll be going to jail anyway, so I may as well kill you, too.

chapter fifteen

2007-09-29T19:46:00.000-07:00

word count: 558

stan was in the changing room when he heard a couple of the other deputies laughing about the incident in the cafeteria.

“that skinny little kitchen wench, whats her name jennifer or something,, anyway… she nearly pissed herself,, she dropped a spoon full of mashed potatoes all over herself,, thank god she missed kramer!!! then she took off like a bat outta hell!!”

fuck.. this was forcing his hand… ok, ok, relax… think… relax…he couldn’t even bring vic in on this one.. he had to get to jessica and he had to do it now…..breathe….

as he weaved in and out of traffic,, his heart beating so loud he could feel it rattling his brain as he tried to work the whole thing out…

if he hadn’t nearly hit the that idiots shopping cart and slammed on the breaks, bringing himself back to some semblance of order, he would never have seen her,, as she stumbled out of the bus,,shaking, crying, barely able to hold her self up…

“jessica!!! honey!!! c’mere baby… i’m here its gonna be alright…” he was yelling to her thru the open car window as he veered right and stopped at a indiscreet angle to the curb.. he threw the car door open ran to her,, grabbed her and put his arms around her.. he held her close.. he comforted her.. she sobbed,, her whole body heaving and rocking with the intensity of her pain….

“c’mon baby,, it’s gonna be alright.. c’mon,, lets get in the car”….he guided her slowly and tenderly to the car,, he opened the door,, placed her in the front seat,, secured her seatbelt over her frail, convulsing, frame and ran around to the drivers side….

“lets just drive around and talk a little ok baby,, what can i do?? can you talk to me honey??”

“he knows..” was all she could bring herself to say between gut wrenching sobs… “he knows….”

as they rounded the corner at third and dennison,, stan cut quickly into the alley.. he pulled in behind the dumpster, close to the wall.. her door was within inches of the brick wall,, there was no escape… even if she fought him,, and he could see she had nothing left,, with which to fight…

he glided slowly to a stop.. removed his seatbelt.. slid closer to her.. removed hers.. all the while speaking in rich, soothing, tones…

“its ok baby.. i’ll think if something,, you can believe that.. i would never let him hurt you,, c’mere,, let me hold you,, let daddy make it all right….

he gingerly draped his right arm around her..he slid her closer to him,, “look at me,,, i’m here,, i’m gonna to fix everything…” he tenderly grasped her chin…

he stroked her hair and continued to comfort her as he spoke.. smooth,warm, calming…

she relaxed.. as her head gently touched down on his chest she could hear the maniacal beating of his heart,, she wondered about the look on his face,, was it warm and dulcet like the sound of his voice or raging and contorted like the beating of his heart….

“daddys here now,, hes gonna make it all go away….”

and with that,, he did..

he grabbed a hand full of her dirty blond hair in one hand,, firmly grasped her chin in the other and SNAP… just like that.. it was over.. he was free…

chapter fourteen

2007-09-29T19:44:00.000-07:00

word count: 392 words

Bud sipped his coffee and laid the cup down without making any noise when the cup hit the saucer. His eyes remained glued on the waitress. She was in obvious distress. Her hair lay in a tangled mass matching the appearance of her disheveled clothes. Her eyes darted about like frightened mice running for the corners. And was her hand shaking? It could be her. He got up and headed over, empty cup in hand.

As he got more java, he watched her. She filled inmate's plates with mashed potatoes, eyes cast down, plunking the white mounds onto their waiting platters. Bud moved in for the kill. Holding the steaming cup with one hand, he reached the other into his pocket to produce his ID.

"Miss, I'm Bud Kramer, the Medical Examiner. I'd like to speak with you, please."

The potato spoon went rattling to the floor as the frightened woman gawked at him. Panic raced across her face as she stood rigid, speechless, and trembling.

"Are you okay, miss?" Bud stepped closer. He feared the woman might faint.

"You want to talk to me?" she stammered.

"Just for a few moments." He shot her an uncharacteristic smile. "I don't bite."

The little joke didn't appease her as she followed Bud's nod to a nearby table.

"I have your record here from Human Resources. I see you're single. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Any significant other in your life?" He shot her a smile, this one phony.

The girl paused before stammering, "No."

Bud closed the folder and folded his hands on the table. "I'm not going to play games. I'm just going to get right to it. Did you recently miscarry a baby and dump the body?

The girl half stood as though ready to bolt, but then burst into tears.

Bud Kramer was used to dealing with hardened criminals. This he did not expect. He jumped and ran to her, but she pushed him away.

"No! How could you ask me such a thing?" She got up and ran...pushing past tables, knocking over a chair, rushing from the cafeteria.

Bud followed. He watched as she bolted down the hallway and ran straight to the pantry. When she'd vanished inside, he smiled. "That's where they store the canisters," he murmured.

chapter thirteen

2007-09-29T19:43:00.001-07:00

word count: 572

having already spent enough time trying to dig up vic dimarco, stan made a bee line for the prison kitchen. he was in panic mode.. and need to “vent”.. jessica… he had to find jessica… as he stepped into the prep area, he looked over the paperwork he had in his hand,, his signal that she was to meet him in the pantry…

“oh, god no.. ” she thought to herself.. “i can’t do this.. not now” she exhaled with such force,, it felt as if her life force had left her body with the dispelled air….

she looked down,, into the huge vat of mashed potatoes she was reconstituting,, and noticeably slumped forward.. she wanted him to go away.. just disappear…

she looked up. it wasn’t working,, he was walking right for her.. he cut a quick left at the worktable before hers and headed to the pantry… what could she do.. no telling what he was capable of if she ignored him… she followed….

“what the fuck is up with you?? you decide you are too good for me now?? i get the feeling you are trying to blow me off..” stan was pacing,, he was frustrated,, he was in between the proverbial rock and a hard place with all of this,, and there was no way he was going to let her slip out of his grasp. not now..

“come here baby… this has been hard on both of us.. this is no time to pull away… that makes us connected doesn’t it?? we belong to each other now,, don’t we??” he said mockingly as he pulled her close.. she stared blankly at the floor,, her head against his chest,, listening to his heart beat wildly,, the loud unstructured clanging of a mad man…

he grabbed her by the chin,, and forced her to look at him.. he held her head there.. he bent down and kissed her,, he crushed her to him.. he ran his hand over her hair.. took a firm grasp of the back of it and held on.. he kissed her harder and deeper… wrapped his arm around her waist.. he picked her up and laid her on the cold sterile looking work table,, and loosened the drawstring on her scrub like uniform pants.. he eased his free hand in the back and with a round about motion slid them off and her naked back onto the cold steel surface…

she looked up at him with dead eyes… parted wordless lips…

he undid his service belt, unzipped his fly, freed his manhood and prepared to slam some life into those cold,, dead eyes.. he slid her to him.. just to the end of the table,, pushed her lifeless legs out of the way and …

“who’s yer daddy.. c’mon.. tell me… who’s yer…”

“well,, now.. i’ll be right here if you need me… ah stan.. you sly dog you…”

vic dimarco stood in the doorway,, his broad shouldered stance taking up the better part of the opening… he smiled,, gave a quick wink,, and disappeared outside the heavy metal door…

the very idea of vic looking on as he violated of this tiny, lifeless girl,, spurred stan into near instant fleshly culmination…

in less than a minute he had adjusted himself,, zipped,, buckled, and walked toward the door,, as he glanced back,, he saw jessica,, still lying lifelessly on the cold steel edge of the table…

“phffft.. ” he shook his head,, opened the door,, and disappeared….

chapter twelve

2007-09-29T19:40:00.000-07:00

word count: 488 words

Bud Kramer watched the garage door going down and got out of the car, slamming the door with an obstinate thud. Home at last. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was almost midnight. The extra time it took to drive home to the city from the prison really ate up time. And he's been at the prison until dark, even stopping by the shabby cafeteria to grab a hamburger. Only one lady was there, making preparations for tomorrow's breakfast before she closed down for the day. With a wink and a twenty-dollar bill, he got her to zap a burger for him.

He crawled up the stairs feeling his age, sixty-two. In a couple of years, if he had any other brains at all, he'd retire.

"Bud?"

At the sound of her voice, he rushed to the living room. "Jane," he said, kissing her cheek. A tall man, he had to bend low to touch her, sitting in a wheelchair like she was.

"You're late. I was worried."

"I got busy. I turned off my phone and forgot to call."

"I wish you wouldn't do that. I get frantic, especially when you're out in the field."

"We can't have that," he replied, holding her close. "You know you are the most precious part of my life." The words were murmured with such gentleness it would surprise the people he worked with. No one knew scary Bud had a soft side. Actually, no one knew he had a wife, let alone an invalid one.

"Drink?" he asked, heading for the bar.

"Just some white wine, dear."

"I was up to my neck in it today, trying to figure how that fetus in a canister at the prison got there."

"Well, it was on the news. Maybe someone will call in with a clue."

"In my dreams," Bud Kramer replied wearily. "So what's new on the home front?"

"Not much. My sister called. Sandy is pregnant again. Will that girl ever stop?"

"Again? How can those two hope to feed all those kids?" He handed her the wine while taking a long sip of Jack Daniels. He sat next to her. "Do you ever regret we never had any?"

"No, Bud, no! It would be too...complicated."

"Yep." His mind wandered. That Sandy...pretty soon Bob would have to rob a bank just to make ends meet. He'd end up in prison. Poor schmuck! Wheels turned in his head as Bud laid the glass down. Pregnant women...prison. Oh my God! Jumping up, he blurted out, "Those canisters came in from the outside. But that baby was born within hours of it being found. That baby was born inside prison walls!"

"Bud, you're right."

"I'm going to check out every woman who works at that place. It might be one of them. I'll find her."

chapter eleven

2007-09-29T19:38:00.001-07:00

word count: 647

jessa rechecked to make sure she was going to make it thru intake with as little bullshit as possible as she walked towards the gunmetal gray entrance door marked "visitors".....

bra,,check
long pants,,check
no cleavage,,check
no purse,,check
id in back pocket,,check

she stepped up to the desk,, signed in,, showed her id,was visually inspected by the matron...this was so much bull shit.. this was why she quit visiting jason in the first place.....

but she had to know.. had to find out what all of this meant,, jason being on the news.. in the papers...

she had picked up bits and pieces from what she could read thru the glass caged windows of the paper boxes...

a dead baby,, in a bucket on the side of the road..then something about the buckets came up missing again..she had to find out what jason knew.. and whether or not he had anything to do with all of this...

she sat, nervously picking a piece of dead cuticle off her thumb nail.. bite,, pick,, pick,, bite some more.. she hadn't noticed the tall classically good looking deputy come into the room... nor had she noticed that he had spent quite a while,, as well as some sweet smiles and a few candid laughs over there with the matronly looking female deputy at the intake desk before she had given him the ok to personally accompany her up to the visiting block...

"... and i mean that.." vic dimarco said with a suave backward glance over his shoulder,, and a smile straight out of a romance novel to seal the deal... smoldering,, they would have called it... a smoldering smile... which disappeared as soon as his head was righted and he was walking toward the skinny little crack head girl friend he knew belonged to jason alexander... jessa... he couldn't help but wonder what her tricks called her,, cheyene,, jasmine,, deserie... he had been with enough of these little street hookers to get the drift... something exotic.. something memorable,, something that made her feel like someone else...

"miss longo,, you are here to see jason alexander??" he started talking before he had even stopped walking.. he wanted to catch her off guard,, he needed to be one step ahead... these little street bitches were sharp.. they had a sixth sense.. they could smell trouble..

"follow me." he said, turned and walked toward the door to the visitors hall,, without ever making eye contact...

jessa scrambled to her feet and followed..

when he was safely out of the viewing distance of the female deputy at the desk.. he turned, and said, "how you doin?" smoothly pulling off his best jersey accent...as he looked at her from under his brow, just enough of his too long bangs hanging down that if he angled his head just right and let them fall, just so,, he could pull off "sheepish".. he flashed her a soft smile to bring some light to his otherwise dark mediterranean features...

jessa just looked at him,, what was this asshole doing?? playing her?? he'd have to work a whole lot harder at it than that...and lose the uniform,, and the badge,, and start sprouting some serious cash... she said nothing... just continued to look at him like he was turning green before her eyes...

"follow me.." vic stated very matter-of-factly and looked away... this was not going to be as easy as he had hoped.. he was going to have to resort to plan b.. the street approach.. this one was way too tough.. she didn't look bad for someone that had evidently been around the block more than a couple of times.. who knows.. he might even have a little fun with this....

"alexander!" he called out in his deepest, darkest, most serious, deputy voice.. jason jumped off the bench by the wall and smiled like he had finally seen the light... jessa.. she made it.. thank god....

chapter ten

2007-09-29T19:19:00.000-07:00

word count: 504 words

The office stunk like yesterday's lunch. And the chair Kramer delegated to him wobbled and squeaked. To top it off, Vic was nowhere to be found. Things weren't looking good.

"What do you know about the canisters?"

"Canisters? Oh, you mean the ones I was guarding?"

"Don't get cute with me! I know your pal Vic DiMarco had something to do with the disappearance. Nothing stays a secret for long around here."

"I don't understand the problem. They're back now." Stan tried to attach a smile to the statement. But he wasn't fooling anyone, least of all Bud Kramer.

Bud lit a cigar and blew smoke in Stan's face. "But one is missing," he stated between puffs, exhaling angry hot air at the other fellow. His breath reeked of hot peppers.

"One short? I didn't know that. I was told to guard them, not count them."

"Is that so? And I suppose you had no reason to count them--no personal reason." He hissed rather than spoke the words. When the guard sat silently, showing no reaction to the question, Kramer threw up his hands in disgust. "Get the hell outta here!" he roared.

Once Stan was gone, the Medical Examiner burst out of the office and stomped across the hall to the superintendent's tiny cubicle. That man looked up in alarm as Bud Kramer burst in.

"I want you to get me all the information you can on Stan White, the guard at block 6. Everything! Including talking to prisoners. I want to know everything anybody saw or heard on the day that fetus was found in a barrel, especially as concerns that guy. Got it?"

The startled super nodded his head.

"And don't let his buddy, Vic DiMarco, know what you're doing either."

The super murmured his obedience. Nobody in their right mind would cross Bud Kramer.

Over at her place, Jessica chugged a shot of whiskey. The booze belonged to Stan. He kept at her place for whenever he stopped by. He didn't come often; but when he did he wanted his whiskey. Their trysts in the pantry at work was the only reliable time they got together. That being said, he had been coming more often since the miscarriage. God only knows what story he thought up to tell his wife.

But she wanted to be left alone. Something very precious had been taken from her and it hurt. It burned like hell in the heart. She was draped in despair, and its blackness was calling the shots. Going to work was a nightmare. She could barely make it there, and the workday slopping grease onto inmates' plates seemed never ending. Stan had asked her to meet him in the pantry, but she refused. She wouldn't want to go through all of that again. She was done with men...forever. For that matter, Stan could consider himself lucky she didn't act out her anger toward him.

cchapter nine

2007-09-29T19:13:00.000-07:00

word count: 547

this was smooth... stan was guarding the empty canisters,, knowing full well as he did that the one that had held the remains of his unborn offspring was not among them... he and vic had seen to that,, with a little help from that martinez character and his drunken cousin...

stan pulled one of the canisters over,, wiped off the top with his hand to make sure it wouldn't leave a wet spot on his backside,, as something like that could ruin even the most feared of all jailers day,, and thought about what he was going to have for lunch....

as stan pondered lunch, jorge martinez,, sat on the commode, relieving himself of last evenings festivities,, and making room for the eggs and choritzo he smelled earlier emanating from the kitchen... not a care in the world.. nothing to be done,, his father had seen to the removal of the bucket in question,, and life was good....he would nuke a couple tortillas,, have a couple egg tacos,, and go get lupe.. it was getting hot,, it had to be close to noon.. close enough for a beer any way....

after meticulously using half a roll of toilet paper,, as he had no intention of showering just yet,, he stared down at his masterpiece in porcelain and smiled... a floater... definitely an indication of a good day.....

he flushed, waited and then flushed again... looked longingly at himself in the mirror and said,, "oye,, papi chulo..." in his most devilishly sexy voice,, slicked his hair behind his ears,, and was off....

as stan sat deciding definitely on delivery from papa guidos,, he heard footsteps,, and turned to see detective kramer and his assistant, known only as "red" coming at him fast from behind.. he jumped up and stood at what could have been interpreted as attention as they approached... neither of them looked too happy.. he really didn't want to deal with them and their bad attitudes... it was time for lunch...

" i want to see you and your deputy friend vic dimarco.. now" kramer barked as he and "red" turned the corner into the office that had been commandeered for their use while on assignment here and slammed the door closed..

this did not look good... fuck... where was vic?

as the sound of "danza del sombrero mexicano" other wise known as the mexican hat dance blared out of the silver horn on top of the battered old truck, jorge rearranged his manhood, and grabbed another beer...

lupe peeked out from behind a drawn curtain,, and signaled he would be out in a minute... punching the preset keys on the static filled fm radio in the dash he left off surfing when he felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket..

"hola mami, que onda??" he said after looking at the caller id...
"what does he want?? you know every time you take a call from him it is costing you money right??"....."yeah well i got work to do.. just don't accept the charges if he calls you again.."

he snapped the phone shut, looked at it,, took a long pull off his beer,, belched loudly and blew the mexican hat dance again for lupe.... "para arriba pendejo!" he yelled out the window of the truck, just as lupe came walking out the door....

chapter eight

2007-09-29T19:10:00.000-07:00

word count: 443 words

Bud Kramer sloshed the last dredges of scalding coffee down his throat and crushed the Styrofoam cup with one hand, flinging it to the waste can . He wished it was good Irish whiskey, but it wasn't noon yet. No matter how bad things got, it was his rule, no booze before noon. Never. How could those a-holes lose the canister that had contained that fetus? His anger roared to the surface again. Bud Kramer didn't suffer fools well.

It was like the last time, the time where a baby was found in a dumpster, a baby who had been suffocated. Before his forensics team could get the blanket the baby was wrapped in, it disappeared. They'd had nothing to go on to trace where that baby came from. It was a disgrace, almost losing him the election. But luckily, finding evidence to nail the killer of a beautiful young coed got him back in the public's good graces again. But he might not be so lucky this time. No one liked to see an innocent baby abused. And it was his job to bring the monster who did this to justice.

"Bud, you're not gonna believe this. The canisters are back!" It was the voice of his assistant, Red, so-called because of his blazing-carrot topped head of hair.

"What?"

"They found them down the road from the gate. All of them." That man smiled, knowing the implications of finding one can, in particular.

"Did you find the one we want?"

"We're going through them. Should find it soon."

"Okay, tell that warden to put guards around those canisters, and don't let anyone near them."

Stan heard the hullabaloo when the cantainers were found. Stretching to peek out into the yard from his post, he gazed through the barred window to see the canisters arriving back. His heart beat a drum solo that pounded through his head louder than thunder. How did they get back here? Vic had told him the cans were long gone. He needed to get a look, find the one with his prints on it. They'd probably put a guard detail on them since a crime was involved. He glanced at his watch. His shift was about over.

He ran for the yard, running then walking, trying to a be casual, toward the stacked-up canisters. God! Which one was it? The warden stood by, stroking his chin, lost in thought. He spied Stan and called him over.

"Stan, stand guard on these, and don't let them out of your sight."

"Yes, sir." Don't worry. I won't. When I figure out how they got back here though, someone's gonna pay.

chapter seven

2007-09-29T19:08:00.000-07:00

word count: 549

this whole thing was not sitting right with raul.. sure he was pleased that deputy “call me vic”
di tardo, had approached him to help with the hauling… having him in his pocket was definitely a good thing…

he knew his good for nothing cousin, jorge would only be too happy to catch the $150.00 the DOC would be dropping on him to haul the shit away…again… he just didn’t trust, jorge, he was a sponge… and he wasn’t sure his alcohol soaked brain would follow thru on this… and if he didn’t… surely it would be rauls own ass on the line….

he had picked up the phone several times,, wanting to call and make sure that the deed had been done… but he knew jorge,, and he knew his word was merde,, he was a seeing is believing kind of guy,, not someone that you could trust just because he said so over the phone….but he also knew,, jorge knew what keeping your mouth shut was…he was like a steel trap,, he could in any and all circumstances be relied on… to know nothing…

raul replayed the conversation he had had with jorge over and over in his brain,, “you have to destroy it bro,, it has to be gone,, don’t just dump it somewhere,, take the money and get rid of the bucket… one pinche bucket.. you can do this,, don’t let me down man,,, dont fuck this up … again….”

“si. primo… no problema, no problema,, comprendo,, comprendo….don’t worry…”

yeah,, easier said than done…..

as raul paced,, jorge slept..

“jorge,, borrachone… get up.. go get a job.. go anywhere i cannot see you!!!” his mother called from the kitchen… “i spent all morning cleaning your filth out of the yard…”

the yard,, the yard,, why did that make him feel like he was supposed to do something… the yard,, the yard,, what was it he was supposed to do in the yard???

the yard,, fuck,, the bucket… they had taken it off the truck when martin showed up and they needed an extra seat… the bucket,, was in the yard,, he had to go make sure it made it back on the truck.. he really had to do this right this time,, he had to take care of that pinche bucket once and for all… today,, this morning,, right now….

he righted himself, found his sea legs and stumbled out the front door, avoiding his mothers judgmental eyes…

he scanned the yard,, the chairs were still all sitting where they had left them,, in a semi circle surrounding the fire pit… but the bucket wasn’t there… where was the damn thing??? it had been right there… at least he thought it had been right there,, it had got kind of hazy there in the end of the evening…

“mami,, what did you do with the bucket,, the one that was right here??” he yelled into the house…

“now you care.. now you care where things are,, last night you didn’t care.. you left the yard a mess,, beer cans everywhere,, fire burning,, cigarettes all over the grass,,, now you care about this bucket???

“mami.. where is the bucket??”

“your father took it… what the hell was in that thing anyway,,, the stink!! a whole bottle of bleach he used to clean the stink from it……”

chapter six

2007-09-29T19:04:00.001-07:00

word count: 433

"You mean the can is missing?" Bud Kramer's shrill scream echoed through the jail yard. "How could you lose an important piece of evidence? You want to tell me that?"

"Well, we took the body out and then called your office. We kinda forgot the canister, until now. Someone hauled them all away." Droplets of sweat dribbled down the super's brow.

"How am I supposed to figure out who handled that baby?" Bud Kramer stepped forward, pushing his face up close to the other man's. "What the hell do you expect me to do now? HUH?"

"I dunno, sir."

"You don't know. Get outta my face! Go on. GIT!" He watched the man scurry off. "Damned incompetence," Bud Kramer muttered. Now what to do. They had the corpse of an abandoned stillborn and very little else to go on. Who had mistreated that body?

Stan observed from a distance, crouched low around a corner, eyes wide. Maybe things would be all right. He watched as Bud Kramer kicked up dust angrily and stormed off. That was smart thinking of Vic to help get those canisters out of here in a hurry. He'd have to slip some extra smokes to that Raul guy, too. Maybe things are going our way, he thought.

Later, Jessica woke up to a pounding on the door. Her head hurt. And the residue of a bad dream lingered as she struggled to get across the room. She felt empty, a vast echoing cavern inside, like she'd lost something. What had she lost? Oh, that's right...her baby.

"What took you so long?" Stan stood in the doorway glaring at her.

"I was sleeping."

"Do you feel better? What did they say at the hospital?"

"I didn't go." She shot him a glance. "I feel okay."

"You're gonna feel better when I tell you what happened after you left." Stan helped himself to a beer out of the fridge and plopped down in the best easy chair. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table. Dirt from the yard still clung to the soles of his big black boots. "I was able to pull in a few favors and get someone to haul away the cans before the Medical Examiner could get to them. Something held him up in the office so there was time."

"They took the baby away?"

"Nah, they pulled the baby out before that. But everything else is gone, dumped over a hill or in the river or something probably." He leaned over and clutched her hands in his. "Babe, they've got no evidence against us."

chapter five

2007-09-29T18:58:00.000-07:00

word count: 565

“este cabrón dice que no podemos dejar esto aquí, que no aceptan grasa. ¿no se supone que esto es un maldito basurero?”

jorge martinez told to his,, cousin,, lupe,, that the foreman at the dump said they had to load the five gallon buckets full of grease back on the truck.. they could not leave them here.. they had to take it somewhere else.. and pay again… this was bullshit.. they had already paid the $50.00 to dump this truckload here….

“pinche fuckin’ pendjos” he murmured as he and lupe hoisted the drums back into the bed of the truck…. he would think of something.. they couldn’t afford to pay again,,, they had only made $150.00, to haul the whole load,, and they were not paying any more of it out to get rid of it… this is what he gets for taking a job lined up by his jailbird cousin raul.. everything that guy touched was “salado”,, cursed….

in the mean time,, they could get some cerveza and think about where… after all,, no matter where they ended up leaving it,, they had to wait till it got dark….

they pulled up in front of la tienda and lupe went in for las cervezas… jorge leaned out the window of the truck… “oye mamacita!”

estella turned,, she saw jorge,, and glared at him..” oh so now your talkin’ to me… you disappear for days,, and now you think you can just call me over like some puta??? ”

“no, no ,, baby,,, i been busy,, i been workin’”… see i am workin’ right now… me and lupe,, we’re hauling for the department of corrections… you know.. i was gonna call you,, tonight… no really…”

estella flipped him the bird.. “pinche pendjo… if you weren’t so damn guapo,,” she leaned in the window of the truck and gave him a peck on the cheek…

lupe was approaching th truck with the 12 pack of ice cold modelo.. he did not look pleased that jorge had happened upon estella…

“mira, muchcacho… esta muy linda, no??” jorge turned and looked directly at lupe,, he winked,, play along amigo,, play along…

“si, cabron… “eso es mucho para ti solo. ¿vas a compartir?” lupe said with a laugh….to much beauty for one man…you gonna share??

with that,, they both burst into laughter,, and jorge shifted into drive,,, “Me tengo que ir, mi amor. Tenemos mucho trabajo que hacer. Yo te llamo más tarde.” “gotta go baby.. we have a lot of work to do… i’ll call you later…”

“fuck you jorge.. don’t bother,, i wont be…” her voice trailed off as jorge leaned hard on the accelerator and the truck squealed back onto the street…

ten hours and 24 cervesas later,, they backed up to the fence in the unlit, back parking lot of manpower, the day labor site that had kicked them both out a few weeks before for coming in drunk… pendejos.. they had asked for it.. let them pay to have it hauled away…

together they heaved the six five gallon buckets full of grease over the fence and into the trees behind the building..

it was late,, there was no sound of traffic on the highway.. it never occurred to either of them,, that they had actually dumped the buckets of grease on the side of the highway,, and essentially right back into the lap of the department of corrections…. but they would have enjoyed the irony,, if it had…

chapter four

2007-09-29T18:53:00.001-07:00

word count: 527 Words

Jessica made her way home through the bustling hoards of office workers walking as fast as she could. Stan had told her to go to the hospital and get checked out, but she didn't bother. She just wanted to get home, home where she could be alone and sort her thoughts. My Gawd! The baby! She'd delivered a dead baby, and they'd stuffed it in a canister of grease and stuck it out in the garbage. The baby she'd been carrying in her belly all these months...gone now...

".... look man… no panties…"

Jessica maneuvered into a quick two-step to keep from colliding with the hooker. That ragged lady didn't even see her and went on about her unseemly business unfazed by the encounter. Another junkie wandering the streets, Jessica didn't live in the best part of town. Finally she reached home. By the time she'd crawled up the vomit and semen-stained staircase, she felt faint. The corridor pulsed like a living entity in itself, crawling with the murmurs of its inhabitant hidden behind shabby doors, punctuated by occasional screams or huffy pants of sexual exhaustion, ominous sounds creeping through cracks and crevices riding on the backs of cold drafts and bad odors. Once behind her own door, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Stan paced. Up and down, up and down the hallway where he stood guard. He didn't tell Jessica the implications of their act. Charges for abuse of a corpse? Was a stillborn a corpse? Would they they think he or Jessica killed it? He didn't know. When he'd seen the Medical Examiner's black van pull into the yard, his heart missed beats. That was when the reality hit. They could be brought up on charges. Why had he panicked? He shouldn't have stuffed that baby into the canister.

"Stan, is something wrong?" It was the other guard, Vic.

"Nah, I'm just restless."

"You been pacing up and down this hallway like crazy. You can stay in one place for a while, you know. You're squirrelly today."

"Do you have any idea what the Medical Examiner said?"

"Huh? I dunno. I didn't get to go near him. It's Kramer, remember. I don't want anything to do with that guy."

Bud Kramer! That guy had an international reputation for deciphering even the most mysterious murders. Nothing got past his prying eyes and intellect. And of equal fame was his irascible temperament. The terminator, once he found his murderer, he beat the poor sap to a pulp, pulling together a body of evidence a saint couldn't disprove. A genius! By the time his report went to the DA, if the finger pointed your way, you might as well pack a bag for jail right there. Obviously, the DA loved this guy. He made the attorney's job easy. Stan didn't know how the hell he kept getting reelected, gathering the support of the people, with such a caustic personality. Apparently even they could see the man got the job done despite his mean streak. But they didn't have to put up with him every day.

"And I sure don't want to put up with him either," he murmured.

chapter three

2007-09-29T18:45:00.000-07:00

word count: 542

jessa rummaged thru her purse… “a lighter.. a frickin’ lighter,, is that so much to ask?? i have to have a frickin’ lighter in this purse….” she dialogged with herself as she squatted down right in the middle of the sidewalk,, in her miniskirt, torn black fishnets and stilettos… panti-less,, and caring less,, as she dumped the remaining contents of her black pleather bag onto the cement….

“aha.. i knew it… ” she said out loud to herself,, as she snapped it up, shoveled the remains of her life off the sidewalk, and scampered behind the overflowing dumpster closest to the alley….

she spit out the little white piece of dope she had under her tongue,, and slipped it into the glass shooter… she fired it up…. aaaagggghhhh….. the drugs hit her lungs,, her heart jumped,, her face got hot, her heart beat loud and hard in her ears.. boom.. boom.. boom… oh yeah,, this is what it was all about … this was all that mattered right now…. and all she really had left…..

the sun was beginning to set… the traffic was increasing… if she wanted to keep it going.. she had to get going… her heart sank… three tricks… if she could just do three tricks.. she could get smokes,, dope,, and a room for the night… she could do this….

she took a deep breath,,, exhaled… lit a cigarette,,, and walked out into the middle of the street… there was a car coming,, one person in it .. cool cool…

“hey baby,,, what chu doin’… hey baby… you looking for a date??? c’mon man,, you know you wanna…. look man… no panties… ” she smiled her best attempt at childlike innocence just as the car got next to her.. it wasn’t slowing … “c’mon baby what else you doin’ down here… your momma don’t live on this block… ” she yelled at the driver as he rolled past her…

“yeah,, fuck you too,,,” she muttered under her breath,,, whatever…

an hour and a half later,, with what was left of her her three trick minimum under her belt,,, well actually in her bra,, she walked the final block to the roadside paradise inn… she was a frequent flier,, they would surely have a place for her to crash…

she settled into the hole in the middle of the no tell motel bed,, scrabble game for company,, tv on ,, no sound,, just picture,, lit a smoke,, took a long pull off her boons farm,, and cut a piece off her rock… finally… it felt good to sit down…

she laid out the game,, and picked her first seven letters… m-j-c-k-e-e-l… they sucked ,, she threw them back in the box,, and stared blankly at the tv screen as she shook them…

the devo headed news caster was talking a mile a minute,, and no sound was coming out his mouth… blah blah blah…

then she saw it… holy shit,,, that was jason!!! she grabbed the remote and mashed the mute button…

“….. was found today just off the highway in glen ellen,, the work crew from the hunter valley correctional facility was doing a routine roadside clean up when two trustee inmates, pictured here,, jason alexander and raul martinez…” she allowed his voice to trail off…

chapter two

2007-09-29T18:38:00.001-07:00

word count : 534

Jessica's hand trembled as she scooped slop onto the inmate's plate. He sneered back, his fat, grisly face fixed in a permanent scowl. He wasn't happy to be getting creamed corn again, and she wasn't thrilled to serve it to him. She nodded to send the animal moving along in line to get his chuck steak from the next worker.

The security guard at the left corridor entrance slipped a smile in her direction. Stan! His grin meant the deed was done.

Jessica's heart took off, zooming her to become another person in a world where nothing looked familiar. What had they done? They were criminals now, just like these filthy inmates she served every day.

First, screwing around with a co-worker was a bad idea. Then she'd gotten knocked up. Oh God! She was skinny so the baby didn't show until she got closer to the end. Then the little bulge began to fill out her uniform in front. She'd tried throwing on baggy sweaters, whatever it took, to hide the bump in her belly. But that couldn't hide the worried lines across her brow. What a mess! She needed this job, and she and Stan were bound to see each other every day at supper time for the inmate's evening meal. If the super found out about their affair, they'd both be fired.

Stan had been in denial. He wanted no parts of the baby, but it wasn't going to go away.

Eventually, he came to reality about it. They were making plans to get married when the accident happened. She slipped rushing to the pantry for their daily tryst. The fall slammed her to the floor, jarring her insides with a violent pounding. It triggered a miscarriage, with Stan finding her in a pool of her own blood, dazed but conscious. She remembered the pain as the baby pushed its way out without mercy. Her lip was still bleeding where she bit it to keep from screaming. Right there in the darkened pantry she gave birth to a tiny premature baby, stillborn.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" were the only words Stan could utter, all while sopping up fluids with an old towel one minute and staring at the dead fetus the next. He'd severed the afterbirth with a pocket knife.

"What will we do?" Jessica asked between gasps.

He returned her gaze with shrunken unenlightened eyes. Then he spied the cans of used grease. With shaking hands, he fumbled a lid off one and poured out a few inches of the slimy stuff. It made a sticky puddle on the floor.

Hot acrid fluid crept up Jessica's throat as she spied particles of yesterday's chicken suspended in the muck.

Stan grabbed up the innocent babe and eased it into the thick slime. The child disappeared into its murky dredges with a dollop as the grease swallowed it up to sink the baby to the bottom, displacing more of the used grease, sending it oozing down the sides of the can. He swiped it off with his sleeve and pushed the lid back on, hiding their shameful act.

Stan turned to her, tears running down his cheeks.

"Once the truck takes these cans away, we're home free," he said.

chapter one

2007-09-29T16:07:00.000-07:00

word count: 503

with just four months to go on his year and a day sentence... jason was psyched when the trustees had suggested him for the open position on the road crew... shit.. it was summer... he wanted to be outside....

he had no intention of running,, or getting in any trouble... he just wanted to breathe the clean, fresh, non institutionalized, air for more than an hour a day... he wanted to feel the sun on his back,, the breeze in his hair... he wanted to have the freedom to leave this place five days a week... even if it was only to board the county department of corrections bus.. and drive to whatever section of the highway they were scheduled to clean up that day....

other than being the tuesday after a holiday weekend,, which meant there would be a shit load more trash on the side of the road,, and they would have to work harder than usual to cover the same amount of ground,, today had begun just like any other day... talking shit with the guys... eating cold stale cereal.. picking up his sack lunch,, if you could call warm sweaty bologna stuck between two pieces of day old white bread,, and grainy apple lunch...

whatever... he only had three and a half more months of this... and then he was back on the street... back in the street was more like it... as he had really screwed up this time,, and had pretty much no home to go to when he got out....

jessa hadn't accepted a single one of his calls.. she hadn't written. put any money in his commissary... nothing.. for all he knew she had moved on,, found some other guy,, and was long gone by now...

just as that thought was evaporating into the rush of hot air coming off that westbound eighteen wheeler,, he spied every road crews dream... six white plastic five gallon buckets,, laying in the gully just before the fence... yes... that would mean,, he and another crew member would be able to grab the buckets, and carry them to the berm... and wait for the truck to come pick them up... sweet...hanging on the side of the highway, leisurely like,, takin' a sit down for a smoke... watchin' the pretty girls go by... oh yeah... this day was looking up....

"martinez,, check it out,, man,,, looks like we are gonna have to mule all these buckets up here and wait for the truck,, bummer.... " jason said in his sing songy best imitation of bill and teds great adventure voice... "dude..."

as martinez was walking toward him,, he caught a whiff of whatever was in the buckets,,, man... the fun was fast going out of this haul... as he righted the buckets one by one,, he noticed one of the lids wasn't all the way tamped down... something smelled funky,, he grabbed the lid, and yanked it the rest of the way off...

"what the fu... martinez!! get over here man,, theres a freakin' baby in this bucket!!!!!"