chapter forty seven

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

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

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

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

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

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

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....."