“All right,” he said, “it’s the third brick one down there on the left.”
“The one with the yellow Chev,” Barry said.
“The next one,” Steve said.
“No driveway,” Barry said.
“Right,” Steve said. “Cheap bastard parks on the street.”
At nine minutes past midnight the Cadillac moved slowly by the LTD. Steve and Barry eased down on the seats.
At twenty minutes past twelve the Cadillac moved slowly past the LTD. Steve said: “If he comes by once more I’m gonna move and give him this place.”
At twelve thirty-five, Trattman walked up Sheridan Street, approaching the LTD from the rear, on the same side of the street. When he got to the rear bumper of the LTD, Steve said: “Now.”
Barry and Steve got out of the LTD. Barry said: “Right there.”
Trattman stopped. He frowned. He said: “You guys, you guys …”
Steve pointed a thirty-eight Chiefs Special, two-inch barrel, at Trattman. He said: “Get inna car, Markie.”
Trattman said: “You, I haven’t got no money on me, you guys. I don’t, you guys, I haven’t got no money or anything.”
Barry said: “Get inna fuckin’ car, Markie.” He walked up to Trattman and took him by the right elbow. Trattman resisted slightly. “The car,” Barry said, “you got to get inna fuckin’ car, Markie. You’re gonna get inna car and you know you’re gonna get inna car, so get inna car, for Christ sake.”
Trattman walked slowly toward the car. He looked toward Steve. Steve held the revolver steady. Trattman said: “Steve, you guys, I didn’t do nothing.”
Steve said: “Barry, put him inna back and get in with him.”
Barry pushed Trattman slightly. Trattman said: “I mean it. I didn’t do anything.”
Barry said: “Markie, we’re gonna have all kinds of time to talk about things. Just get inna car, all right?”
Trattman bent and entered the car. He got into the back. Steve slid in on the driver’s side and shut the door. He turned in the seat and pointed the revolver at Trattman. Barry got in and managed to close the passenger door from the back seat. Steve handed the revolver to Barry. Trattman said: “Why’re you guys doing this?”
Steve started the LTD.
“I could, I could do something, you know,” Trattman said. “You guys’re gonna do something to me, I know some guys and I know the right, I know where to call. You guys oughta think about that.”
“You maybe already did something,” Barry said. “Maybe that’s why you’re here, because you did something.”
“I didn’t do nothing,” Trattman said.
“Well,” Steve said. “Then, you’re all right, Markie.”
“You got nothing to worry about,” Barry said.
Steve turned the LTD right on Commonwealth Avenue. He turned left off Commonwealth Avenue onto Chestnut Hill Drive. He took the left fork onto St. Thomas More Drive and the right turn onto Beacon Street.
Trattman said: “You guys know me. Why’re you guys doing something like this? I thought, you’re doing all right, Steve, for Christ sake. Why’re you doing this?”
“A guy, some guys asked me to talk to you,” Steve said. “I said I’d talk to you. You know, Markie, talk? Didn’t you used to have me and Barry around in case you wanted us to talk to somebody?”
“Sure,” Trattman said. “That’s why I can’t understand this, why you guys’re doing this to me.”
“Because,” Steve said, “for the same reason, we used to do things when you wanted us to. Only this time, we’re doing it for somebody else.”
Steve took the left at Hammond Street and turned right off Hammond into the parking lot behind the Chestnut Hill shopping center on Route 9. He stopped the LTD in the shadows behind R. H. Steams’.
Steve got out of the car and unlatched the seatback on the driver’s side.
Trattman looked at Barry. Barry pointed the revolver at him. “Get outa the car, Markie,” he said.
Trattman said: “Please, you guys, lemme talk this over, all right?”
Steve said: “Now, Markie.”
Trattman said: “I didn’t do nothing.”
Barry moved the revolver closer to Trattman’s face. “Markie,” he said. “There’s things worse’n talking, you know? Right now all we’re supposed to do is talk to you, and that’s really all we wanna do. You’re liable to get everybody all pissed off, you keep acting like this.”
Trattman hesitated. Steve reached into the car and grabbed the left shoulder of Trattman’s coat. He pulled. Trattman’s upper torso shifted in Steve’s direction. Steve said: “Markie, you really got to cut this out, all right? You know what can happen to a guy that doesn’t wanna do what people tell him. Now don’t give us a lot of shit, okay? We’re just a couple of guys that’ve got to talk to you and we’re gonna talk to you and you’re gonna talk to us, and that’s all there is to it. Unless you don’t wanna talk or something. Then it’s different, you know? You know how things are. Now come outa the fuckin’ car before I start to get mad.”
Trattman pulled himself forward and got out of the LTD. Barry got out quickly behind him. Barry handed the revolver to Steve.
Trattman stood next to the car, his arms and hands close to his sides. He faced Steve. “I didn’t do anything, you guys. I dunno what this’s all about, and if I did something then I would, wouldn’t I? And I really don’t. You guys, you guys’ve gotta believe me.”
“Move around the backa the car, Markie,” Steve said.
Trattman raised his hands slightly, palms up.
“Move, Markie, you fuckin’ little prick,” Steve said. “You tryin’ to make me shoot you, for Christ sake?”
Trattman moved sideways to the left rear panel of the LTD. He stood with his arms tight against his sides. Steve stood three feet away from him, pointing the revolver. Barry walked around behind Steve and stood at his right.
“Honest to God,” Trattman said, “Steve, may my mother get cancer, I had nothing to do with it. Honest to God, Steve. You, can’t you tell them that? I know how it looks. I know. But honest to God, Steve, I didn’t.”
“He didn’t do it,” Barry said. “That what you were gonna ask him, Steve?”
“Yeah,” Steve said.
“That’s what we’re supposed to talk to you about, Markie,” Barry said.
“Yeah,” Steve said, “this thing, you didn’t have nothing to do with it?”
“Steve,” Trattman said.
“What thing was that, Markie?” Steve said.
“Steve,” Trattman said. His voice broke. “Steve, did I ever lie to you? I never told you anything, did I?”
“Now?” Barry said.
“Uh huh,” Steve said.
Barry took two strides toward Trattman, closing his right hand and swinging the fist back in the motion of a softball pitcher. Trattman jerked his hands up toward his face. Barry swung his fist forward and punched Trattman in the groin as Trattman’s torso began to move backward over the trunk of the LTD. When the fist connected, Trattman’s torso stopped and began to move forward quickly. His hands dropped from his face. His mouth gaped. His eyes stared. He exhaled and moaned simultaneously. He clapped his hands to his groin. He doubled over.
Barry took a short stride backward. He stepped forward on his left foot and brought his right knee up fast. It caught Trattman on the mouth. There was a cracking sound. Trattman’s head snapped up. His body, still in a crouch, sagged off to the left.
Barry grabbed the lapels of Trattman’s coat and pulled him up. He leaned Trattman against the car. Trattman kept his head down. He cried. He spit blood and pink material from his mouth. He raised his head. He had closed his eyes. His nose and mouth were pulpy and covered with blood. Some blood and pink material were on his coat.
“What’s this thing you didn’t have nothing to do with, Markie?” Steve said.
Trattman moved his head once to the left and once to the right. He extended his tongue, then retracted it, tracing the tip of it along his lips. He lowered his head and spat blood and pink material on the pavement of the parking lot.