“I tell him it’s all too complicated and for just a moment, he looks at me the way he did when I confronted him in the basement when I first found the model. Oooh, boy, if the devil wears a face, that’s what it looks like. I shut up quick and he catches himself like he stepped past the caution signs and straightens up right away but it was there and I saw it. He smiles and tells me how hard he’s worked and how even if it’s a small job getting a drunk to slip on some icy steps, he wants it done right. He’s made a career out of getting it done right and I know better than to pop off again, so I button it and say however he wants to plug this guy is fine with me. I did not want to see that look again, I can assure you that.
“The night of the hit, everything is fine. I’m with Doug running lookout while he sets up the pieces of the trap in the alley. I haven’t seen him work like this and I can tell he’s excited about it, the way he’s moving around, a smile on his face, all hopped up like a football player before a big game, you know? Like a kid on Christmas Eve? He’s wearing a BWSC uniform-Boston Water and Sewer-and a fake beard and all that seemed unnecessary looking back but it made him happy so what the hell was I gonna say? He signals me when the trap is all set, and right on time, I hit the front door, just as the owner is cleaning up. Health Inspector is the best cover you can use with bars or restaurants because no one questions it-the manager or owner is mildly annoyed but always accommodating. This was no different and I got the mickey into the detective’s drink while the owner and he looked up at a fire exit with a faulty light I pointed out. No big deal. It’s amazing how many things people miss each day when they’re made to look in a certain direction, you know? Look at the birdie over there while I take the wallet from your back pocket here. People, for the most part, are suckers.
“The plan goes exactly the way Doug drew it up. I took the owner to his office while he told the cop to head out back. I watched out of the corner of my eye, you know, as our target got up and stumbled off. I counted to a hundred in my mind, all while I was talking about grease traps and proper temperatures on the refrigeration system and where the ‘wash your hands’ signs have to be displayed in the bathroom and I could see the owner’s eyes glaze over.
“Abruptly, I get to a hundred and I tell him everything looks good and he can count on a top notch report and can he let me out the front? Doug had told me the probabilities were he would follow me out since he liked to park his Dodge Charger right out in front of his bar. Sure enough, he comes with me outside and I watch from across the street as he climbs into the muscle car and drives away.”
“So where’s the complication?”
“There wasn’t one, is what I’m saying. Not on this job…”
“So…”
“So I go to meet Doug at the rendezvous spot which is three blocks away, this street corner near a motel and he’s got this smile big as summer on his face, you know? I’ll never forget it. He’s really happy. Says it went off without a hitch. Drunk detective stumbles down the stairs, the lever sweeps his feet, he cracks his skull, out cold. No way he won’t freeze to death. Doug even rigged it so some water would spill off the gutter above him, ensuring the detective would be found as frozen as a popsicle. No other way to rule this one but straight up accidental death.”
“What about the lever?”
“Doug fixed it with a string so he could slide it away. Everything planned to the last detail, like I said. This is how his mind worked.
“He told me all about the kill as we walked toward the car. I remember thinking I hadn’t seen him this happy since before we were married. And I was happy too, as weird as that sounds. I started seeing this life together, this future together. Me and Doug, a team. Other couples can sit on their asses watching the evening news while we’ll be out-I don’t know-changing the world. That’s something you do, you know? You imagine the work you’re doing is for the greater good although it’s probably just settling some small-time scores. Maybe we can make this work, I thought. Maybe this partnership is all we need to make it work between us, better than it ever was before. It seems silly now, but that’s what was going through my head.
All of a sudden, this black van roars around the corner and I get the uneasy feeling it’s coming up on us. You know that feeling? The kind that warms you up even though it’s cold as balls outside? Doug puts his arm around me all protective like and I remember thinking that was kind of a sweet touch, you know? He wasn’t much of an affectionate person, but he thought to put his arm on my shoulders and I thought that was nice.
“The van barrels up and skids to a stop and three sort of gangster looking guys get out, one black and two white and they call Doug by name. ‘You Spilatro?’ the biggest one says. Doug doesn’t answer, but I can hear his breathing stop and truth be told, I was scared to death. I hear another guy say, ‘yeah, he’s Spilatro,’ and I see this guy’s face as he steps into the light and he’s looking a little familiar, like maybe I know him from somewhere, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t Decker, his old army buddy, the one who brought him into the killing life. After Doug told me about him, I looked him up in some of Doug’s old army pictures, and this is the same guy, I’m sure of it. Doug realizes it at the same time as me and I can see him sigh heavily, like this is all just too much. The first guy, the muscle, raises his hand up and he’s holding a gun, some kind of big automatic. Don’t ask me what kind because I don’t know. The last thing Doug says is ‘don’t kill my wife,’ and crack, crack, the muscle shoots him twice in the chest. Blood flies on to me, I feel it hit the side of my face, and out of the corner of my eye I see Doug drop straight down. You know what I mean? Straight down like all his muscles shut down at once? Well, I just stood there like a jackass, you know, and the three guys pick up Doug’s body and throw it in the van. Decker turns and looks at me and I think maybe he’s deciding whether or not to drop me too, but he just gives me that hard stare men are so fond of, moves around to the driver’s side, and varoom, they’re gone. If this was retaliation for something Doug did, nobody said and I don’t know. The van drove off as though nothing ever happened and I stood there, I swear for an hour or two, not in shock but not thinking either, you know?”
Her voice falls quiet and she takes a sip of her coffee, not raising her eyes. She doesn’t have to blow on it this time.
I give her a moment to play it out, check to see if she’s going to say more, and I have to give her an ounce of respect. She doesn’t try to conjure up a tear or manage a sob.
I lean back and wait. Everything I do, every interaction hinges on the principle of dominance. Dominance can be physical, like cracking a man in the knee to drop him in front of you so he knows you’re better than he is. Or it can be mentaclass="underline" a game of wits, a look, a gesture, a word-anything to gain an advantage over an adversary. Sometimes dominance can simply mean waiting.
After a couple of silent minutes, she looks up, eyes dry. There’s resentment in her eyes, resentment for making her draw this out. Finally, when I have her broken, I speak up.
“You know he’s not dead.”
“You want me to say it?”
“Why pretend?”
She moves the coffee cup back and forth in front of her, grimacing. “He didn’t have to do it for me. He could’ve just walked.”
“Didn’t have to hire the guys, you mean.”
“Yeah. Plan the whole thing out. Tack it on to the end of the other job, you know?” She stops looking at me, at the inside of the diner, at anything. “It was actually… well, it was the sweetest thing he did for me the whole time we were married.”
I nod, but this is not good. Not good at all.
“Can I get out of here now? I’m done with this.”
She’s drained now, played out, bitter. If I squeeze her any more, she’ll pop.