Here’s a clue yah dumb Shamus……..clowns to the right……………..
Xxxxxxxxxx
…………………………Two much.
My stomach lurched. I asked
‘You call the cops?’
‘NOTHING SCARIER THAN
A CLOWN
AFTER DARK.’
‘They blew me off.’
I asked
‘What’s with the two?’
Merrick rubbed his neck, trying to work out the ache there, said
‘Just him fucking with us, let us think he has an ally, maybe.’
I was spooked, Jesus, big time. But I reined it in, asked
‘So, we going to take a look?’
He was twisting the empty Bud like he could tear it’s head off, said
‘This is heavy shit now Tommy, won’t reflect on you or our friendship if you buck.’
I stood up, said
‘Let’s roll.’
Merrick had a beautiful 59 Camaro. Restored it lovingly his own self and added a supped
motor to the horsepower already under the hood.
We took off from the stadium like some meth bats outa meatloaf’s hell. Going over the
Jersey Turnpike, Merrick asked
‘You carrying?’
‘Just attitude.’
He nodded at the glove compartment, and I flipped it, A Glock 9 and a Browning Auto.
He said
‘Prime em.’
I did.
As we hit Manhattan, he asked
‘Why’d you leave the cops?’
Cut to the chase, said
‘I was on the take.’
He nodded, no judgment. Then,
‘You ever shoot anyone?’
Oh shite.
Tell the truth or string him along. I went with the truth
‘I used to be with the Boyos, back when Bloody Sunday happened.’
He nodded, no need for any more.
My turn, asked
‘You?’
‘On the job, shot a person of interest.’
‘Was he, of interest?’
He sighed, deep and yearning
‘To his family, to us, he was the wrong guy.’
We were at the Brownstone so I was saved any dumb comment. Merrick put the Glock in
his waistband, I put the Browning in the pocket of my Yankee’s jacket.
Asked
‘How do you want to play this?’
He nearly smiled, said
‘Careful.’
The building was boarded up, Merrick pulled the boards off, and we went in. Smell of
urine and curry, stale nicotine.
Swept the ground floor, Merrick whispered
‘Clear, going up.
I followed and at the base of the second floor, a figure came out of the shadows, laid
Merrick flat with a baseball bat.
Turned to me, said
‘I got three hundred bucks to do that, you want some of this ass-wipe.?’
I backed off, something in his tone, saying he was too lippy to be alone and a second
figure came rushing out of the darkness with a knife. I shot him in the balls. I was aiming
for his knee, I think. The first guy, shrieked
‘The fuck is with you man, why’d you have to go and do that/’
I shot him in the shoulder.
He was about to start screaming so I kicked him in the head and he shut the
fook up.
The dead child was on the third floor.
Spread-eagled, blood all over and a note pinned to his school blazer, reading
‘How sweet it is.’
………………………….GACY BY TWO.
I admit I lost it, went back down to the second floor, shot the first bollix in the face, then
hauled the second to his feet, said
‘See that piece of shite, you’re next, now tell me who hired you?’
Merrick had come around, grabbed me by the waist, soothed
‘Jesus, easy cowboy, ok?’
Gently took the Browning from my bloodied fingers, the blood from the child. Merrick
said
‘You got to go with the flow Irish, keep a lid on it.’
I said, keeping a lid on it,
‘;Have a look on the next floor.’
He tapped my face, added
‘You have a temper, need to chill, know what I’m saying?’
I repeated
‘Go to the third floor.’
He looked at the guy at my feet, said
‘Hang in there pal, my running buddy is a hot head, I’ll be right back and we’ll talk.’
The second guy sneered at me, said
‘You’re the hired help, that it, you Irish bogtrotter.’
I let it slide, knowing the third floor would be all the reply I needed.
Heard an anguished wail, like all the children in hell were chanting then rapid footsteps
and Merrick was pushing past me, leveled the Glock at the guy, emptied the mag in his
chest.
Guess Merrick hadn’t chilled.
GHOSTS MUST DO AGAIN.
In a diner on the lower East Side, a large man, pushed away his bacon and egg’s over
easy plate. Damn phone call had totaled his appetite. Even the coffee got a sour taste
He muttered
‘Fucking psycho scumbag, Jesus, H, he had to leave a note?’
He knew, sooner or later he’d have to cut the whack job loose but the money, ahh, how
sweet it was. He’d been eyeing a place down in Boca, shitload of money but with this
earner, he’d been getting real close to putting a sizable down payment on it. Get out of
the sewer of the city. So, he pointed him in the direction of some kids, c’mon, they were
dead already, with crack Mom’s deadbeat father’s. They were on a fast rail to nowhere
any way. He was really just putting them out of their misery. And the psycho treated
them good, right, before………..he did……….whatever he did.
He didn’t really try to square it, to rationalize it, it was…………….what it was. Shit
happens. And if he could turn a buck outa it, who the fuck gave a big one?
The nutter, posing at being infamous serial killers, the fuck was with that? Had told him
‘Drop that shit, you’re gonna get attention and we
don’t…………….want……….attention. The guy whining
‘I wanna play.’
Leaving a twenty on the table, he figured, on second thought
‘It would be a goddamn pleasure to put two in the jerk off’s head but not yet, needed just
one more serious payment.
‘THIS IS BLOOD. THE ROOM IS HUGE AND THERE’S ROOM FOR PLENTY OF
HEALTHY CHILDREN.
TOM PICCIRILLI
‘A CHOIR OF ILL CHILDREN.’
We got out of there fast. Merrick pausing at a phone, called 911, told them the location.
Back in The Camano and we driving in silence towards East 45th. I didn’t ask.
Merrick
pulled into a vacant spot, said
‘Let’s get shit faced.’
No argument there. A small bar nestling amid the flash hotels, we went in, dark lighting,
nicotine in the air. I looked at Merrick, he said
‘A cop owns it.’
We got a booth in the back, they had an actual juke box, playing ‘Take a Walk On the
Wild Side’.
Burly guy approached, exclaimed
‘Merrick, you son of a bitch, what brings you to town?’
Merrick smiled, no humor though, said
‘Showing my Irish buddy the dives of the city.’
The guy laughed, showing a wonderful display of teeth, and they’d have been more
dazzling if they’d been his own, he pushed out a huge hand, said
‘Charlie, my mother was from the county Mayo.’
I said
‘Tommy and mayo are shite hurlers.’