realized someone had just busted a pool stick off my head.
I turned around, and the guy there looked awfully familiar. Someone, some time, had broken that nose of his good and proper. I tasted blood in my mouth, coming from somewhere up high on my head.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Did I ever fuck your sister?”
His two friends grabbed me from all sides and dragged me outside.
“Was it something I said?”
They went to work on me out in the parking lot, all of them. Bounced me off so many cars, I knew what flies felt like on country roads. They even incorporated a belt and a tire iron into the beating.
“You like that?” one of them shouted as he jammed his boot into my stomach.
“I like it like your mother likes it,” I grunted. “Do your fucking worst, faggot.”
The next thing I knew, I was handcuffed to a metal rod running along a gray cement wall. I was lying on a wood bench. A bright light burned overhead, and two of the guys that had vandalized my ass were cuffed to another rod on the wall to my right. They were immaculate. All I could see of myself were my hands, which looked like they had been run over by a pair of dirt bikes.
It had been a long time since I was behind bars. It didn’t bother me, being behind bars, but it bothered me that it had to happen in Evelyn, and not some other hick place that I could pass a fake name off in.
I looked at the two men and said, “Hey, I know where I know you guys from. You’re Moe and Curly. Where’s Larry?”
“He runs like a jackrabbit,” said Curly.
“How you boys feeling?”
“Fuck you,” said Moe. The other spat at me.
“That’s not very civil.”
“You broke my nose a few years ago,” said Moe. “The dang thing never healed right, man. I’ve been waiting years to get my hands on you, and by the grace of God that time finally came.”
I laughed, though it made my head hurt some.
A uniformed cop came to the bars and banged his nightstick against them. Behind him stood Van Buren in a suit with his detective’s shield pinned to a black holder fastened to his belt. The suit was no work of Italian finery, but cost a hell of a lot more than the brown layer of shit I’d worn to his partner’s funeral.
His shoes were shined and creaseless. New. He was wearing a wedding ring, and a gold watch was apparent at his wrist. He had close-cropped hair and was a little younger than me. Instead of a cop, he looked like a tax collector. He didn’t have the kind of face that made you feel either scared or comfortable. In fact, it made you feel like taking a wild swing at it just to get it out of sight.
The uniform opened the cell door, and the suit stepped in behind him with his hands in his pockets as if he were the coolest, most dangerous guy in the world.
“Get up,” said the uniform to the two other men.
They stood, and were forced to lean forward since they were cuffed to the wall.
Their cuffs were removed. The uniform then removed the cuffs from the rail and put them in his back pocket.
“Get out of here,” said the uniform. “Get your shit at the desk.”
They began to walk past the detective.
“Hey,” I said, “those pricks assaulted me. You’re letting them
go?”
“You gonna press charges?” asked the uniform. “You bet.”
“Too bad,” he replied.
I looked at Van Buren. His eyes smiled.
The two little fighters left the cell and disappeared down the hallway. The uniform turned to Van Buren and asked, “You need me here?”
“Of course not,” he replied in a calm voice. “We’re just going to talk. Isn’t that right, Mr. Higgins?”
“Sure,” I said.
The uniform left, and then it was just the detective and me. He came over and sat next to me on the bench, but not before methodically adjusting his pants around his thighs. “That’s quite a shiner,” he said, pointing at my face.
“I wouldn’t know,” I said.
“Are you in any pain?”
“Am I in any pain? Yes I am. I think I have a boo-boo or two.”
I laughed. He did not.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
“Can’t say that I do,” I said, “unless it’s become a crime in this country to get the shit kicked out of you.”
“No, it’s not a crime to be beaten, Mr. Higgins.”
“What’s with this ‘Mr. Higgins’ shit? You know my name. Use
it.”
“You are Mr. Higgins,” he replied. “That’s what I’ll call you. In return, you will call me Mr. Van Buren.”
The man never liked me since the first day we met at the supermarket.
There was this beautiful woman in the produce section, feeling up the pineapples, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She smiled at me. Then her husband got pissed off. That was Van Buren. I was never forgiven for that.
“Mr. Higgins, it is not a crime to be beaten, but this matter is not as simple as that. As you see, the two men who attacked you have been released. Everyone who was at the scene of your latest incident has stated that you were the one who instigated this fight, and it would seem like the only difference between this incident and those in your past is that you didn’t get your little fists up in time.”
“Are you trying to be cute with me?”
“No.”
“Can I have a cigarette?”
“No.”
“Instigating something is different from busting a stick off someone’s head, cop.”
“Maybe, but this is my investigation …”
“What investigation?”
“Quiet. It is
“Semantics? What happened to my face is semantics?”
“It would seem.”
“I don’t think I like you.”
“And Evelyn doesn’t seem to like you, Mr. Higgins. You see, some people around here seem to have some memory lapses, but I know you, and I know what you’re capable of, and I know how violent you can be when you drink.”
“I didn’t drink.”
“Says you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Didn’t you?” I didn’t say anything. “That’s what I thought. But I’ll be merciful tonight, Mr. Higgins. I’m going to let you go.”
“Well, in that case, you can go fuck yourself.” He laughed. “No, I won’t be doing that tonight.”
“Why, your wife ain’t gonna touch you.”
His eyes grew red with fire. He put his finger in my face and said, “You watch your mouth with me, you dirtbag.”
I lunged and bit his finger, to which he yelped and quickly drew away.
With the other hand, he slammed a fist into my jaw. I winced, and he grabbed a fistful of my hair. “You bastard,” he said.
