ache in his guts.
Half of the cars and trucks in the motel’s parking lot were keeping Bondo in business, and the other half had problems that even Bondo couldn’t fix. He tried to figure out what these people were even doing here. Were they, like him, rootless persons, drifting men? The old woman in the office wore her glasses on a gold chain, and the fats in her body made liquid noises as she walked. She had tiny feet. Dempsey couldn’t understand how she managed to remain upright. She confirmed that she was happy to take cash for two rooms, on the grounds that ‘there weren’t never nothing worth stealing in them anyway,’ and therefore guarantees of credit were largely unnecessary. There was coffee available in the mornings from seven until nine, she told them, but Dempsey took one look at the stained pot, the dusty foam cups, the sachets of powdered creamer, and decided that he could wait until they found somewhere more appealing for a kick-start. Tommy paid for two nights, and told the woman that they might stay longer, ‘depending on how good the hunting is.’
‘We ain’t never full,’ she said. ‘We always got room.’
Dempsey took another look at the peeling paint in the reception area, at the snow-screened portable TV playing an inexplicably popular sitcom aimed at people who thought that a grown man living with his mother was the height of humor, at the sign warning that checkout time was ten a.m. (‘AND NO EXSEPTIONS!’), at the woman’s painted expression and barrel-like form, as though she were a living matryoshka doll capable of containing infinitely smaller but no less unwelcoming versions of herself, and decided not to comment on the motel’s apparently infinite capacity to absorb new guests.
There was music coming from a bar next door to the motel, and Dempsey asked if there was any chance of getting food there. The woman snorted.
‘They got pickles,’ she said, ‘but I wouldn’t go eatin’ ’em.’
Dempsey said that he’d pass. There was a sheaf of fast-food menus at the desk, so he grabbed a couple and brought them with him to the room that he and Ryan would share on the first floor, while Tommy took the adjoining room for himself.
‘I talk to you for a minute, Tommy?’ said Dempsey, as he allowed Ryan to enter the room ahead of him. Tommy nodded. He lit a cigarette and Dempsey indicated that they should walk a little farther into the lot, away from the main building. There were no stars in the sky, and Dempsey could feel the weight of the clouds, the sky itself pressing down on them. He had never felt more constricted, more hemmed in by forces both human and elemental.
Tommy had not informed them of what he planned to do before they picked him up in Newburyport, but Dempsey had guessed as soon as he told them to head north. They had passed most of the trip in silence, with not even the radio to distract them from their thoughts, Ryan in the passenger seat, Tommy stretched out in the back, sometimes dozing but mostly just staring into space. Now they were here, within striking distance of Pastor’s Bay.
‘You didn’t want to talk in front of Francis?’ said Tommy. Dempsey could smell stale sweat on Tommy, and there were stains on his pants. Tommy had always been an elegant man. Even at the worst of times, he kept himself neat and clean. The stale odor of him, his wrinkled clothes and unshaved face, troubled Dempsey more than what Tommy had done to Joey, and the aborted action he had ordered against Oweny’s crew.
‘No,’ said Dempsey. ‘I thought it should just be us two.’
‘You let him sit in on the meet with Joey Tuna?’
‘No.’
‘Anyone would think you didn’t trust him. Is there something you’d like to share with me?’
Again, Dempsey wished that he still smoked. It was becoming a kind of mantra. He felt that he had nothing to do with his hands, nothing to occupy them. He pushed them hard into his pockets for fear they would betray him, their movements revealing his barely restrained fear.
‘I got a lot of things on my mind,’ said Dempsey. ‘I don’t know where to start.’
‘Take your time. We got all night. I haven’t been sleeping so good, and I’m afraid to start popping pills.’
Tommy took a long drag on the cigarette and examined the glowing tip. It seemed to hypnotize him. He stared at it, unblinking, the other man forgotten, his face gray with stress and exhaustion. Dempsey wondered just how long it had been since Tommy Morris enjoyed an undisturbed night’s sleep. Uneasy lies the head, and all that. The only head that rested less easily was the one that would soon be detached from its body.
‘How did it come to this, Tommy?’ he said.
‘Huh?’ Tommy emerged from his daze. ‘Come to what?’
‘Us, here, living out of money taken from a shoebox. You ever thought about how it all fell apart so fast?’
‘Yeah, I thought about it.’
‘You come up with any answers?’
‘More questions. No answers. You?’
Dempsey chose his words carefully.
‘After the meet with Joey, I started thinking that maybe all of them had it in for you from the start, and not just Oweny. I mean, how long had Joey been stringing us along, claiming to be the middleman when he was secretly on Oweny’s side? And if Joey was whispering in Oweny’s ear he was doing it because it had been sanctioned from above, and he hadn’t just started last week, or last month. People had agreed on it. We started figuring we were unlucky, but the more I look at it the more I think that someone was talking out of turn.’
‘To the cops? The feds?’
‘Doesn’t have to be them. All this person needed to do was pass the word to Joey. We trusted him. We thought he was neutral. But he wasn’t. He never had been, not really. Joey could have used the information as he saw fit: an anonymous tip-off to the cops, a word to Oweny. Look at it: horses that were supposed to fall didn’t fall like they should have, and Joey laughed it off and told us that these things happen, that everybody took a hit on that one. Our couriers and dealers get picked up, and Joey tells us that the feds had a snitch in Florida, and he was looking to figure out who it was, and we weren’t the only ones who were concerned. We get a tip on a bond warehouse, and when we hit it there’s only a tenth of what we were told was there, and the cops are crawling all over us before we even get the truck out the gate. Joey told us that it was lousy information, that the Contadinos nearly lost a crew the same way, but I ask around and there’s no talk about the Contadinos pulling a warehouse job that went south. And we get cut out of deals that should have been shared: pads on construction, on concessions. Jobs are pulled, and we only find out about them after the fact. I look back on it now and it was an accumulation of small details, like we were being picked at, like we were slowly being eaten alive. Everyone else was making money, but not us.’
Tommy listened to all that he had to say, punctuating it with pulls on the cigarette. His right middle and index fingers were the burnt orange of a polluted sunset.
‘So who was the snitch?’
Dempsey shrugged. ‘I’m just saying. I could be wrong.’
‘You think it was Francis?’
Dempsey shook his head forcefully. ‘No, he’s a good kid. He’s just young, that’s all. And, you know, so many guys have drifted away. It could have been any of them or, you know, it could have been Joey himself, working to undermine you so that Oweny could take your place.’
‘If there even was a snitch.’
‘If there was,’ agreed Dempsey.
‘So, what else?’
‘Joey. I have to tell you, Tommy, I wasn’t expecting it. I never thought you’d go after him.’
‘It had to be done.’
‘Did it?’
‘I had to know for sure. I had to know that they didn’t have her.’
But that wasn’t why you killed him, thought Dempsey. That was why you went to see him, but not why you put him down. I always suspected that you hated him. I just never knew how much. Tommy had told him once that it was Joey who wanted Ronald Doheny dead. Tommy had argued for sparing him, because even if he was a braggart and a fool and a promiscuous little bastard who should have kept his hands to himself, he was still the father of his sister’s child. Joey wouldn’t hear of it, though. He wanted Doheny gone, and he wasn’t the only one. If Tommy wasn’t prepared to do it, then someone else would, but it would look bad for Tommy, and maybe people, important people, would start doubting his commitment to the cause. They might even wonder if Tommy, like Whitey before
