There is no lesson worth learning more than to let go of your morals. Nothing keeps you away from success more than yourself and your inner demons. When I accepted Tony’s offer to come work for him, I thought I would constantly wrestle with my conscience over it, but I was wrong. After a week, I was stationed in a liquor store on McKenzie Street and money started flowing. All I had to do was to close my eyes on the guys dropping and picking up deliveries once or twice a day and I could keep 80% of the store’s income plus a 10% commission on the drugs. When I did the on the first Friday, there was eight thousand dollars in cash right in front of me. This was almost too comfortable.
My police dreams were fading away, but not my hunger to bring justice to those around me. Money made me lazier from the money it hit my pockets though, so I retracted into that make-believe stage where I say I’m doing a “strategic retreat”. Since day one I had been face first in the Glen Winchester case, pressure had been on my back and I never had a moment to stop and think about what I was doing. So I sat down. For two weeks I sat down and thought about the elements I had in hand. Meanwhile I fell out of the loop with the Greenwell family. I had no news of Trevor and Karen. Even the police department gave me some slack. This had for effect that I had slid under the radar, but whenever a major player of this case would feel like lashing back at me, I would be blindsided. The more I would sit on my ass, the more the case would slip away from me.
I got my bells rung on the second Friday, twenty minutes after closure. The week had once again been generous as I laid the twenty dollar bills in a fat pile on the accounting table. Someone disregarded the front door sign that said “Closed” and walked in the store. Chad, Cedric and the other people related to Tony had for word to take the back door to “Irish Malt Liquors”, so this person was in violation of my property. I took the .357 Magnum my new boss gave me and walked to the front store. I bumped into Pat for the first time since I joined the company. For two weeks, he stayed out of my sight and I came to dread the moment where he would come back. He sacrificed a lot for me when he joined Tony’s crew and the news of my arrival must have broken his heart. He kept out of sight in order to digest the fact, but I dreaded the moment of explanations.
His hair was wet and heavy from the rain. They stuck against his skull and covered a part of his stare, giving him a curious look. He didn’t look like he was up to a light hearted laughing out loud moment. Patrick was dead serious: “We need to talk” he said.
“Yeah”
I invited him to proceed behind the beads curtain that separated the storage from the front store.
“I don’t have a towel, but there is brown paper in the bathroom.”
“Oh thanks” Pat said, disappearing into the bathroom.
For a few uncomfortable minutes, I was alone again, juggling with the words I would use to justify my decision to him. Would I feed him on the plan I made to get back into the loop? Given the fact that I would have to choose one person to share my ideas with, Pat would probably be the guy. Mo would be good too, but the difference was that she would tell Pat and it would become a threesome. Pat wouldn’t tell anybody.
I decided to go and make some coffee to warm him up. I knew he liked the blend that I kept at the store so I made a pot just for him. He came out of the bathroom looking clean, almost slick, with his hair still wet, but tapped against his skull. He gave me a warm smile when he saw the coffee pot. He took a chair, twisted it on a 180 degrees angle and sat across.
“So, where you at now little brother?”
“Here Pat, here.”
“With the Winchester case I mean.”
“Same place I was since Tony put a halt to my career bro.”
Pat slapped the accounting table with both hands. The pile of twenty dollar bills spread across and a few tumbled to the floor.
“Mikey. You’re my brother and I love you. No matter what you chose to do with your life, I’m not equipped to give you advice on how to live it. But you have to do one thing for me, out of respect. Stop lying. I don’t deserve lies.”
“Pat, I’m not saying I’m giving up, I’m saying Tony placed me here, gave me these responsibilities, I haven’t had much time to make some research on my own.”
He nodded, looking at the floor.
“I did.”
“What?”
A grin exploded across his lips like a supernova. Then I understood, Pat tried to get things moving for me for the last two weeks, giving me a new head start.
“You heard me. I gotta say this is pretty damn interesting. I didn’t piece up all the clues, but I brought you a lot of stock to work with. Would you…mind if we work this case together?”
Pat’s proposition had the effect of a warm shower or neat bed sheets. Something comforting washed over me in the snap of a second. I jumped on him for a hug and said: “You bet brother, you bet, want a coffee?”
“Sure, let’s check this out and get all wired up.”
I poured us two cups of coffee while he pulled an envelope from the inner pocket of his suit. I didn’t realize, but he was carrying a huge yellow envelope around. Pat has always been the best to smuggle stuff. When we were kids, he was an expert shoplifter. He could hide just about anything. By the time he was sixteen he was shoplifting just to challenge himself. I saw him leave a 7-11 once with a beer in his belt buckle, magazines in his pant legs and two small bags of chips in each arms of his hooded sweat shirt. He walked out of there without making a sound, like a champ.
On the table were blow up pictures, receipts, photocopied archives files. Some of them I had seen already, but some of them were completely new. Pat didn’t take any vacation during these two weeks.
“Oh man Pat, you hit the jack pot. Aren’t you worried that Tony lashes back at you?”
“Fuck Tony, this is about family, this is about you, us. Ain’t no mobster is going to tear us apart bro. Ain’t no one. ”
“So what have you learned man?”
“A lot of things. You know there is a triangle. Winchester, Greenwell, Karen, right?”
“I’m not sure if you can separate Karen from the Greenwell family Pat. From what I’ve seen, she’s pretty hell bent on helping them framing Trevor for murder.”
“That’s where I can clarify things for you little brother. Karen is not who you think she is.”
I was intrigued, I had figured out already that she was hiding a lot from me, but Pat seemed to have investigated her more thoroughly than I did.
“Who is she then?”
“Her full name is Karen Tinsley Bowen.”
“She’s that pimp’s daughter???” I almost yelled.
“Almost, she’s her niece.”
“She’s the fucking niece of Carlton Bowen?”
“…yeah…”
“And I’ve never known about it?”
“Neither did I.”
I paused for a moment. I had met Karen’s parents in the past. Roy and Carmela. They looked pretty happy to me, but I know they were heavy drinkers. In social gatherings, one of them would inevitably pass out on a couch or visit the bathroom to throw up once in a while. I never thought much from this as they seemed like inoffensive alcoholics to me. Maybe they were hiding something darker.
“Pat, it doesn’t make any sense. Karen and her parents are goody-two-shoes. I can understand they have a demon-spawn pimp in the family, but what I can’t figure out is what angle would that play in the Winchester case?”
Pat pulled up his index, meaning he had a theory on the subject. Pat is one of the rare persons I know who doesn’t raise a finger to shut someone up. His index has the same use than exclamation points.
“I asked myself that question too. What I found out made me wish I didn’t even searched at all. Karen is wearing her mother’s name. Carlton Bowen is her father’s brother. Carmela Tinsley was and still is in love with Carlton. She divorced Roy Bowen in a very ugly manner two years ago.”
Karen was emulating her mother? I thought she was cuckoo, but that might just have been the confirmation.
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