What was bound to happen finally did, Karen disappeared. I didn’t anticipate the way it happened though. Not at all. I thought she’d vanish into thin air, caught by someone who thought she’d be the best way of reaching out to me. At worse, she’d run away, scared that the stakes of the situation were getting higher and higher, that some lives would’ve been endangered. That would’ve made the most sense. Karen’s Achilles heel was her poor threshold of resistance to pressure. Discomfort was her worse enemy. One week after we met in Mo’s kitchen to discourse about the police repression I was going under, Karen lifted off. So we called another family meeting. Same time, same place. We didn’t do enough of those anyway.
What we got from her instead (what Mona got, on a Tuesday morning) was this cryptic note that was loosely tied to that discussion with Tripp I spied on in the parking of “Far Beyond”. The note read like this:
Mo,
When you’ll find this note, I’ll be far from Seattle. I want to thank you for being the long lost sister I needed for the last few weeks. Hanging out with you, raiding the boutiques and having these conference lunches every day was the closest I got to happiness since so long. Please, don’t try to look for me; I’m safe, sound and happy where I am.
I’m sorry about how this all turned out, but believe me, the best thing I could do was to vanish. You’ll be doing well without me, I have confidence. I have lived some unforgettable moments with you.
Thanks,
K.
P.S. Tell your brother about what we’ve discussed last week at “Far Beyond”.
“We have to find her” said Mona, clenching her fingers on the edges of the paper sheet.
“What was it that you talked about?” asked John.
“It’s between her and Mike”.
“Cut the bullshit Mona” said Pat, visibly angry. “That stupid bitch put all of us in danger with that investigation she charged Mike of. We’re all fucking concerned now, don’t be an idiot.”
Pat and John were the only two people in the world that could afford to be unassuming of Mona’s explosive character. The main reason for that was that they were rarely wrong. The level of survival instinct they needed to have to keep this family together forced them to keep their logic lean and proactive. They had no sense of personal profit when family was at stake. Stepping on Tony’s toes and angering him wasn’t a smart way to earn a living so the Karen investigation needed to be addressed and solved as quickly as possible.
“She’s still in love with Mike”, said Mona with an instinct voice.
“Mo, don’t feel bad about saying it, Pat’s right we’re all on the spot right now.” I said.
“Mike do you believe her?” Pat asked me.
“Karen?”
“No, Queen fucking Victoria. Yes, Karen.”
“You mean, if she loves me or not?”
“Jesus Mike, you’re getting thick in between the ears” said John, who was sitting at the dining table, eating some leftovers from Mona’s fridge.
“I mean…I’m not sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let me rephrase that” said Pat “do YOU love her?”
“What? Hem…”
Mona was looking at me like a panther about to dash on her prey. In this type of situation, I usually lied in order to keep her in line, but now was not the time. Pat and John were there, so I felt secure she would pop my eyeballs out and we needed to figure something out in regards to Tony.
“No, I mean, I’m still very attracted towards her, I thought we could patch things up but not now.”
“You motherfucker, she came begging for your help, what more did it take you Mr. Macho Man? That she would’ve been in a bra and thong?”
“Relax Mo” said Pat, not even looking at her “Mike didn’t tell us everything. Wait for him to empty his bag before freaking out.”
Pat knew me better than anyone else. I told them everything I knew. About Trevor Greenwell, about Karen, about the power family from Portland, the old Reed and the meeting Karen had with Tripp in the parking lot. They all sat and listened carefully. My family has its defaults but they are not loose cannons. They have judgment, they know when something is important. We established then a course of action that I would follow, whether I wanted it or not.
I wouldn’t work for Karen or for Trevor anymore. Karen was gone. “Good for her” John said. Her behavior was erratic and in this situation she was judged unreliable. Much to the dismay of Mona. Pat astutely established that the only certitude we had about Karen was that she lied to everybody, therefore granting her of our trust was stupid. Even Mo, no matter how heartbroken she was, couldn’t disagree.
I would work for Tony. More than life-saving, that move would procure me a secure angle on the situation. No one would know that I work for him and if somebody found out, I was backed up by the biggest mobster from Vancouver to L.A. I couldn’t say I was eager to do this, but Pat’s logic couldn’t be discussed. Even John was just nodding in approval, his mouth full of pot-pie. This was survival logic. Or I worked for Tony, or I gambled with my chances of getting shot in the face during my sleep.
No one had anything to argue about so the end of Pat’s explanation left Mo’s kitchen bathing in the mother of all the uncomfortable silences.
“So?” said Pat, looking like he expected an answer out of me.
“So what, you’re right.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“So what do you want me to say?” I asked, trying to escape his insistent blue steel stare.
“Don’t give Pat attitude” said John.
“I’m not, I’ll do whatever you guys think it right. I always did.”
I was growing restless. I was going to comply to whatever they told me to do, but there was no need to rub my nose in the fact that they were saving my ass again. Tony was right. A man like him didn’t lie. He didn’t need to. He could just shoot you and make your body disappear in the Pacific Ocean if you caused him any trouble. My brothers and him orchestrated my success at Seattle Police Academy, but I spoiled it when I freaked out during the psychological tests. I felt like all this time, I was a kid playing in my sandbox. Pat and John were substitute parents that would look down on me, making sure I wouldn’t do anything stupid.
I regained my apartment pouting my failure, wondering how much of a fuck up I really was. Before I left, Pat told me that whatever I was asked to do, just to do it without asking any questions. That was not my style, but he told me that Tony was going to use me to see clearer in the situation. I wanted to be a member of law enforcement for so long, now I was technically a mobster. Real life can be such a sucker puncher. When you’re in school, you’re a dreamer. Every police student wants to be Ray Serpico, Glen Winchester or Jim fucking Gordon. But not all of them are cut out to be. There is not a Gotham City for everyone and there is not enough nemesis in the world to make everybody important.
I felt stupid, useless and anonymous. I got home, flung my shoes in a corner of the kitchen and went crashing face first in my bed. I pondered for a moment if I should go to sleep right away, take a shower and watch TV or go drink. I turned around to check what time it was and realized I had an outstanding message on my phone. I yanked it from the base and dialed in my voice mail. There was no identity to this caller, just a phone number starting by 709. Common police knowledge was that every phone booth number in Seattle started with 709. I didn’t even listened to the message and I knew it came from one of Tony’s man.
“Listen, there is an underground party downtown tonight. It’s at the Mandingo, on the second floor. Tony wants you to be there. Right there at the bar, a man wearing a Shamrock necktie will be waiting for you. His name is Will. Will has a list for you of eight people that will be present tonight. These guys owe money to him, big time. You will go with him and intimidate these guys. Beat them up, don’t break any bones, but make sure they pay. Most of them won’t, but if you get one of them to pay, Tony will be happy.”
I thought I aspired to be the best cop on the West Coast, truth was, I was just a bottom feeding hoodlum.
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