8.
 Mick felt bleak for some reason as he walked alone toward the diner down the street. The sun was close to setting. There was an industrial, grimy pink light that settled on everything, made everything wan. Took the music out of children's yelling. Made men and women seem plain and drab. Here he was, having this sexual affair with Lisa, who was a cipher but such a woman; and he was artistically in love or in lust or whatever insane thing with this other cipher, Monica. He'd made the sale of his life and he felt anxiety about making the next one, but that wasn't it, it was the tugging in his heart, this way and that, that made him feel so bleak.
He heard a car horn and looked over to see a big, square car rolling along side of him. Thin shadowy man driving. Beefy man in his fifties, gray hair, suit, gray silk tie, took off a pair of prescription sunglasses and said: "Your name Thompson?" The men stayed in their car.
Mick nodded. He was puzzled. He waited while the car rolled up to the curb. The man had a mean face, full of wrinkles and little blebs. He had little gray teeth with smoky cracks in them, and the tops where all brown with rot. He had hard, fat hands, but the black holder that flipped open revealing a worn brass badge with blue lettering interested Mick more. "Sergeant Zydak, police department. You Michael Thompson?"
"Yes."
"You seen your brother Ben around?"
"Not the last few days."
"Yeah, well I'm not surprised because he's sitting in jail. You don't look like you hang around jails, do you?"
"No, but—?"
"Your brother Ben is a f— ." He paused, a look of contempt in his eyes. Mick cringed. Zydak continued: "—a fairly interesting chap. An interesting chap indeed. Do you know that he has a sheet as long as my arm?"
"I know he had some troubles in the past, but—."
"We had several complaints about him beating up his wife, throwing her down some stairs, threatening to kill her. Is this the Ben you know?"
"No, I'm afraid not."
Zydak smiled coldly. "I must have a vivid imagination. Well, I'm not imagining that he beat a man up in a bar. Claimed the guy owed him money. Almost killed the guy, although he's recovering from a fractured skull. Hit his head on the bar going down. True to form, the judge is just now letting Ben go free on bail until his trial for attempted murder."
"My brother works for a living. Gets up every day."
"I know this, son. He's a hard working stiff. I checked that out, and sure enough, he's on the level there. Only problem is that the machine shop where he works is a mafia front where not only do they make really good rebuilt engines, but they also launder all the payola and protection money from every cigarette machine in this county. And do you know what? Dear Ben went out and broke a guy's arm about a month ago, collecting."
Mick sighed. "Okay, so what do you want from me?" He loved his brother. Had loved him all his life. Had heard stories like this on and off over the years. Never amounted to anything. He just ignored them and the stories went away. Ben was rock solid, always there, strong, always when you needed him.
"Try to reason with the dear one. I'd like to see him turn state's evidence. Clean his record. He'll be well protected, and he'll have a fresh start in life. We'd like to put away the people he works for."
"I'll tell him about your offer."
Zydak found a toothpick in his shirt pocket and pointed it at Mick before sticking it in his mouth. "It's an offer now. It'll be charges in a couple of months. Tell him to be smart and call me."
The cops drove off and Mick forgot the conversation as soon as the diner came in sight.
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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