Mickey Finn and Louie Caarbone Part Two   Leave a comment

mickey-finn-coneThis is my Sheltie Mickey Finn. Poor Mickey had eye surgery on Thursday. It went well but Mickey has been sentenced to the cone of shame for ten days. He does not like it at all.

That is why I have not had time to write too much on the blog. I am barely keeping up with writing on the book. Here is part two of Louie Carbone. After this one it starts picking up.

 

LOUIE CARBONE PART TWO.

As Sean and Hank crossed the Verrazano Bridge leaving Brooklyn “Summer in the City” was playing on the satellite radio.

Sean turned to Hank, “You know it is probably going to be real hot there. I don’t mean the temperature.”

Hank answered, “It’s going to get a lot hotter when we get there for the asshole making the threats.”

“Hank the only person that Jimmy ever killed was Crazy Louie Carbone. Louie was only a low level associate of Johnny Boy Ferranti. He always acted like he was a made man but he was really only an idiot gofer. Jimmy stopped him with a rack full of stolen coats in the garment district. Instead of just taking the collar and doing a few months the asshole pulled a gun. Jimmy dropped him with two in the chest. So this could somehow be tied to the mob.”

Hank shook his head, “I really can’t see the mob getting involved in this they almost never go after family, especially not a young girl.”

Sean nodded, “I know it doesn’t make any sense that they would go after Jimmy’s kid over Carbone. They all knew he was an asshole and deserved what he got.”

“I know I guess we will find out what’s going on when we get there.”

They drove straight through stopping only for gas. When they reached Jacksonville Sean called Carol. She suggested they meet at the college.

Sean told her, “No that is out of the question. St. Augustine is too crowded.”

Carol said, “Okay then how about my house?”

“No, I want a place where if someone is following you we can see him. Is there a restaurant or something with a good open view of the street where we could meet?”

“There’s Finn’s it’s on the corner of A1A and 100 in Flagler Beach. From the upper deck you can see both streets and the beach clear and the food is pretty good.”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll meet you there for lunch say 11:30.”

Carol answered, “Okay but if we’re sitting on the upper deck they can see us from the street too. Shouldn’t we go someplace where we can’t be seen?”

“Don’t worry about anyone seeing us. Of course if you see one of them let me know. See you tomorrow.”

“OK, if you say so Uncle Sean. Thanks for coming all the way down here, Bye.”

“Anytime Sweetie, Bye.”

After hanging up Sean asked Hank, “Do you know any sleazy hotels or motels around here?”

“Not right here but there are a load of them along Rte 1 in Daytona.”

“Then I guess we should head there. We need a place that won’t ask questions and will mind their own business.”

They drove south on Rte 1 looking for a cheap motel that they could use.

“Hank pointed to one on their left. How about that one it looks pretty shitty?”

It had five or six drug addicted skanky hookers milling about in the parking lot.

Sean shook his head, “No, that is not the one for me. It looks like you won’t get crabs there you’ll get lobsters. Besides with that many hookers outside the police are probably called there every fifteen minutes.”

On the next block Hank had another, “How about here?”

“No, The Board of Health won’t be shutting that place. The C.D.C. will do it. Even the roaches in there are puking. Hank I want a skuzzy motel not a Petri dish for new and exciting diseases?”

Two blocks later Hank had a spotted another one, “How about this one. Is it okay for your delicate little ass princess.”

“It looks like it might do. There are not too many piles of puke in the parking lot and as an added attraction it appears they cleaned up the blood from the last shooting. Let me go in and check. If we can get two rooms all the way in the back I’ll take it.”

Sean went in and was out ten minutes later, “I got both rooms. Let’s check I think they should do. Your room is booked in the name of Edgar A. Poe, mine is Herbert G. Wells.”

As he entered the first room Hank said, “I hope the other one is better. This place would make a roach puke.”

The second room appeared to be slightly better as they could see plenty of roaches and none of them were puking.

Hank replied, “Good let’s drop our stuff off and go get something to eat, I’m starving here.”

From the van they carried their luggage and an old wooden chair in the motel room. Then Sean drove back to Flagler Beach so they could look around the area before tomorrow.

Standing across the street from Finn’s Pub Sean said, “She picked a good spot. We should be able to see if anyone is watching us.”

Hank answered, “Do you want to eat here tonight. She said the food was good.”

“No, I don’t think we should be seen together in there. Who knows what will happen tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you are probably right. A friend of mine who came down here a few of years ago told me he went to a place called the Golden Lion. He said the fish and chips were excellent.”

“That sounds good to me. I saw the sign for the place a few blocks north.”

“I hope it has a bar.”

“It does.”

“Thank you Jesus.”

After eating they made their plans for the next day over a couple or three beers.

Finally Sean said, “I guess that’s it. Let’s go back to the motel chip the crusty stuff off those sheets and get some sleep. We may need it tomorrow.”

 

3

The next day Sean and Hank were at Flagler Beach at nine am. They wanted to check the area again in daylight this time. Hank dropped Sean off in front of the Golden Lion and continued on. He parked across the street from Finns. Each would walk A1A and 100 for several blocks in each direction separately.

After finishing his route or as Hank thought of if checking his post he looked for a place to wait. Hank found a bench just a little ways south of 100. He was prepared. He had a large coffee a bag with two cokes and a bagel he got on the way. It wasn’t a New York Bagel but beggars can’t be choosers. He had found a little bookstore on 100. When he saw it he thought he should get a book. An old guy reading a book on a bench by the beach, perfect he will blend right in. He sat down looked around once more and opened his book.

An hour later he got a call. It was Sean, “Hank I see Carol coming. Where are you?”

“I’m at one of the benches beachside just south of you. I stopped and picked up a book to blend in.”

“Is the book any good?”

“Yeah, it’s called Water Hazard about some guy named Ike. He would have fit right in with the crowd in the old 83.”

“Okay just don’t forget to listen for me.”

“No problem I never missed a radio call.”

“I know I’ll let you know if she saw anyone one following her.”

“If she thinks she was followed try to get a description”

“Will do, gotta go here she comes”

Posted February 10, 2017 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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Louie Carbone   2 comments

red-hook

I didn’t blog last week but it wasn’t my fault. I switched from Direct TV to Dish. That also necessitated a switch of my internet service provider. The only way I could have blogged was with my phone. Now I have seen some of these kids who appear to be typing eighty words a minute with their thumbs but that is not me. I don’t think I could do eighty words an hour on my phone. So I am back now.

 

I have noticed in the New York papers that people being shot or stabbed only blocks from Wyckoff Heights Medical Center are being taken by bus miles away for treatment. I asked on one of the 83 web sites and was told there are two reasons. The first is that Wyckoff is not a full fledged trauma center. The other reason is that the city would prefer they go to a city hospital. I remember when I was working most victims of shootings or stabbings if serious went by RMP to Wyckoff. We believed seconds counted. It appears that the city no longer believes that. There was also a camaraderie that developed between the cops and the ER personnel. We knew all the nurses, doctors and other personnel. We would if available try to be around the hospital when shifts changed to make sure the nurses got to their cars safely and if we were injured and taken to Wyckoff we were given extra care. If we needed supplies gloves, bandages, band aids etc for our cars we could stop in and get it.  While there are many good things that have come up lately this does not seem to be one. It is a shame that some things have to change.

I am considering taking a short story I wrote and adding it to the blog in serial form. It runs about thirty five pages so I guess I would do it in about five installments. The story concerns two retired 83 cops, a young damsel in distress, the mob, a mob wanna be, and two retired 83 cops. The same two cops from “A Year In Bushwick” but many years later. Here is the first installment. If anyone is interested and would like to see more let me know

 

LOUIE CARBONE

By Kevin G Cox

 

Sean rolled over in bed and looked at the clock as he reached for the phone. Damn three o’clock, three a.m. phone calls suck. They are never good news.

“Hello.”

“Uncle Sean, I don’t know what to do. I’m really scared. I think he is going to kill me.”

“Carol, Take a deep breath, calm down. Now start from the beginning and tell me what is going on.”

“Ok but I am really, really scared. I was at a club in a few days ago. A cute guy I never saw before came up to me and we started talking. He asked if I was from Brooklyn. I said yeah. He smiled at me and asked if my father was Jimmy Morrisey. I said yeah, did you know my father. Then he stopped smiling he leaned in close to me and whispered that Louie Carbone was a friend of his family and I was going to pay for what my father did to him. Uncle Sean I think that was the name of the guy my father shot. He was in the Mafia Uncle Sean. I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do.”

“Did you tell the Police?”

“Yeah, they said that I may have misunderstood what he said. They didn’t consider it an overt threat. Unless he does more they can’t help me.”

“Okay have you seen this guy since that night?”

“I saw him and the three friends he was at the party with a few times near the school. At first I thought maybe I did have it wrong. I mean he could have just been playing a rotten joke on me. I live with a few girls from school. We rent a place in Flagler Beach so we can learn to surf and get away from school when we want to. Today every time I turned around I saw one of his friends. I think he was following me all day. What should I do Uncle Sean?”

“Were his three friends from Brooklyn too?”

“No, one of the girls at the party was complaining that they were there. She said they were local low lives and weren’t invited.”

“Okay that’s good. Stay calm I’m on my way. I’ll drive down and get to the bottom of this. “

“Good see you tomorrow. Bye Sweetie I’ll take care of everything don’t worry. Just stay home until you hear from me.”

“Okay, thank you Uncle Sean.”

As soon as he hung up Sean started planning and packing. At six he called Hank. Hank had been his partner when they were cops in Bushwick, Brooklyn.

Hank answered on the third ring, “Aren’t you dead yet.”

Sean replied, “Not yet but I was hoping you were. I was going to come over and get that H&K 9mm you have.”

“The H&K, you would probably shoot yourself in the dick with it. It is a man’s gun. What’s up?”

“Do you remember my cousin Jimmy Morrisey?”

“Isn’t he the guy who killed Crazy Louie Carbone? I heard he died. Didn’t he have lung problems from 9/11?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“I only met him a few times. Great guy, shame he had to go that way.”

“I got a call from his daughter Carol this morning. She’s been calling me Uncle Sean since she was a baby. Anyway she called because she is having a problem down in Florida. I am driving down to give her a hand. I was wondering if you can lend me your cargo van too.”

“What kind of problem do you need a 9mm and a cargo van for?”

Sean explained the phone call and what he planned on doing.

Hank yelled into the phone, “Are you out of your damn mind. I’m not lending you my van or my gun. You can’t do that, at least not alone.  You can’t but we can do it, so I’m coming with you.”

“Are you sure? Carbone was with Ferrante’s crew. I can’t see the mob being involved in this, but if they are it could get messy.”

“I don’t mind messy, never did. I hope you’re bringing a gun.”

“Two, my S&W 40 and the little .380.”

“You never come prepared. I’ll have my Chief, the H&K and just in case I’ll toss my Remington 870 in the back of the van.”

“Do you really think we will need a shotgun?”

“As the little old Jewish lady who lives across the street from me always says, “You never know, it couldn’t hoit.” When do you want to leave?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes. Have coffee ready. It’s a long ride from Brooklyn to Florida.”

The Garbage Man   2 comments

Patrol I bet you thought I forgot to get this weeks blog in. No I didn’t. I have just been pretty busy this week. I have been writing a lot hopefully most of it will make it into my new book. The is of course completely fictional. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.  So I have a little story I am going to share this week it’s called “The Garbage Man.” Like I said it is a total fiction and anyone who says it is not is a liar.

THE GARBAGE MAN

 Sean was working with Bob this four by twelve. Bob and Sean had been partners for years but when Sean was transferred to the Arson Task force the partnership ended. Bob had since partnered with John and Sean with Hank but it was good when they occasionally got thrown together. They knew each other so well that they didn’t have to discuss how they would handle it when sent on a dangerous job. Each knew the others every move.

They had a nine o’clock meal. This was spent in the luxurious precinct lounge. The lounge was equipped with twenty year old third hand couches and a TV that the cops had chipped in for.

After meal the two returned to patrol for the last two hours of the tour. Tour is NYPD for shift. It was eleven when they got a call for a ten-fifty two family dispute on Putnam Ave. the second floor left apartment. It was an apartment they each had been to several times before.

They arrived and knocked on the apartment door, “Police open up.”

A young girl’s voice answered from inside, “Who is it?”

Sean replied, “It is the PO – lice now open the door.”

The door was opened by the girl. She was about nineteen she had been beaten. Her face was swollen and black and blue. The cops asked who hit her and if she wanted to go to the hospital.  She claimed that her live in boyfriend didn’t hit her that she had been hurt when she fell outside. Sean and Bob tried to get her to admit the truth of what happened and press charges but she refused. She did not want anything done, just wanted him out of the house. They told him since he was not on the lease he would have to leave.

It was frustrating for them but it that time if she would not press charges there was nothing that could legally be done despite obvious signs of injury. Mister asshole also knew this and was showing his ass the whole time we were there. He was wise mouthing and making threats. He was being the big bad man in front of the girl trying to make her even more afraid of him.

He turned to her, “Next time you call the cops on me I will kick their asses and then your ass for calling them. That’s if they even have the balls to show up once they know it is me.”

Bob told him, “Look, stop with the mouth just throw some clothes on and take a walk.”

He kept it up while he was getting his stuff together to go. He kept muttering about the bitch and cops and what he would like to do to the piece of shit cops next time. The two cops walked out the front of the building with the skell after listening to him rant for about fifteen minutes while getting dressed. On the sidewalk he turned to Bob.

“Next time you show up when I’m teaching that bitch a lesson you will learn what happens when you mess with a real man.”

Bob answered, “A man doesn’t beat up women. A man shows respect.”

He answered, “That’s not a man that is a little pussy like you.”

Bob asked Sean, ” Sean, Is this a man?”

Sean shook his head, “No Bob, this is not a man”.

“Then what is it Sean?”

“Garbage.”

“Are you calling me garbage mother fucker?”

“Yep and we wouldn’t want to litter would we Bob?”

“No we wouldn’t Sean. Where does garbage belong?”

“In the garbage can.”

The two cops jammed him into a garbage can in front of the building with his knees folded up to his head. Then they put the lid on and left. The shift ended and they went home at midnight.

The next day as they were getting ready to head home Davey White the Sergeant’s driver from the midnight tour came over and asked, “What happened last night?”

“Nothing much, Why?”

“About two o’clock I was driving the Sergeant down Putnam Avenue and we heard someone calling for help. We searched for who was calling and as I went past one building I heard it come from a garbage can. I took the lid off and there was a guy ass up in the can. I didn’t expect that. All I could see was his ass and one foot.”

He said, “Help me out of here.”

I asked him, “How the hell did you get in there.”

He said, “Some asshole cops stuck me in here, I can’t get out.”

“I knew it had to be you two.”

Bob and Sean started laughing and told Davey the whole story of the dispute.

“What did you do with that skell, Davey?”

“I put the lid back on the can, told the Sergeant that it was just kids goofing around and drove away. I made sure not to go back to Putnam for the rest of the night. I don’t know if he is still there.”

“Don’t worry about it. Bob and I checked. He isn’t there anymore. Either he got out or the garbage men took him to the dump.”

He laughed, “Good, because I was going to stay off Putnam if you hadn’t told me that. Do you have any others stuffed around or any dead bodies I should avoid?”

“Not tonight but check back tomorrow. You never know.”

That’s my blog for this week. See you next week.

 

 

Posted January 28, 2017 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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A short story   Leave a comment

I almost didn’t get this post in. I planned on writing it yesterday but when I sat down I decided to do a bit on my sequel first. It started to flow and I got six pages in. Six pages is a lot for me. If I could do that every day I would have the book done in a couple of months. Anyway the reason I didn’t have a lot of time today is I had to have a Cardiac Stress test. No reason for it the doctor just figured it had been five years since my last one. I wanted to take it easy for the day but didn’t want to miss a weekly post on the first week, so I decided that I would put a short story I wrote a long time ago. I am proud of this story, not because it is a very good story. I am proud of it because it was an exercise with a group of writers. We all had to write down a few characters and a plot. These were put in a hat and each person would draw a character from one hat and a plot from another. The character I drew was named Toad, who lived in a hole and ate bugs. The plot was an alien invasion of Earth. I am proud because I was able to make anything of that. It may not be a very good story but it is a coherent story and that was enough for me. It is completely different than what I usually write. That story follows.

 

TOAD’S TALE

BY Kevin G. Cox

Johnking83@aol.com

 

Toad lived in a very comfortable hole in the ground. It was on the grounds of the aquarium, in front of the director’s home. He had a conch shell roof and mother of pearl walls. His furniture was extremely comfortable. He had designed it all himself. He was a handy little pixie. Toad was a pixie prince. In fact, he was the “Prince of Shells” Protector of all shellfish and heir to the pixie throne. His mother would never tell why she had named him Toad. She was always a bit of a hippie and Toad often wondered if his father may have been an amphibian.

Toad was napping in his sand crab form after a lunch of sautéed beetles and worms. Sautéed beetles were his favorite lunch. He awoke to loud knocking at his door.

“Hold on I’m coming.”

“It is I Shelldon the sand crab my Prince.”

Toad hurried to the door. From Shelldon’s tone he felt something must be terribly wrong. Shelldon was Toad’s best friend and would usually only speak so formally at court. Shelldon rushed in as the door opened.

“My Prince it’s terrible, what are we going to do? It’s the worst thing ever.”

“Shelldon calm down, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Didn’t you hear? It’s all over the news.”

“What’s all over the news?”

“The Earth is being invaded by creatures from space.”

“If this is a joke it isn’t funny. You woke me from a nice dream.”

“It is not a joke My Prince. The worst part is what they want from us.”

“What do they want?”

“They eat only lobster and they want all the world’s lobsters. If we don’t hand the lobsters over they will destroy the earth and everything on it.”

Toad reeled back. This was the worst news possible. Toad knew at once he could not allow these creatures to take all the lobsters. Not only was he the protector of all shellfish, even his girlfriend was a lobster. Libbie lived in the aquarium. She was a yellow lobster. She preferred to be called golden. Toad always had a soft spot for blondes. Libbie and Toad had been together for almost a year ever since she arrived from Florida.

“The humans are meeting; they don’t have the strength to fight the Scorpions. They may allow them to take the lobsters.”

“Scorpions?”

“That’s what they are calling them. They are from a star in the constellation Scorpio. “

“Oh, what about the supreme council?”

“They are meeting now.”

“I shall speak before the council. Shelldon guard my home. “

“With my life Prince Toad.”

Toad changed into his Pixie form flew into the air and vanished in a puff of smoke.”

He reappeared just in front of the golden doors of the Supreme Council’s chambers. The ogre guards bowed and opened the doors for him.

As he entered he could hear Ironheart Stonebody, King of the Dwarves say, “Then it is agreed that we have no choice. As terrible as it is we have to acquiesce to their demands.”

Toad shouted, “NEVER”, as he strode to the center of the room.

He turned to look at each of the Kings and Queens sitting in their Thrones along the chamber walls. There was King Stonebody at the head of the room, it being the Dwarves turn to preside over the council. He saw his mother, Queen Peri Papillon of the Pixies, King Oberon Thistledown of the Woodland Elves, King Nac Mac Faelan of the Leprechauns, Queen Luna Sapphire of the fairies, Queen Laurel Aideen of the Witches and King Aisling Magnus of the Wizards. Torca king of the Trolls and Almondeye King of the Ogres was also present; they were non-voting members since their only magic was brute strength.

Toad bowed to the assembled royals and said, “I can’t believe this great assembly would bow to the demands of creatures from beyond this star and surrender a whole species to them. Are we not the protectors of the Earth and all the creatures upon it, above it and beneath it? Do we so easily renounce our sworn vows and abandon them to their fate. If another should come and demand the pixies, the elves or any of you should we just turn our backs and give over your lives. I say NEVER. I shall always resist. We have to keep our sworn vows if we are to mean anything in this or any world.”

King Stonebody stood, “Toad we understand and agree, but we have no way of defeating them. Little of our magic is violent. We would not stand a chance and in trying to save the lobsters we could lose the whole world. It is a painful decision, yet what else can we do?”

Toad stood tall, “I have a plan it may not work, but at least hear me out and consider it.”

The members of the Supreme Council crowded close as Toad presented his plan.”

The next day when Toad returned home he was greeted by Shelldon, “The invaders have left My Prince isn’t it wonderful? The lobsters are safe. How did you do it?”

“I explained to the Supreme Council that if all magical creatures worked together we had great power. It may not be violent power that can win a war, however it is powerful nonetheless.”

Shelldon said, “If the power wasn’t enough to win, how did we win.”

“All magic users on earth cast the same spell at the same time. It made for one incredibly powerful force. We couldn’t do them harm. but we could change what they could eat.”

“How could you trade one creature’s life for another? I am only a small sand crab yet that seems wrong. What animal are they eating now?”

“Dandelions, you know the way dandelions grow. You can’t get rid of them if you try. We gave them ten million dandelions. We got them from one block in the suburbs.”

Shelldon shook his head, “And that’s all you gave them”

Toad laughed, “Just that and a dandelion cook book. The scorpions will never starve again; the lobsters and the world are safe. It all worked out. I have to go I have a date with Libbie.”

 

As I said not a great story but a story and it filled up a blog post.

Posted January 20, 2017 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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I’m Back   1 comment

image18-copy-2It has been a long time since I have written a new blog post. I am going to try to get at least one post a week. In the time since my last post I have written a zombie apocalypse book, a story with the same two cops from “A Year in Bushwick” after they retired and a couple of short stories. Some were published in anthologies others I haven’t decided if I will publish or not. I may throw some of these out as blog posts.

I have been asked by many people when a sequel to “A Year in Bushwick” will be out and have tried repeatedly to get it started. I have gotten as many as fifty pages done and then threw the whole thing out. I did this four or five times. I just couldn’t was not happy at all with the way it was going. Sometimes I wanted to do it in third person and have it cleaned up and beautiful for a mass market publication. Other times I felt like it should follow the last book in the same style. But I had already done that and I like to do things differently. I think I have finally hit on what I want to do.

The last book I wanted to have the feel of someone just retired after many years of writing reports. I cared more that it felt real than read pretty. For this next one my idea is that it should have the feel of two people talking in a bar and one telling the stories of the precinct. This way sometimes the narrator is telling his own story and it will be in first person. Other times he will be telling stories either he was at or was told about afterwards. These can be told third person. But at all times the most important thing is that it reads true.

Most Police books deal with the Detectives but most Police work is done by the Uniform force. Even when a book deals with those in uniform they spend most of the book investigating crimes. As anyone who worked an “A” house (A high crime) in the NYPD of the seventies knows there was no time for that. Sometimes it was hard to find the time to take a piss never mind spending days investigating a burglary.

Our job on patrol was much like a MASH unit as far as crime went. We were to triage the cases we picked up. If the case was DOA on arrival we would just close it out with no further investigation. If the was still a chance we would try collect the information to keep the going and refer it onwards. In between those criminal cases we would also of course patrol the streets, make arrests, issue summons, handle vehicle accidents, any other aided cases, pull people from burning buildings, referee family disputes, riots, drunks, and anything else that may happen. That left little time for investigations. Hell we rarely even knew how the jobs we handled turned out.

Until next time, Kevin

Posted January 12, 2017 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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The Plunger   1 comment

plungerIt was a quiet four to twelve. Harry and Sean were on patrol as the snow, nature’s policeman fell. The pure white snow-covered the dirty streets lending a beauty in the moon light.

At ten-fifteen the patrol car’s radio crackled breaking the silence.

“83 Charlie!”

“Charlie Standing by.”

“83 Charlie 10-10 screams. Meet complainant Johnson 2017 Greene Ave. third floor.”

“Charlie enroute”

Sean unkeyed the mike and turned to Harry, “Third floor again. I hope we don’t have to carry another fat bastard down to an ambulance. There should be a law that anyone over three hundred pounds has to live on the first floor.”

Harry laughed, “I know what you mean that last asshole was three decent sized men in one skin. Oh well let’s go see what we’ve got.”

Arriving at the apartment Harry rapped on the door with his nightstick.

“Police.”, why on TV do they always say NYPD who the hell do they think it would be Peoria?

The door opened and a short shaking man in a tee-shirt came out.

Sean said, “You called?”

“Yeah it’s bad.”

“What’s bad? What’s the problem?”

“I heard horrible screams coming from the apartment upstairs. I was in Viet Nam; I’ve heard people scream when they were dying. When they had arms or legs blown off, but I never heard anyone scream like this.”

On the fourth floor Harry knocked at the locked door, no answer, “Do you think we should take the door.”

Sean answered, “Wait let me try to see inside from the fire escape.”

“Sounds good.”

Sean went up over the roof and down the fire escape. Looking into the kitchen he saw nothing. Leaning far over he was able to get a look through the bathroom window. There he saw a huge man lying in the tub, looking at his face Sean was sure the apartment’s occupant was exceedingly dead.

Back in the hallway Sean said, “Harry, take the door.”

“Someone in there need help?”

“I think he is way past that but I guess we should check.”

The door crashed open and they went to the bathroom. The male in the tub was way over four hundred pounds and would never be any deader. When Sean checked the body in the bloody wet tub he noticed the rubber end of a plunger down between the DOA’s legs.

“Harry look at this.”

Harry leaned over for a better look and said, “Holy shit, the whole handle is inside him.  I think the lump up near his rib cage is the other end of the plunger.”

Sean said, “Damn, I don’t know why he was on it like that but it looks like he slipped and that thing tore right through him. I guess that’s when he screamed. I can’t blame him for that. I bet that had a sting to it. We better call the Sgt.”

Sean didn’t know if the plunger killed him or if he had a heart attack or what but the results were the same he was quite dead. So everyone showed up. The Detectives and the ME were trying to decide if it was an accident or someone rammed it up there.

Det. Glen Prince asked Sean, “Did you see the plunger in the body’s rectum right away?”

Sean told Glen, “Rectum, I think it fuckin killed him.”

Glen laughed, “You are one sick bastard.”

Sean said, “Yeah but you laughed. Harry and I are going out in the hall it’s too crowded here. Call us if you need us.”

As they exited the apartment they saw a drunk coming up the stairs.

Harry stopped him, “Sir, you can’t come up here.”

“Why not? I live on the first floor I have a right to know what’s happening in my building. Now move or I’ll move you.”

Harry stood to his full six-foot five-inch height and answered him, “Actually, one you don’t have that right and two if you try to move me I am going to throw you down those stairs. Understand?”

The drunk had an abrupt personality change and asked quite nicely, “Why can’t I go in?”

Sean answered, “It is a crime scene and only those involved are allowed in.”

“Was he murdered?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Can’t I just go and see him for a second?”

“No.”

“I won’t touch anything.”

Harry said, “Look turn around, go downstairs and have another drink. You are starting to annoy me. I don’t like being annoyed and believe me you won’t like annoying me.”

“Can you at least tell me how he died?”

“We don’t know yet asshole, get out of here.”

“What did you see? How do you think he died?”

Sean said, “If you agree to go away I’ll tell you but you can’t tell anyone I told you.”

“I promise I won’t tell.”

“Now keep it to yourself but he plunged to his death.”

Harry solemnly shook his head and said, “I’m sorry man.”

As the drunk headed down the stairs Det. Prince came out of the apartment, “Who’s that?”

Sean answered, “Just a drunk from the first floor.”

“What did he want?”

“He wanted to know how this guy died.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“I told him he plunged to his death.”

“You sick bastard. God’s gonna get you for that one.”

The body was bagged and tagged and in the dead wagon before too long. So the night ended and like most nights it was straight to the B&G after work. It would be a good night for pinball and beer. Plus this was a good story and Sean wanted to tell it. After getting changed he walked to the corner bar.

Sean opened the door and heard Det. Prince say, “Rectum the fuckin thing killed him.”

Sean thought, Son of a bitch he stole my story and my joke but at least I still got one good one line left.

As he reached the knot of cops laughing at the story Glen stole from him Sean heard Glen finish, “and that’s the story of the man who plunged to his death.”

As the crowd roared Sean turned to Bob the bartender, “Gimme a beer.”

 

Posted May 5, 2015 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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Red Hook Memorial Parade   4 comments

Today I am posting something a bit different. This part of the book I am writing about two babies born on the same day at the same hospital and how their lives keep intersecting. The book is mostly about the one from The Point. At this point in the story he is almost five. It is written as he sees things in 1955. For those who remember those parades  I hope I capture the way it was. I would be happy to take any suggestions.

Kevin

59.doughboy-285x380Gerry was excited he would be going to the Memorial Day Parade with his Poppa. They would be going to the VFW Post and the church and Coffey Park with the big soldier statue. The VFW Post would march to the statue of the soldier in the park. When they got there they would all shoot guns. Gerry didn’t quite remember last year’s parade but he knew that he had liked it. All the kids were talking about trying to get the back of one of the bullets that come out of the guns. Gerry didn’t even know what they were but he wanted one.

When they got to the park a lot of men got up and talked about the war. He didn’t really understand what war was about but it sounded like fun. They were talking about big ships and airplanes and tanks. He hoped that he could go to a war some day. He didn’t want the people who ran them to run out of wars before he was old enough.

He had stopped hearing the speakers and was day dreaming about flying a big plane and knocking down the bad planes when he saw the guys with the guns get ready. They lifted those guns and BANG, BANG, BANG. They all shot three times. Gerry saw where one of the bullets landed in the grass and ran to it before anyone else saw it. When picked up the bullet it burned his hand, no one told him that they were hot and burned. But he had it and he wasn’t going to lose it for a little burn. Gerry ran back to his Poppa. He was proud that he got one of the bullets and a lot of bigger kids didn’t get any.

“Poppa, Poppa look I got a bullet. Maybe someday I can go to a war. Will you go with me?”

Poppa sat on a bench and said, “Gerry, I hope you never have to go to war. I hope there is never another war.”

Gerry thought; why doesn’t Poppa want me to have a war. All the men had a war. I want to have one too.

He forgot about being angry with his Poppa for not wanting him to play war when he heard music. Soon everyone was singing. Gerry liked singing. They sang the Anthem and God Bless America and a lot of other songs. Gerry didn’t know all the words but he knew some and when it was time to sing them he sang loud. When he didn’t know the words he just moved his mouth and pretended to sing. They sang a song about some guy named Johnny marching home. It was a good song Gerry was having fun when he heard his Poppa make a noise. He looked up and Poppa was crying. Poppa didn’t cry he was old, older even then Momma and Daddy.

He tugged on Poppa’s coat till Poppa looked down, “Poppa why are you crying?”

Poppa said, “My Johnny didn’t march home.”

Gerry didn’t know what he meant but he knew war made Poppa cry. If war could make Poppa cry then it was bad. He loved his Poppa and anything that made his Poppa cry was the baddest. He decided when he grew up and became a cop he would arrest anyone who made a war.

It would be years before he understood what war was and why Poppa cried. His Uncle, his Momma’s brother, Nanny and Poppa’s son Sgt. John Peterson was killed in the Battle of the Bulge. He would die on Christmas Day, Nanny’s birthday.

He didn’t understand all that in 1955 but that moment was burned into his four year old mind. For the rest of his life those five words of his Poppa. “My Johnny didn’t march home” were the saddest words he ever heard.

Posted February 26, 2015 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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