Bomber's Law (27 page)

“But that didn't happened to Timmy right now yet, so naturally what does he think? He thinks—with his dick of course, not with his brains—he's havin' fun, this real big hot shit that he is, pokin' both sisters at once, and plenty of money and everythin'. And he is, stupid fuck, he is havin' fun, and he will be, too, 'til he gets caught. That's what he don't realize, see? Then that cock of his'll,
bam
, right in the meatgrinder, and that won't be no fun at all, then. But, what it is that he's finally doin' these days, that's where all the money comes from? That I'm not tellin' you, right? Don't go gettin' that idea or nothin', but this thing that he finally came up with, don't matter no more, some people don't like him, too much fresh mouth on him there.
With them, without them, he don't give a shit. Don't matter a good shit to him. He don't need the old paisans no more now. He can do what he wants without them, and he's getting rich doing it, too, he can hang onto some of it there. And they don't even know what it is.”

“What what is?” Dell'Appa said idly, chewing and dunking the teabag repeatedly into the hot water.

“Don't talk with your mouth full, all right?” Mossi said. “It's not polite, and anyways, I wouldn't tell you anyways and I already told you that, that I wasn't gonna tell you.” The public address system began to amplify a sandpaper voice reading lists of information about the afternoon's racing card. “The point of it is here that the two of them're not only not acting serious about anything, they don't even see how there's anything that they should even be serious about, you know? People've been shot, they've gotten shot, over this kinda stuff, you know?”

He looked sharply at Dell'Appa. “Or do you know that? No, prolly you don't know. How'd you know? You're the same age's he is, you're prolly still just as fuckin' stupid's he is. Here's this guy that's thirty-five, thirty-six years old, and he don't even understand he's way too old for a kid her age, that's what? prolly nineteen years old. And that's his wife's sister to boot. That's what I'm talking about. What they're playin' with's dynamite here. So, but that don't matter none to him, does it, and you seen her: don't matter to her. But … and that's all I was sayin'.”

“I see,” Dell'Appa said absently, reading the program, still chewing his sandwich. The meat was unusually gristly. “You got anything good here, this after?”

“What,”
Mossi said, nasally dragging the word out, “what's this you're asking me here now?”

“I asked you,” Dell'Appa said, looking up from the program and chewing pastrami, “you got anything good here this after.”

“You
are
asking me,” Mossi said.

“Well, yeah,” Dell'Appa said. “I mean after all, you're the expert here, right? You're the one that comes here every Tuesday, Thursday afternoon. Been coming here since Truman was president, I guess. Not me. I've never been here before in my life. Which's been my oversight, I can see that now. This's a pretty nice place. It's very
comfortable here. But I didn't know that 'til you showed me the way down here today. So it's not like I planned on this happening or anything, you know? Had a chance to do much homework on the dogs or anything. How they've been doing and so forth, which ones've been going good. So I'd know which ones I should be betting on, if you happened to come up and sit next to me. Like I'd come into this expecting that, that we're gonna strike up a conversation like this—or rather:
you
are, 'Cause you did the strikin' up here—the first day I take over the detail.”

He paused and studied Mossi for a moment, holding the sandwich as though struck by a thought in the process of taking another bite. “Because, you know, when I was going over the files and all, the reports Bob did on you, I didn't run into a reference, least yet, not one single reference, where you and Bob ever did that. Had a conversation, you know? Like you and I're having today, here. Nothing like that at all. And he was with you lots of days. He was with you a long time. Therefore I wasn't prepared, to take over that aspect of this.” He hesitated. “If that was an aspect of this, I just didn't know about there.” He hesitated again. “So,” he said, “was it?”

“What?” Mossi said.

“You having conversations with Bob,” Dell'Appa said. He raised the sandwich again and held it ready to bite. “A conversation, just one conversation, or many of them, a whole bunch. Either one. Regular chats between you two guys, regular heart-to-heart talks. Or just one talk once. Either one.” He took a quick bite of the sandwich.

Mossi snorted. “Me?” he said. “Talk to Brennan, you mean?”

“Well, yeah,” Dell'Appa said, having chewed and swallowed quickly. “That's exactly what I mean, yes indeed. Did you and Bob Brennan go steady?”

Mossi stared at him. “Do they know about you,” he said, “back in Boston, I mean? Do they know that you're two-thirds nuts?”

Dell'Appa nodded emphatically. “Oh
yeah
,” he said, “absolutely. Matter of fact there's several of 'em'd tell you two-thirds's an understatement.
Big
understatement.” He laughed. “But nutty or not, Mister Mossi,” he said, “I can still keep track of what's goin' on around me, and you still haven't answered my question. Did you get to be pals with Bob Brennan?”

“I knew who he was,” Mossi said. “Him and me never talked in my life.”

Dell'Appa finished the sandwich and wiped his hands with the paper napkin. He nodded while he was chewing and swallowing. “Okay then,” he said, “that's out of the way. I'm feeling much better about this. I still wasn't prepared for this meeting we're having, but from you tell me, I had no reason to be. But still, since we're having one here, what looks good to you then? Any hot dogs, so to speak? I don't want to look like a chump here, don't know what I'm doing or something.”

Mossi glared at him. “You son of a bitch,” he said. “Is this what's behind this all then? You takin' over for Brennan on me? Is this why they're doing this thing?”

“Doing what thing,” Dell'Appa said. “What thing is it that they're doing?”

“You know what they're doin',” Mossi said. “Don't give me that shit, all right? You come from that place and you work for those guys and they tell you what you're gonna be doing. Just like they tell Brennan, too. And that's what it is, and you do it. So Brennan's gone off now, they're takin' him off, and they're putting you on in his place. So don't try to tell me, don't act like you don't know, exactly what's goin' on here, 'Cause you do. Me, I don't know, that's why I'm askin' you, but you an' Brennan, both of you know. Fuckin' government. It's always the same thing, every damned fuckin' time, you deal with the fuckin' damned government. And it don't matter which government, either. The State or the city, the feds: doesn't matter. Any one of you fuckin' damned bastards. The guy that you're dealin' with always plays dumb, like he fuckin' doesn't know what he's fuckin' well doin', don't know what's goin' on. And most times he doesn't, the fucker, he doesn't, because of he is an asshole and he wouldn't know if he did fuckin' know—wouldn't make no difference to him. But sometimes, like now, the guy really does
know
, like you know but you're not gonna tell me, and that's when I really get mad. Playin' Mickey the Dunce on me here.”

Dell'Appa laughed at him. “Oh for Christ sake, up yours, Mossi, all right? Cut it out, willya? Just ram it right in the satchel, right in the old barracks bag. And stop actin' like a big asshole. We're both
big boys in this now, all grown-up. You do what you do because it's what you've been doing so long now you can't even remember, any more, the other things you did, you're so highly-respected in your profession, whatever it is that you call it. And I know that. I can even understand it. Just like I know damned well you've got to figure that even though Bob Brennan's got a lot of years on me, a lot more time in grade, and you don't even know who I am or where the hell I came from, I must have something on the ball. Because if I didn't, I wouldn't've been assigned to take his place, chasing a gentleman as highly respected as you are.”

Mossi glared at him. “Because if you don't,” Dell'Appa said, “then I'll just have to assume here that either you're just getting all upset because having a guy your age replaced on your case by a guy a lot younger'n you are makes you start wonderin' if pretty soon you'll have to start wearing Depends or something, because you'll be pissing your pants. Or else all of this, this whole performance of yours here today, it's all just something you're doing to be funny. On purpose. Because if it isn't, if all of this is supposed to be for real, you oughta go to see someone real soon. Some guy who examines heads, you know? Professionally, I mean. To see if there's anything in them. If this's your idea of a tactic. Off-balance the tenderfoot here, his first day on the job.”

“Look,” Mossi said, clearing his throat, his voice dropping and becoming extremely guttural, “lemme try and see if I can help you, help us both get something straight here, all right? Because I really think we oughta. I don't know anything about no tactic-shit, or anything like that. What I know is that for a long time now I've been … well, what it was was, the way it actually went there, was quite a while ago I get outta bed one mornin', and I go to start another day of doin' what I always do, my regular routine. It's nothin' real excitin' but now I'm used to it, you know? And so I don't mind it now. It's what I always do. Make sure my brother's outta bed, he gets dressed and eats his breakfast. See, I don't know, you notice this, you're sittin' there with Brennan in that blue-and-white truck he's always drivin' there this morning, like you most likely must've been, get a look at me—but my kid brother Danny, see, just because he did something yesterday all like he should've, got himself out of bed an' eck-cetra in
the morning, all that stuff just like you and I do every day without nobody telling us, well, this don't mean that he is gonna automatically do that same thing today. 'Cause maybe he won't. So I have to make sure he does it, does things like he's supposed to, okay? Doesn't let himself get off the track.

“See, Danny's what they call ‘mildly retarded.' When he's having a good day. And when he's had some bad days sometimes, like everybody's had, one time or another, and I've had to take him to the hospital for some help, get him some help there, then they say, some of them've said ‘moderately,' that he's ‘moderately retarded.' Like when you have a bad time for a few days or so, even a couple weeks or so maybe, like everybody seems to at some point in their life even though they don't like it much, it's because you're not as smart as you usually were.

“And,” Mossi said, frowning, “an' this
worries
me, you know? Really bothers the hell out of me. When I hear them sayin' that. Like it isn't that he isn't really what he is on days he's good, and they said he's ‘mildly.' It's like when he gets a bad day that is what he really is, and he's ‘moderately' then. That really scares me. Because if they can do that, if they can change what he is just by saying different words, then they could change him from ‘moderately' to ‘severely,' and then from that to ‘profoundly', say he's ‘profoundly retarded.' Because those are the four kinds of ‘retarded' and that is the worst one. Well, if they can do that, just change what Danny is by seeing him when he's not as good as he usually is, or by having somebody see him on a day that's not so good instead of someone who has seen him all the other times, when he's been like he always is, they could put him away. Scares the shit out of me, they could do that. They could take the kid out of the house where he lives, and they could then lock him up. That's what I'm afraid of. And that's what I don't want to see happen, and so I look out for the kid.

“You see what I'm saying here? It's like, it'd be like you come down here to the track quite a lot and you generally make out all right, usually go home with a few dollars, you won fifty or a hundred bucks or so. Then on some other days, maybe, you only won twenny, but another time, perfecta, the double or something, you're up three or four hundred bucks. And on days when you lose—you're like
everyone else; everybody's got days when they lose—you don't generally lose that much either, no more'n forty or so, seldom take too bad a hit. Because you been at it long enough now, you got enough experience, you can usually tell when you're havin' a bad day like that, pickin' the dogs, and they're always gonna come along, so you know. And you see that soon as it started and you're keepin' your bets down all day. Plus which, either way, win or lose, at least you had a good time, right? You relaxed, maybe had a few beers, you go home and you're feelin' good. And what is that, you do that? That's ‘healthy.' That's ‘normal.' That is the way an intelligent man like yourself spends a day off, relaxin', enjoyin' himself. A man should know how to relax.

“And then one day you don't. You get hammered. Get the shit kicked out of you. Well, the assholes at the hospital, they would say that was because you happen to be a very stupid person, that is what you are, and you should probably not even go out by yourself, all right? You see? You got skunked onna dogs, lost your fuckin' shirt, and then you got shit-faced on toppa all that, and the reason was: you are dumb. Not: that you pulled up dumb, on that particular day. Not: that that day you weren't smart like you usually are, so you got your head right up your ass, but next week, even tomorrow, maybe, you'll be just fine again. No, nothin' like that, nothin' like that ever happened, you went home, good night's sleep, and tomorrow you're gonna be fine. No: ‘No more racin' for you. You're incompetent to take care of yourself. We're puttin' you inna home.' And they can do that too, if they want. They got the power to do that. If there's nobody else who looks out for you, that's exactly what they can do.