Falafel Jones - The Kewpie Killer by Falafel Jones Read Free Book Online Page A

to come in.”
    “What’s the matter? You afraid that I’ll play with the siren and lights?”
    “You’re going to want to come in.”
    “OK”
    The bell hanging on the door tinkled when we walked in and a hunched old man in a white dress shirt and baggy, grey trousers came out of the racks of clothes to greet us. When he saw Robby, his face lit up. “Officer Carlyle. How nice to see you.” The man held up a finger and disappeared back into the clothing racks. When he returned, he carried a W.P.D. uniform on a hanger. “Like new,” he said with obvious pride and handed it to Robby. “Good thing you didn’t try to get that stain out yourself.”
    Robby put the hanger on a hook and took out his wallet. “Thank you, Morty. How much do I owe you?”
    Morty made a face. “For you? Nothing.”
    “C’mon, Morty. How much?”
    Morty looked at me, then at Robby, then at me, then at Robby. “What? Is she Internal Affairs? What a shame. So pretty, too.”
    I said, “I’m Raquel Flanagan, I’m a —“ and Robby interrupted me.
    “— friend of mine, Morty.”
    “Girlfriend?” Morty asked.
    Robby raised his eyebrows and rocked his head side to side. I made a subtle “Who knows?” gesture and Morty said, “Ahh. Too soon to tell. Robby, after what you did for me, I can’t let you pay.”
    “What did Robby do for you?”
    Morty duplicated Robby’s side to side gesture but also put his shoulders into it so it became a sort of dance. I guessed he was weighing whether he should tell me his story. It was then I realized why Robby cut off my introduction. He was afraid I’d mention I was a reporter and Morty wouldn’t tell me anything. Morty must have decided I was OK because he began to speak, “Business got poor when the city ripped up the sidewalk in front of the store, repairs to the sewage system. Then the contractor and the city got into a snit and the lawyers got involved. Then the cold delayed the sidewalk repairs. It took months to fix.”
    Robby chimed in, “Folks didn’t like carrying clean clothes over open sewer pipes or big piles of dirt.”
    Morty shrugged and said, “I fell behind, couldn’t get a bank loan and borrowed from the wrong man. Thought I could pay him what I owed plus the agreed interest and be done. Uh uh, he wanted to keep me in debt, kept adding fees and changing rates. He kept increasing the amount and when I couldn’t pay, he got violent. He broke things, tore up clothing and threatened to break my fingers. Did you know he broke his own mother’s finger because she pointed it at him. That’s why they called him Breaker Burke, a nasty, nasty man.”
    “He wasn’t a bookie?” I asked.
    Robby added, “A multi-faceted thug, also ran protection scams, only loan shark around without an enforcer. Some folks said he didn’t really care about money, just wanted to hurt people… and yet, women adored him.”
    Morty nodded and said, “That was my hellish life until one day, Robby took out a loan against his car, paid that bastard and chased him away… ” Morty bent his head down, looked side to side as if to see if anyone was listening and then whispered, “… at gunpoint.”
    I was impressed. “Wow, Robby. That’s something.”
    Robby seemed embarrassed. “It wasn’t such a big deal. By then business was good again and Morty was making money. We signed some papers. If things went bad, I’d own a dry cleaners and I was justified to draw my weapon. The crook was carrying. I could see it. He was lucky I didn’t arrest him.”
    “Why didn’t you?” I asked.
    “All I had was Morty’s testimony against his and the guy had a carry permit for the gun. Charges wouldn’t have stuck.”
    Morty stood a little straighter after telling the story and said, “And to sweeten the pot, a week later, they found the bastard dead at the carnival.”
    Robby took his dry cleaning from the rod next to the cash register and said, “Thanks, Morty.”
    Morty grinned. “Please, Robby.