Once Were Cops by Ken Bruen Read Free Book Online Page B

the price.
    Kebar was a big Springsteen fan, “The Price You
    Pay” unreeling in his head like a dodgy old 45.
    And get this, when you have the out-on-the-
    precipice dementia, there’s going to be oddities
    thrown into the maelstrom.
    Emily Dickinson, not the first name you’d have put
    in this cauldron but logic hadn’t a whole lot of
    validity in this gig And … in German.
    He had no idea how that happened but he had a
    battered copy of her Guten Morgen, Mitternacht.
    And add to the mystery, he could quote from it,
    where’d that come from?
    Fuck knows.
    As he brought the bar down on some skel’s head,
    he in canted: “Tod macht die Saiten krumm—
    Night meine Schuld.” “… Death twists the strings
    — ‘Twasn’t my fault.” And his mantra:
    uEinfremder Stamm, allein—”
    … Wrecked, solitary, here— He fucking loved
    that.
    When he would finally stagger back to his crap
    one-room apartment in Queens, he’d throw up the
    food he’d bought, pour a lethal shot of Stoli,
    thinking,
    “Mellow on down.”
    He’d drag his battered suitcase from under the bed,
    flip it open, and his stone face would nearly smile.
    His pride and joy.
    Weapons.
    Glock, Beretta, snub-nosed .22, and the beauty, the
    Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum.
    Serious firepower.
    He loved that elephant, the wood grip, the sheer
    weight in your hand, you hit a freak with that, he
    wasn’t never getting up again.
    He’d put Bruce on the turntable, “Thunder Road,”
    “State Trooper,” “Stolen Car,” and he was wired.
    The Magnum in his right hand, the thought of eating
    the barrel occurring more and more.
    One squeeze, no more crap.
    Late on a Friday, Deadwood on the box, he had the
    piece to his mouth when his door received a bang.
    Holding the weapon loosely by his side, he opened
    it.
    Morronni, a box of pizza and a bottle of merlot,
    said,
    “Beware of goons bearing gifts, right?” He glanced
    down at the Magnum, asked, “You expecting
    company or just riled up?” He moved past Kebar,
    said,
    “Deadwood, love it, since Brian Cox joined, it’s
    moved up a notch, you think?” He tossed the box
    on the table, asked, “So, you got any wineglasses?”
    Kebar got a mug, none too clean, said, “Knock
    yourself out.”
    Morronni used his silk handkerchief to clean it,
    poured a measure, looked at the Stoli bottle, said,
    “Whatever gets you there, am I right?” Kebar
    stayed standing, swaying actually, and asked, “The
    fuck you want?”
    Morronni pretended offense, then smiled, a
    predator’s one, said, “It’s payday, my man.”
    Tossed a fat envelope on the counter, said, “A
    little extra this time as we have a favor to ask.”
    Kebar didn’t touch the thing, asked, “And that’d
    be?”
    “We got a shipment coming in Friday, need to
    know if the narcs know.” Kebar nodded and
    Morronni asked, “You’re good to go on that?”
    Kebar gave a bitter chuckle, said, “What you pay
    me for, right?”
    Morroni opened the pizza box, tore off a hefty
    slice, stuffed his face, then midbite said,
    “Slight problem has come up.”
    Kebar was having double vision, would he have to
    shoot the two Morronnis he was seeing, asked,
    “Yeah, what’s that?”
    “Your kid, the Mick cop, he did a real number on
    my boy Gino.”
    Kebar was delighted, Jesus, that kid, said,
    “And?”
    Morronni was looking in disgust at his white shirt,
    a dab of sauce had landed there and he seemed
    pissed, said,
    “Fucking hate when that happens, oh yeah, your
    boy, he’s going to have to make restitution.”
    “What did you have in mind?” Morronni debated
    another wedge and decided against it, said, “I’ll
    think of something.” Kebar had to know, asked,
    “And if he doesn’t?” Morronni stood up brushing
    crumbs from his suit, said,
    “Then it goes on you.”
    Kebar thought of the firepower he had so very
    close to hand and for one brief mad moment he
    considered blowing the scumbag to hell and gone,
    but then what of