Ball Park by John Farrow

Author:John Farrow [John Farrow]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2019-05-27T16:00:00+00:00

Nun Stories

(A cluster of stones)

The boy who called himself Leonard cracked her heart open. He spoke of matters that confused her, enlightened her, inflamed her. A story he told reduced her to pulp. She shed her skin.

From Leonard, Quinn gleaned essential knowledge about Ezra Knightsbridge. He revealed that Ezra kept young thieves in tow. ‘Hard to say how many.’

Being one of a crowd was off-putting. As if she’d been led into a cabal unwittingly, the doors locked behind her. Of course, she should have known. Ezra knew her parents. He knew thieves. He collected loot. The shock, then, was that he nurtured a youthful clientele; and as his crooks aged, he cast them adrift. She felt duped, but did it matter what designs he had on her, what plans he nurtured? Probably not. After Dietmar, she was probably done with stealing.

Leonard spoke of his own career as a small-time pusher. A separate education for Quinn. ‘I’m called a pusher, but who do I push? People phone me. They want what I’m selling. My biggest problem is sorting through customers to finger the narc. Like tugging on Santa’s beard to see if it’s real.’

‘That would be a problem.’

‘Strange thing, every pusher in this city is known to the cops. They could round us up. Only they don’t. Nobody cares. Soft dope is soft crime. Problem is, it’s hardened up.’

‘Meaning what?’ Quinn asked.

Leonard explained, ‘Used to be, we had our own sources. Grow-ops and import connections. The lines between suppliers and retail were wide open. Multiplied a thousand times over, small-time business is a big business waiting to happen. Who, do you think, could turn it into a big business?’

Not a difficult question. ‘The mob?’

‘The biker gangs, especially, once they took an interest. They’ve been coming after street dealers, forcing us to drop our old supply chains, adapt to the new. The “new” means the mob. Guys who resist enjoy three months in Montreal General to mend their broken bones. Their broken brains don’t heal. Their spirits? Forget about it. Get caught a second time and it’s six to nine months of hospital time and probably a lifetime of hobbling around. Some tough guys thought they could defend themselves. They bought guns. It got interesting. You think nobody is arrested for simple possession, but suddenly we have exceptions. Bikers advise the cops who to arrest. The guys who irritate the gangs are picked up off the streets, and when they’re free they either come out in a box or run with a wolf pack themselves.’

‘Not good,’ Quinn concurred. He seemed plugged in. She saw the world as Leonard portrayed it, as a battle between the young, the free and the loving, against the dictates of an evil regime. The evil regime – part gang, part police – won every battle. The young and the free now served villainous masters. Dawning on her was the notion that she might not be immune to a similar trajectory.

‘Used to be I bought and sold among friends,’ said Leonard.

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