Trapped in Glass by Pam Records

Author:Pam Records [Records, Pam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MP Records Communications
Published: 2021-10-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Arnie watched The Corner’s back door from the alley. He leaned against a trash dumpster, trying to stay in the shadows. That wasn’t hard to do. One streetlamp on the corner and a few lights from windows here and there along the street were the only feeble sources of light. Thick clouds covered the moon, too, making the darkness seem heavier.

He was tired of waiting. He lit a cigarette, covering the match with his other hand hiding the end of the lit cigarette in his palm, like they did during the war. Some habits were hard to break. But this end of the street was empty. Word was out about the kid being hurt. Even though The Corner was officially open, seemed most of the regulars were keeping their distance. Something about luck or superstition, he supposed. These Polacks were odd with their Old Country horseshit. That’s what made them so hard to deal with…

Then again, no one wants to come face-to-face with a man on the edge of tragedy. Who could stand to look at him, knowing his world might be falling apart soon? He wondered if Poles prayed for healing from God like his people did. Or did they just rely on their jars of homemade medicines and nonsense?

Arnie wasn’t too keen on running into that poor man, Bear, either. What could he say to him? Sorry? Tough break about the kid? Maybe he could avoid him. Arnie’s business tonight was with Stach. He had agreed to break up the odd-looking cement in the cellar. The newsstand man was a strange one. Arnie wasn’t sure why the man was so intent on sticking his nose in this business. What was it to him who took over the place? Unless—

Maybe he has something to hide? Maybe he was the one—

Arnie thought about that possibility as he finished his cigarette. He didn’t think the fancy man, with his derby and old tuxedo shirt, had it in him to do away with a man, even a conniving, smartass, no-good bastard like Joey. He was even a lousy brother.

So why was the newsman so worried about the patch of rough cement in the cellar?

Arnie was curious. And he planned to play along just to see how far these imbeciles would take this folly. It might be a hoot, watching them trying to out-maneuver him. Why not? He leaned back on the brick wall, his mind wandering to how the whole mess might play out. He pictured it: He’d solve the old case, break up a few barrels of whiskey for show, board up the doors, get some attention from the brass, maybe a handshake from the chief—or the mayor.

Then, he’d just re-open the place as his own—a gift from his brother who asked him to take over for him. He could see himself sitting at the end of the long bar, nodding yes or no whether a fella should be served the good batch or the take-your-chances batch made in some Sicilian’s bathtub.

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