Blood Oranges (9781101594858) by Tierney Kathleen; Kiernan Caitlin R

Author:Tierney, Kathleen; Kiernan, Caitlin R.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin USA
Published: 2013-01-10T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIVE

THE BLUNDERBUSS, BOSTON HARRY, AND THE BEAST

I’ve never much cared for dream sequences in books. Well, to be fair, speaking of those books I’ve read that have included dream sequences, I’ve never cared for them. For the dream sequences. Not even sure I can explain why. Mostly, if I set my mind to it, I suspect I dislike dream sequences, as portrayed in books, because I don’t think they resemble actual dreams. Dream sequences in books have always seemed to me like pointing to one of those little green plastic Monopoly houses and hoping people will mistake it for the Taj Mahal. And maybe there are some people who’d accept the one for the other. Just don’t number me among them. Anyway, this is my long-ass winded way of saying that a couple of days after learning of Clemency’s death (or whatever), I had a dream. And I suppose it was portentous, and I could pause to read all manner of things into it. Maybe the Bride’s hoodoo had left me a dash of the second sight, or maybe it was a parting gift from a demon whore, slipped into me on a kiss. I didn’t know then, and I don’t know now.

I dreamed of Mr. B sitting there in his booth at Babe’s on the Sunnyside, with this row of dominoes lined up on the table in front of him. Hector was there, and the other guys from my street. Mr. B knocked over one domino, and watched as the others dutifully fell, one after the next.

Pretty lousy dream, yeah.

When I woke from the dream, it was late in the day, only a couple of hours until sunset. I sat in my bedroom awhile, smoking and staring at the wall and listening to WRIU on the radio. Then I wandered into the front room and peered out through the curtains. The boys were playing dominoes on the sidewalk, just like usual (loop back to the dream, so I stared at them a moment). And then I noticed what was parked by the curb. My fucking car was parked there, the Honda I hadn’t seen since that night out at the Reservoir, that night I had my run-in with Grumet and the Bride. Someone had even gone to the trouble of having it washed (though, frankly, that only made it look that much dingier).

Could’ve been Mr. B, that was my first thought. But that didn’t make much sense, not really, and so my second thought, returning the car, that must have been Mercy Brown’s doing. Who the hell else was there left to suspect? Sure, I reasoned, Mercy Brown, she must have minions of her own. Alice Cregan couldn’t have been the long and short of it. No doubt, there was a whole clique of little shits who did her bidding, and one of them had been told to bring the car back to me. As to the why, I hadn’t the foggiest idea.

I found the Ray-Bans and slipped them on.

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