A Vague Implication
by Darren Subarton
.......I was sitting in front
of her building in my Lincoln. The Old No. 7 was going down very
smoothly in this heat. Stakeouts and shakedowns - it seems like
that's all they've got me doing anymore. I forget why I even
started taking cases for the force by now. Probably the same
reason why I enlisted during the war -- I thought I could actually
make a difference. Funny how time changes but heals nothing.
One thing, though, doing deep DT work for the NYPD may be a headache
but you can't ever say you're really bored. Old No. 7 usually
keeps the rhetorical conversations flowing like supple prose.
.......I snuffed my toughest
mark about a month ago, though I can hardly sit here and think
about her like that. Let me tell you a little bit about Dalgis.
Jesus, she had to be the most beautiful creature I've ever seen
in my life. Why are the pretty ones always so messed up? The
truly lovely ones always have so much emotional baggage; that's
part of their appeal.
.......I first got assigned to
tailing Dalgis about 5 months ago. She was a prostitute but not
your everyday "$20 dollar grab-bag" type of whore.
She was one hell of a catch if you could grab her, but she was
too hot to contain.
.......I mean, you would have
understood if you saw her. She was about 5' 11", 135 pounds,
sexy hazel eyes, shoulder-length dirty-blond hair, olive skin
and the body of a hotty Puerto Rican firecracker. God, did she
have a set of eyes; they were large and in-charge. Every time
she looked into my eyes I felt like I had fallen in love a thousand
.......You see, the Commissioner
used to shag Dalgis, and she still worked as an informant for
him, had connections we couldn't have touched with a good luck
horseshoe wedged up our asses-hell, there's even rumors the Mayor
had a couple of dates with her. When I met her, she was
getting the goods for the Commissioner about Vincent Vidella,
a white-slavery trader who worked out of Chinatown. That guy
made shit smell pretty. Anyway, the Commissioner wanted her to
get information about a cash account Vidella had that none of
the NYPD's DTs could get close to. The account turned out to
be the Commissioner's own, or so the rumor went-part of a secret
deal the Commissioner set up with Vidella a few years back: kick-back
money. I was never filled in on the details and I never asked.
.......Dalgis decided to play
the Commissioner against Vidella and set herself up with a grande
supplement to her income. You never want to try'n screw over
the police, trust me; they practically invented the gangster
archetype. I never should've gotten involved with her, but if
you saw her, if you talked to herÖwell, you'd've known what
.......I think this was the hardest
job the force had me do so far. I've shaken down cripples for
running numbers, burned down buildings, taken protection money
off the newspapers, unions, kidnapped children, tailed chimo
priests to pedophile clubs, you name it. At one time or another
I've done some pretty rotten jobs for the department but this
was different, very different. There was something about her,
maybe the way she talked to me with those eyes? Jesus, she was
born to be a queen for kings and rulers of mighty nations. She
had it. She was a professional; she was like me, a lifer in
the game because she never had a choice.
.......Some guys don't like that
kind of thing -- you know, having a whore as a lover. A lot of
guys feel uncomfortable sharing their woman, they feel like they're
inadequate lovers. Not me, I love whores. There's no bullshit:
no flowers, no anniversaries, no excuses, no nothing. I could
be a midget in a cowboy suit or a freak with an arm hanging out
of my ass; with a whore, you're going to get laid no matter what.
I've never met a woman like her and I've slept with the best
money or threats could buy. Whores are my Achilles' heel;
they're the only other people besides cops and PIs that understand
how this crazy world works.
.......I've really got to tell
you about how we met. I couldn't help it, after tailing her for
a month I had to meet her. At first it was just the obvious infatuation
while filming her with my digital camcorder for reports. Then
I realized there was quite a bit more to her than just a hot
little skin-popper; she had innovation. So I used up a favor
having someone in bunko set me up a date with her. They told
her I was a businessman in the telecommunications industry, and
we met at the Plaza a few times. I still tailed her, turned in
my reports, ran business as business should be run. I started
looking into a few leads, just scraps of things on computer files
downtown, and asked a few questions to the right people. I found
a friend of Dalgis'.
.......Her friend's name was
Miss Cocoa, a transvestite fluffer for gay porno films. He also
moonlighted as a bouncer at a downtown sex club called Cocksure.
As it turned out, Miss Cocoa first met Dalgis about ten years
ago when she ran away from her father's serene Albany home. They
lived in a squat house together on the Lower East Side; the pre-Miss
Cocoa broke her into the porn industry, even did a few pictures
together. Miss Cocoa never got out of the film business. Dalgis
went on to tricking but the two stayed friends, very close friends;
they sometimes shared tricks and the needle.
.......When I met with Miss
Cocoa, he let me on to something that was about the last thing
I'd ever expected. Dalgis had been confiding in him for a while
about this john that was getting funny with her, one of her regular
dates. Miss Cocoa didn't know who, just that they were very powerful
in city government. The john was married with a wife and the
typical basket but was obsessed with her, wouldn't leave her
alone. Said the guy wanted to leave the square life behind, take
up with her. Said he knew it would cause a scandal if they married
now and told her he wouldn't do it with his wife swallowing air.
He asked Dalgis to kill her and when she refused and stopped
seeing him, she started getting threatening phone calls, thought
her phone was tapped, noticed that somebody was following her.
.......I slipped Miss Cocoa a
couple of bills and drove off. Was I the person Dalgis thought
was following her? I never noticed another tail over the
past several months and I'm good with things like that. I wanted
to call her. There were so many things I wanted to say, couldn't
say, couldn't understand. I looked for the catchwords and emotion,
searched deep and on high, but they were also lost. On my way
over to Reubinstein's for a bite to eat to think things through,
my beeper went off. It was the Commissioner. He wanted me to
meet him in half an hour at the Savoy Lounge on 11th Avenue.
.......The Commissioner dropped
the big one on me, said he wanted me to snuff Dalgis out. Said
she was going to expose some information that would turn the
NYPD, the Mayor's office, and three quarters of City Hall from
hole to shinola. Old No. 7 and I took a drive out to Wild Wild
West in Brooklyn, taking some time to think things out. "Wild
West" poured the best drinks for any strip bar I'd ever
been to and the girls were a class above the rest. It wasn't
like a typical Brooklyn strip house where anyone could take off
their clothes and get up and dance; these women were heartbreakers.
I always went there to think important things out, and this was
perhaps my toughest decision yet.
.......I didn't want to kill
her but I had to, it was my job. I couldn't imagine how to do
it to her. Usually I'd just walk up and put a bullet in their
head like they were a sick dog. Sometimes I'd burn their buildings
down, but that doesn't always work. Then it hit me. I'd make
a bomb. I'd blow her to dust, there'd be nothing left. No signs,
no memories, no grave to visit, nothingÖshe would be eliminated
off this earth. I couldn't stand it any other way. I
finished my drink, got a lap dance, and headed my car to the
Union Headquarters on Atlantic Avenue, downtown Brooklyn.
.......I have to shake the unions
down every couple months so I got to know a few of the bosses
pretty well. I even had one of the carpenter Locals send some
men over to my house and build a deck for me. Whenever I need
work done I always talk with the fellas; one hand washes the
other. I decided I'd build a bomb from Solidox, an oxidizing
agent that welders use for the hot flame to melt metal. It's
volatile and hard to trace, and I knew the union would
have a bunch lying around someplace. You can buy it at
most hardware stores if you have a license, but I wanted to see
how those guys were doing anyway. They were having some problems
with this organization, kind of like the black Mafia, called
the Black Coalition. The Black Coalition bosses would show up
on job sites and force foremen to take black workers over the
whites, using strong-arm tactics to get their point across. I
had to set up a couple of these Coalition guys to take a fall
for some malarkey, you know, shake them up a bit. After all,
that's why the unions are paying the force so well, and that's
why the force is taking care of me.
.......I picked up twenty sticks
of Solidox, some PVC, duct tape, and thirty bucks this guy owed
me on a bet from the Chavez fight two weeks before. On my way
home I picked up a pound of sugar and a six-pack of Miller. The
Miller was to drink, and the sugar was the bomb's energy source.
Six sticks would've been fine but I wanted the job to be done
right, that's why I used fifteen. I couldn't even imagine the
mischance of only blowing her partly up, crippling her for life;
I'd seen too much of that during the war and it still sickens
me. I wanted to make sure she was going off to a better place
than this one. Whores always go to heaven; they have to put up
with too much crap here to go anywhere different. Like I said,
they're enlightened, some of the few who truly understand the
defunct machinery of human nature.
.......When everything was set,
I called her and made plans to meet at the Plaza again. Once
we were in the room I'd run out for a pack of smokes and blow
half the floor up. With any luck, I'd take out some aristocratic
assholes and their pretentious wives too. I thought again
of her eyes and her laugh; oh how I loved that laugh. She
had a different giggle, a giggle like lovers have. I thought
of her curves and silk-like flesh, so temptable and corrupting,
.......When it came time to kill
her, everything worked perfectly. We were in the room and she
started to draw some bath water. I told her I was running down
to the lobby to buy some smokes and slipped the bomb under the
bed before leaving the room. I blew the living hell out of her
and the 9th Floor. The Commissioner was happy with a job well
done, he told me, handing me a padded envelope. He said he would've
even put me in for a letter of commendation if it were under
different circumstances. Just like the Army-I got my medals for
doing the dog's work, the bottom-feeding job of killing innocents
and coined enemy. Same jobÖjust a different battleground.
.......I was pretty thorough
with my clean-up: they found Miss Cocoa in a dumpster near the
west-side piers, and the desk clerk at the Plaza left town without
notice. I also found out a little more about that john that was
following Dalgis, and realized that the whole thing
was a vague implication, a slight of justice that would have
slipped through the cracks like so much else in this system.
It never had anything to do with the NYPD, the Mayor, City Hall
or anyone else; just an animal, worse than a crab on a convict's
balls in a dirty Tijuana dungeon. I have the john's car
wired; tomorrow morning the Commissioner is going to burn
in hell as soon as he starts his ignition. It's a lonely dark
place there -- I know, I'm already living in my own.
Copyright (c) 2001 by Darren Subarton
lives in Brooklyn, NY, with his Congo African Grey parrot, Simone,
slinging do-dirty noir fiction and breaking hearts internationally
with his poetry. His poems and short stories have been showcased
in such magazines as Hardboiled, Blue Murder Magazine,
Plots With Guns, The Mississippi Review Online,
Aura Literary Arts Review, Fat Tuesday, New
York Hangover, Global Tapestry Journal, Futures,
and 12-Gauge Review.
Recently submitted for Edgar consideration
and inclusion in the Best American Mystery Fiction and Best American
Short Stories anthologies, he currently writes bar reviews for
12-Gauge Review, and various freelance assignments in
the Internet, streaming, wireless technology markets.
He can be reached for questions or comments
And head here for more Thrilling Detective Fiction!
Please direct further comments and
inquiries about submissions to the fiction
editor, or check out this page.
"And I'll tell you right out that I'm a man who likes talking
to a man that likes to talk."
| Table of Contents | Detectives
| Film | Radio | Television | Comics | FAQs |
| Trivia | Authors | Hall
of Fame | Mystery Links | Bibliography | Glossary | Search |
New: On The Site | On
the Street | Fiction | Staff | The
P.I. Poll |