Blossom - Andrew H. Vachss [34]
Virgil got to his feet. Lit a smoke, watching me closely. Not trying to stop it now.
"Listen close, Lloyd. Your aunt Rebecca, she knew a man back home. A bad man, with ugliness inside him. Rebecca met Virgil. And she started her life over. The way people got a right to, okay? She came to Chicago. She and Virgil, they got together. Got married. Virgil was working, this man came around to see Rebecca. She told him to get lost. But he kept coming back. He put some pressure on her. Virgil, you know him, he's a proud man. And Rebecca, she knew how proud a man he was. She wasn't thinking of herself, just of him. So when this other guy came back with some pictures…pictures she thought would hurt Virgil…he gave her a choice…get back together with him or he'd go to Virgil. You understand?"
The kid nodded, laser–focused on my voice, nothing else in the room for him.
"Rebecca stabbed him. A whole bunch of times. Virgil came home in the middle of it. Nobody knows whether he finished the job or if the man was dead when he walked in the door. Rebecca told the police she did it. Virgil told them it was his work. They kept it in their family—never told the Man the real truth. Never even tried to bring it in front of a jury. And Virgil went to prison."
I tapped a cigarette filter on my thumbnail. Virgil stood against the wall.
"What could they've done?"
"Who knows? I wasn't there. Put the body in a Hefty bag, throw it in the trunk of the car, take it to the city dump. Chop it into little pieces and feed it down the drain in the bathtub. Carry him up to the roof and leave him there. Pack their clothes, dump gasoline all over the body, and leave the Arson Squad to figure it out. Whatever. It doesn't matter. You try something, it don't work, you're no worse off, see? But Virgil, all he thought about was protecting Rebecca…and Rebecca, all she wanted to do was take the weight on herself. They never even got their stories straight, they was so busy confessing on themselves."
"Virgil was a…"
"A what? A hero? A chump? Who knows…all we know is he was a convict."
"I…"
"Yeah, he's so family–crazy, this was some regular killing he thought you did, he'd probably walk down to the police, tell them he did it. Like he did before."
"I wouldn't let him."
"Take a look, kid. Look at your uncle. You think you could stop him?"
The kid looked. Saw the steel Virgil used for bone marrow. "What d'we do?"
"What we do is, we make some plans. Work the angles. It doesn't play, you can always go to jail. They're always open for business."
"Uncle Virgil…?"
"Lloyd, from now on, you just call me Virgil. A man don't call another man uncle anything, okay?"
A smile flashed across the kid's face. Then it was gone. His face hardened, jaw tightened. Shoulders straightened. Getting ready for it. "Okay," is all he said.
40
I CALLED BART BOSTICK'S office the next morning. His secretary got him on the line when I told her I couldn't give my name.
"This is Bostick."
"Mr. Bostick, my name is Burke. I'm from New York. You're representing a boy named Lloyd. The kid charged with those sniper killings. There's been a change of plans. I need to come in, talk to you about it. Before I do that, you need to know who I am, whether you can trust me. My lawyer's name is Davidson. He's in New York. Manhattan. And the boy's aunt, Rebecca, if you'll go by and see her…don't call her on the phone…she'll tell you too. If you can do this today, I'll come by and see you tomorrow afternoon, okay?"
"You didn't give me your lawyer's phone number."
"I figured you'd want to look it up yourself. Maybe in Martindale–Hubbell. Make some calls yourself first. Know who you're talking to.
41
"IT'S ME" I told the hum on the phone line. It didn't answer. "Tell