Philadelphia Noir - Carlin Romano [28]
“You think I killed her? Jaysus, Kilpatrick. You are a piece of work. You think I give a shite about that whore, Millie Price? She could have taken that kid of hers and gone down into the gutter to live. That’s where she belonged.”
“Where’s the kid, Billy?”
“How the hell should I know? You got it all wrong, as usual, Kilpatrick. You’ll never learn. Trying so hard to be something you’re not.”
“And what’s that?”
“A fucking martyr. A pathetic fucking martyr. But even a dumb shite like me knows there’s no such thing as a live martyr.”
I came around the fence and Haggerty’s gang circled us. I recognized most of them. Jimmy Connors and Chris Dougherty looked inseparable, as if they were still sixteen and just snuck out of the house with their father’s quarts in their pants. Denis McNulty was the biggest of the crew, leaning against the fence with the fingers of one meaty paw hooked onto the chain link.
“I don’t presume to judge you, Billy Haggerty. But don’t expect me to agree with your way of thinking.”
“You always pick the wrong side. Don’t you. Deny your people, your family. This is your fucking home, Kilpatrick, and you won’t lift a finger to save it. Just don’t get in our way. We’ll show you no mercy.”
“You can’t build a wall down the middle of this neighborhood, Billy.”
“Watch me.” His finger was pointed at my chest as if it were a loaded gun. “And one more thing you’d want to know before you leave. I have from a reliable source that not only has this rooster Nathaniel Jeffers been banging my ex-wife, word is he’s the trigger man what put down your old friend, Charlie Melvyn. Now ain’t that a kicker, boyo?”
Chris Dougherty crossed himself and they all laughed and my fists went white at my sides. I looked at Billy Haggerty and our eyes locked and at that moment it was like no one else in Grays Ferry mattered, like it was just the two of us and we were telling the whole world to go fuck themselves. Not knowing where else to look, I turned my gaze to the Philadelphia skyline in the distance, the dark sky behind it like a black veil.
“One more for the road, boys?”
They all shuffled back inside the Golden Rose and left me alone on the deserted sidewalk.
I walked a few aimless blocks until I found myself in front of the twenty-four-hour laundromat with its fluorescent lights shining through the glass and the dryers whirring inside and a fat old black lady thumbing the pages of a worn newspaper on the bench. The stairwell to the second floor smelled like piss but it didn’t matter. I reached around to the small of my back and pulled out the Glock that had been gathering dust in a drawer since the day I left the Philadelphia Police Department. I took a deep breath and kicked in the door.
I was face-to-face with Nathaniel Jeffers. He didn’t move. He was younger than I thought he’d be but not childlike in his appearance. He had short cropped hair over a broad forehead and a thin mustache and the body of an athlete. I pointed the gun at his chest, holding it with two hands, my arms thrust out in front of me, my grip beginning to tremble. The look in his eyes seemed to say that he knew why I was there, that he knew it wasn’t because of Millie Price or their son or Billy Haggerty or all the bullshit that defined him as black and me as white. It was because of Charlie Melvin, and Nathaniel Jeffers knew it.
“Did you kill Charlie Melvyn?”
“Who?”
“The old man in front of the barber shop.”
His lips were sealed firmly across his face but I had my answer in the way he stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and the way he shrugged his shoulders and ground his teeth. He was a typical Philly liar, I thought. The truth made him squirm.
My fingers curled around the trigger and the hammer slowly lifted from its seat, and in my mind I heard the voice of Johnny Izzard telling me how once I pulled the trigger, everything would change, my legacy with the Philadelphia Police Department, the reasons I became a cop, and the reasons I left. But it was too late to think about regrets. I owed this