Vengeful Victims

ONE

You should see the guy that they hired this week, said Winston. A guy by the name of Eddie. Eddie Port something. I’ll tell you; it sure is hard getting good help nowadays. You have to practically beg these young people to do every little thing. I caught this clown going through the glove box of a Buick trade-in today, and he just claimed he was cleaning it out. I bet you he would clean out my wallet too, if I left it anywhere but my back pocket.

Oh Winston, you never did trust the younger generation. We were all young once; you seem to forget that fact.

Things were different back then. If the guy wanted a job in our day, he’d have to prove himself mighty quick, or somebody else would be waiting in the wings. Besides, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that this boy wonder is actually sleeping in one of the cars at night. I can’t prove it, but if I were a betting man, I’d give you three to one odds!

Oh Winston, give the young man a chance. After all, you said that he’s only been working with you for a few days now. Right?

Yeah? Well, I consider myself to be a good judge of character, especially with first impressions!

Man, this job is definitely not paying what I’m worth, complains Eddie Portnoy. And besides that, you ever try sleeping in one of these newer Buick’s? Give me a 1974 deuce and a quarter. You could easily fit a family of five comfortably in a ride like that. Besides, there’s this old guy named Winston working there. He’s a salesman, but I swear that he’s shadowing me around. Every time I turn around, there he is! He seems more like a probation officer than a damned car salesman. I’d like to knock the old fart out, but then I’d be back to square one. I`ve gotta keep this job for now, until something better comes my way, you know?

Yeah, I know. I know you’re unskilled and probably overpaid, says Mickey. You outta meet my probation officer. Then you’d be glad when you get to work. I’m sure that this Winston guy can’t be all bad. You’ve been working at this dumpy car lot almost a full week now, haven’t you?

Yeah, well, it seems like a month is all I’m saying. Besides, how long until you get a gig? Another 10 days and no more probation for me. If anybody hires me, I’m gonna try to go straight. What do you think the chances are that that will happen?

Sylvia is opening the oven door just as Bruce is coming through the apartment door. Perfect timing, announces Sylvia. I hope you’re hungry.

I was hungry until I saw this. Sylvia warily looks at the letter that Bruce is holding. She knows who it’s from before she even sees the return address. Then she glances at Bruce’s face and the return address simultaneously. She figured as much! Clyde writes often now. Too often! Well, says Bruce. Let’s just eat first while I still have an appetite.

Sylvia felt much better only 15 minutes earlier. Now she has a very queasy stomach. We’ll open the letter later, she says. Now let’s eat!

As they take their seats, Bruce goes on to explain the latest news from the funeral home where he works. I’ll tell you what. Just when you think you’ve seen it all, the strangest thing happens. It seems that the back room of the parlor is getting hit. You know, where the flowers are delivered. Three florists called us today. They all claim that their drivers delivered the funeral pieces, but we never even received them, which means that somebody is simply walking in and helping themselves. In other words, they probably resell them down the street to another florist. Sylvia, please tell me, what’s this world coming to?

Oh well; now finish supper. Then there’s more bad news. We still have to open that envelope, you know.

Stanley Fontaine is feeling pretty good tonight. He has about $44 in his pocket. Chump change, really. The good news is that if you figured it out on paper, it only took him about 45 minutes to an hour to earn it. That’s about $40 an hour to be exact. What a way to go! He knows two important facts, though. That funeral home is either gonna lock their back door, or call the police. Then they’ll be watching the place. So much for that steady job. Besides, Sicky doesn’t like it when his clothes smell so fragrant. He almost smells like some cheap perfume. If anybody even looks at him funny, he’ll knock ‘em out first before they can even get a whiff. Time to lay low for a few days. Maybe the delivery drivers will be dumb enough to leave the truck running with the doors unlocked like he’s seen them do before. Then he can drive away before they know what hit `em. If he pulls that off, it could probably mean a lot more than 40 bucks!

Hi Nancy, says Neil Metcalf, as he approaches the apartment building where they both live on two separate floors.

Oh, hello Neil, says Nancy, who never forgets a name. What’s the latest from the animal kingdom?

It’s not good news, I’m afraid, replies Neil. The darndest thing happened today. I took a black lab out for a short walk today. There happens to be a small park not too far from the office. Anyway, I leave Pepper tied up to the slide for only about 2 1/2 minutes as I stepped into the washroom. As I’m coming back outside, I see a young fellow running with the dog about a half block ahead of me. I yell, Stop! This never seems to work on the cops show, or any other time for that matter. Of course, this just makes him run faster. A lot of good that did! At my age, it would be crazy to even try to chase that guy. By the time I got to the next block and turn the corner, you guessed it! He was long gone. He simply disappeared into thin air. It was as if he never even existed in a way. No dog, no nothing. You could imagine my disappointment and embarrassment upon returning to work. What a crazy day!

Damn, says Mickey Mayfield, completely out of breath as he walks into the vacant storefront at 45th and Newbury Avenue. Man, I have done some crazy things in my day, but this has to be in the top five.

What’s with the dog? asks Eddie Portnoy. He doesn’t bite, does he?

He probably would have by now, says Mick.

Seems like a nice enough mutt, though, says Eddie. Besides, where’s he from?

You wouldn’t believe it if I told you anyhow.

Try me, says Eddie.

Okay, you know how I told you that I only had about 10 more days of probation left? Yeah, well, this might have been bad timing on my part, but I couldn’t resist. This old guy was walking his dog over by Roscoe Park, and all of a sudden, he ties the dog to the slide, and then ducks into the bathroom. I walk right up to the dog, and he seems friendly enough, you know. So I go to pet him. I looked toward the bathroom door and the old buzzard was still in there, so in about 5 seconds, I’ve got the leash untied and now I`m off and running. Within another 15 seconds or so, I hear someone yell stop. Can you believe it? That shit doesn’t even work on that cops TV show. This guy couldn’t have thought that it would work today, could he?

Roy Jensen is tired, sweaty, and just wants to get home. He’s had a long day at the junkyard and wants nothing more than a shower and his traditional three cans of Miller high life beer before eating dinner. The last thing he wants now is small talk with any of the neighbors at 5128 Archer Lane on this particular day, or any other day for all he cares. But now, of course, here comes that busy-body from directly upstairs. What’s her name? Judy or Trudy, or something like that. Before he can get to his door, Hi Roy, how’s business?

Okay, I guess. Same old, same old.

I suppose there will always be junk, right? One man’s junk is another man’s treasure, I suppose.

Yeah, that’s what they say. Is your husband still driving over the road?

That’s what he tells me when he gets home every so often. I suppose he wouldn’t lie about a thing like that though.

No, I suppose not. Well, I’ve got to get these dirty clothes off. I will see you around the building. I suppose.

Okay Roy, nice talking to you. Maybe next time we could get together for a cup of coffee or something.

Okay, we’ll see. Goodbye then.

Hey pigeon. Were you been all week? I got a job! Believe it or not. I’m working clear over on the other side of town. It’s a dirty job but somebody’s got to do it.

Yeah, better you than me, says Cal Stevik. Besides, what kind of work you doin` anyway?

Actually, I got a job at a junkyard and they`re paying me nine dollars an hour to start. Not bad, huh?

Not bad considering the fact that you gotta travel to get there. It’s only a half hour by the time the buses come.

I’m trying to get on this guy Roy’s good side. Then maybe I can catch a ride with him. He runs the crusher. You should see this thing. It could crush any car, van, and maybe even a small truck. Anyway, this guy Roy is probably twice my age and doesn’t really say much. But I think that if I get on his good side, then he’ll come around. I could always offer him my bus fare, and if he’s coming home this way, then what’s he got to lose?

Maybe his wallet, or car keys, says Cal. Who knows?

"Man, what you gotta talk

like that for? I just got the job, man. At least let a guy get back on his feet now."

Yeah, I heard that before, says Cal.

Hey, Ed, yells Paula, at the bathroom door. If you fall in, it’s gonna take more than little old me to pull you out.

Yeah yeah, sure thing, replies Edwin. I suppose it’s time to get you to the hospital. I’m sure that it would close down if you ever took a day off; God forbid. Then I`d have to spend all day with you. You don’t really want any of that action, do you?

That’s okay, baby, some other time. Let’s just get going. Edwin Boyle steps out of the bathroom and into his flannel jacket like he’s done a thousand times before. Driving Paula to the hospital is a routine that he doesn’t even think about. He just does it three times a week, and never really complains. Paula really enjoys going there and seems to get along with just about everybody who crosses her path. They both get into Edwin’s car. It’s an older Cadillac that he bought about a month after retiring. He still likes driving a big car and always has. He sometimes wonders who will last longer, the Caddy or him? I’ll be sure to pick you up on time, Paula. You just try to be ready, okay?

Always, says Paula. Even though she’s been guilty of stopping to talk on occasion, and has sometimes left Edwin sitting outside in the car, wondering what’s going on.

Linc Alonzo just doesn’t feel right. It all started about four or maybe five days ago. He woke up with bad stomach cramps and ever since that morning, something still isn’t right. He has no medical insurance to speak of, and isn’t even working at the moment. He sure would like to go see a doctor, but he knows that he can’t pay the bills with only his good looks as collateral. He has to do something soon though. Now it’s really starting to get to him. If the illegals can walk into any emergency room in the country, then why can’t he? He suddenly makes the decision to go to Good Samaritan Hospital, since it’s only a little more than a mile from where he’s staying. Who knows, maybe the walk will do him good. Sittin` around sure doesn’t seem to help. He’ll just say that he lost his job about a week ago and that he thought that he was still insured for the rest of the month. That might just do the trick, he figures. He approaches the hospital and makes his way through the revolving door. His stomach is still the same. He talks to a receptionist and is finally told to have a seat. Two hours later, he is approached by an older woman wearing a pink smock. It has the word volunteer stitched across the pocket. Paula Boyle proceeds to escort her new patient to a small cubicle down the hall. Thanks, Lincoln mutters.

Nancy Cordoba doesn’t mind walking. She still has two good legs, and hasn`t had any foot problems to speak of in quite a few years. She doesn`t own a car and has never even driven one. When her husband Sam died almost twenty years ago, she sold his old car within a week. She doesn’t ask for rides or any favors. She is totally independent and wants to keep it that way. On this overcast day, she will walk the four and a half blocks to Pete’s Food for Less and carry what she can in her old fashioned cart. That’s what legs are for, she figures. Walking along while day-dreaming of her long-gone husband, she almost doesn’t notice the long-haired young person coming towards her `till it’s too late. As Zeke Collins approaches her, he suddenly bends down to tie his shoe just at the right time. He’s tried this trick before, and it`s worked more than once. When the old lady passes, he grabs at the two wheeled cart she’s pulling. As she pulls back instinctively, like he knew she would, he immediately makes a grab for what he’s really after. Her old blue purse. As Nancy pulls back hard, he lets both things go at the same time. Of course, Nancy falls backwards, just like he knew she would. He sweeps in at the exact time and now the blue purse is finally his.

Zeke, the freak, Collins is now totally out of breath. He never was much of a jogger, but he knows he has his age going for him. He ditched the purse only about five minutes ago and is now almost home free. If you can call a vacant storefront a home, that is. Sicky is lying down on a weather-beaten old couch as the freak comes in, all out of breath. Where’s the marathon? asks Sicky. This ain’t Boston.

No shit, Sherlock, says the freak. Just out for a little jog. What’s wrong with that?

You’re jogging about as often as I’m helping little old ladies cross the street. What’s really happenin’,` dude? Freak can’t lie to Sicky. He never was a good liar; that’s for sure.

Okay, can you keep a secret?

Does it really matter? asks Sicky.

I was just out for a little fresh air. Sightseeing, you know. As I bend down to tie my shoe, this old broad proceeds to walk right into me. She trips right over me, and practically drops her purse right into my lap. As I get up to hand it back to her, she starts backing up and lets out this bloodcurdling scream. Then I decide to take a jog back here with an extra forty-two dollars for my trouble. How was your day?

Gerald and Abigail Radcliff lead a very quiet life. Gerald is hard of hearing and is one of those people who avoid the doctor. According to Gerald, the doctor needs new golf clubs, and Gerald isn’t going to be the one who pays for them. For the most part, Abigail has to yell every sentence twice until Gerald even looks her way. Would you like to take me to the store, old man? asks Abby.

What`s wrong with the door? asks Gerald.

The store! shouts Abby.

What about the floor? he asks.

Now Abby knows he’s acting silly. You might not hear me the first time, Gerald, but the second time I have to say it, you’ll be sleeping on the couch. Understand?

Promises, promises, says Gerald. I should be so lucky tonight.

Let’s go to the market before they close, okay?

I don’t need new clothes! shouts Gerald. They finally get their coats on and they both walk out the door. Another thrilling afternoon for the Radcliffs. They get to the store just before the supper rush. As they grab a shopping cart, they notice a young man ahead of them walking down the aisle where the alcohol is kept. They both see it at the same time. The guy places the biggest bottle of booze inside of his coat.

Ziggy Romano thinks he can steal anything he wants. It’s all about timing and he knows it. The only thing that he doesn’t know is that an older couple behind him has just witnessed a crime. They both know what they saw, and look at each other in amazement. They try to act casual as they make their way to the produce aisle. They know that the assistant manager is usually stocking this department, and they would like nothing more than to bring this fact to his attention. As they round the corner of aisle two, there he is. Mrs. Radcliff tries to be matter-of-fact as she whispers to the gentleman, A man just stole a big bottle of liquor in the next aisle, and we both thought that you should know. Mr. Radcliff has a bad habit of staring at people for some odd reason, and that’s just what he does when Ziggy turns the corner. Gerald seems to have a funny look on his face. When he’s nervous, a slight smile will sometimes appear. Just as Ziggy is approached by the assistant manager, the Radcliffs almost bump into each other turning the same corner. Ziggy finally puts two and two together and now he knows exactly what’s going on. He takes his index finger and slowly runs it across his own throat while staring back at the Radcliffs.

Charlie Salerno is almost home free. He’s been gone for three and a half days now, and can’t wait to get out of his truck. He really misses his wife Judith and his comfy apartment. In another twenty minutes, he’ll finally be climbing that one flight of steps to two-west, his place. He sure hopes that Judith is as happy to see him as he will be to see her. Judith, however, is still thinking about her neighbor directly downstairs when Charlie walks in. Hey baby, how did you manage without me?

I don’t know, Charlie. It just doesn’t seem possible.

Yeah, sure. Whatever you say. Come on, I’m just kiddin`. I’ve missed you somethin` awful. Just glad to be back in one piece, says Charlie. Don’t worry, baby, we`ll have to celebrate later. Remind me. It seems that no matter how much Judith misses her husband, she just can’t stop thinking about Roy Jensen downstairs. When he implied that he just wanted to get his dirty clothes off, Judith could actually picture herself running the hot water for him. She still continues to run this scene through her mind as Charlie looks at her and says, You haven’t even heard a word that I said. Whatever is on your mind?

You wouldn’t believe it if I told you, mumbles Judith. Charlie just shakes his head and makes his way into the shower.

Cal Stevik is jumpy. Extremely jumpy! He’s on his bike, and he’s lookin` for an opportunity. Any little thing will have to do. An open car door would certainly be inviting. A swinging purse would sure be a welcome sight. If he could just make one small score of some kind. Just to hold him over for another day or two. He’s been on his bike now for over an hour and nothing has really presented itself yet. Come on, come on, he says aloud. As he rides his bike up and down the side streets, he casually looks into car windows. He acts as innocent as he can. He suddenly thinks he sees a cell phone sitting in a Ford Taurus. He immediately circles back around the block in broad daylight. He sure can’t chance breaking in at this time of day. The car appears to be locked but he will remember what block it`s on. He will possibly return later tonight. He’ll be back. That’s for sure. As he turns the corner onto Fifty-First Street and Archer Lane, he suddenly sees it. A very big sleeper truck. A big purple Kenworth! He hurriedly stashes his bike around the corner in the alley, and then casually walks up to the big rig. He just can’t believe his luck. The passenger side door is open, and suddenly, he’s got the lucky break that he hoped for. He’s now inside the truck but he realizes that time is not really on his side.

TWO

Eddie`s back is sore, very sore. Sleeping in a different car every night is finally taking its toll on poor Eddie Portnoy. Trouble is, even working full time and making roughly two hundred forty dollars after taxes each week, it would still be quite some time to save up enough cash for an apartment. That’s not even including the security deposit needed just to get your foot in the door, literally speaking. Now all Eddie can hope for is to get in good with Winston, and maybe catch a ride back and forth from the car lot each day. Eddie is daydreaming as Winston approaches him. Are you going to finish washing this Chevy any time soon? he asks. I’ve got some Asian guy coming here shortly. He says that he wants to take a test drive. I’d sure like to sell this car today, if you don’t mind.

I’ll be finished faster than a racehorse in heat. Don’t you worry.

Okay then, I’ll be back in about forty-five minutes. Hopefully, the Asian won’t get here first.

No problem, huh? Winston, is that your name?

Yeah, and I don’t even smoke.

Hey, that’s good news. By the way, when you go home, do you go my way? Towards 45th Street?

Yeah, why?

I thought that maybe I could catch a ride sometime. I’d even throw you a little cash for gas.

We`ll see, says the old man.

Winston can’t even believe that he’s actually driving this guy home. He really hates being put on the spot, but that’s exactly what seemed to happen just a few hours ago. This clown Eddie sure caught him off guard this time. That’s all. Well, at least he sold that Chevy Lumina to Charlie Chan. That will mean an extra hundred fifty dollars in commission on Winston’s check on Friday. At least Eddie made an effort cleaning that car up nice. It really looked presentable, that’s for sure. The only bad news is that Eddie won’t be sleeping in that car tonight. Winston’s curiosity has now gotten the best of him. Where is he taking this guy anyway? Well Eddie, where to?

I’m going to Forty-Fifth and Newbury. How about you?

I’m going as far as 51st and Archer. That’s all. But today is your lucky day. Today, I’ll take you all the way to 45th Street.

You know what? Don’t even bother. I’ll just hoof the extra six or seven blocks. I kinda need the exercise.

Are you sure? It’s no bother. I’ve got an extra ten minutes to kill.

No thanks, but I sure appreciate the ride though.

Okay buddy, have it your way.

By the way, Winston, if I’m standing on Fifty-First Street at, say, 7:30 tomorrow morning, could you maybe give a poor guy a ride?

Okay, if I spot you. Bye!

Bruce and Sylvia are opening Clyde`s letter. After all, he is still their son. You can pick your friends, but not your immediate family, Bruce says often. Clyde claims that this time will be different, if they just give him a chance. He should be out in about three weeks. Clyde just hopes everything goes right, including the job placement program that he’s heard about. He says that he should only need about six to eight months with them. Then he should be able to make it on his own. He’ll show them. Just one last chance is all that he requests. He’s starting fresh. A new beginning of sorts. All Bruce can do now is shake his head. He’s heard this song and dance more than once before. He also knows that Sylvia will probably give in like she’s done more than once before. Oh well, what the hell. Sylvia, by the way, I’ve got to be at the parlor a little early tomorrow. A detective wants to talk to me about that flower caper. Just to see if I saw anything out of the ordinary, you know.

Well, whatever you’ve got to do; even though you didn’t really see anything, did you?

I didn’t see any flowers, if that’s what you mean.

Well, I don’t see what that will accomplish. Anyway, I guess even Clyde wouldn’t stoop that low. He wouldn’t steal flowers from a funeral home, would he?

I would certainly hope not, says Bruce.

Sicky is at it again. Now he’s casing out all of the funeral homes within a three-mile radius. He knows that sooner or later, it doesn’t matter which, some flower driver will screw up. Then Sicky will score some of those pretty flowers for a short time until he can unload them at another flower shop. He’ll be selling anywhere from a seventy-five to a two-hundred-dollar funeral piece for roughly $30. Give or take. These flower shops always seem to make a profit. That’s what they do. Sicky knows a cop when he sees one, and now there’s one heading over to that same funeral home that he had hit only two days ago. Time to go the other way! He sure doesn’t want to look suspicious now, that’s for sure.

Meanwhile: I’m Detective McMurphy. You can call me Jack.

Hi Jack. I’m Bruce Fairbanks. I was here a couple of days ago. That’s when the flowers walked away. I don’t know how that could have happened. It’s never happened before, as long as I’ve been here.

Well, I’ve gotta ask you if you saw anything out of the ordinary that day. Anything different?

Not that I recall, says Bruce. The only thing different now is that I keep the back door locked. I sure wouldn’t want any bodies walking away. Then we’d really be in trouble, wouldn’t we?

There’s only a few months to go, and now look what’s happened! Neil Metcalf has some explaining to do. Pepper’s owners are coming to the animal hospital, as well as a Detective Powell. Everybody wants to know what happened at Roscoe Park, and Neil`s not even sure himself. It all happened so fast. What will he say? He should have never left that dog alone. He knows company policy. It’s his own fault. He could be fired. He only has three months until retirement. It just doesn’t make sense. Hi, I`m Dan Powell. Neil snaps out of it. He didn’t even see the cop come in.

Oh, officer, I’m sorry. I didn’t even know you were here. You startled me.

I’m sorry, says Dan. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. No interruption! Okay, you claim that you were using the facilities at Roscoe Park, when somebody snatched the dog?

Exactly, that’s what happened all right.

But did you get a good look at the offender by chance?

To tell the truth, he got a good head start. The guy must have been a lot younger than me. I believe he was wearing a brown jacket, though. That much I could see from a distance.

Anything else, Neil?

Yeah, when are Pepper’s owners coming? That’s gonna be the hard part.

Now Mickey Mayfield has this dog, and doesn’t really know what to do. The sensible thing would be to try and sell it, but to who? He just can’t keep the dog. Two mouths to feed – it’s not in the picture at this time. What was he thinking? Now he’s in a real jamb. What to do? Just take the dog for a walk and see what happens next. But surely somebody is looking out for a medium-sized black mutt. He’s almost sure of it. He’ll just have to walk in the opposite direction of Roscoe Park; that’s all! A splendid idea. Maybe he’ll walk down to Oakley Park instead, where a lot of dog walkers go. He’ll just blend in with all of the other people doing the same thing as he is. Maybe he could kinda trade dogs with somebody? That’s it! What a great idea! Just find some sucker to trade dogs. This way, he’ll get a dog that nobody’s looking for, and the dummy he trades will unwittingly have a hot dog. Get it? A hot dog. Mickey almost laughs out loud. Just as he turns the corner, he sees it. A spittin` image of this dog up ahead. Oh my God, thinks Mickey. This could actually be a dog from the same litter. What luck. Now all he’s gotta do is pull the old switch-aroo. But how? There`s simply gotta be a way. He’ll just have to think this one out.

Roy Jensen is daydreaming again. Not a very smart thing to do when operating a heavy- duty machine such as the crusher. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that the lady upstairs (he’s still not sure of her name) was trying to put the make on him. The last thing that he needs now is to get involved with some truck driver’s wife. Well, maybe she’s not too old. She seems to be in her early fifties and not too bad on the eyes after all. Oh well, it’s almost lunch time anyway. Just one or two more cars to pulverize and then he’ll take his thirty minutes to eat. It’s just a real shame that he has to crush this particular car. It’s a 1966 Chevy Impala. It just so happens that Roy’s first car ever was a used Chevy. Same year, same color, only a two door. This one has four. As Roy sets up the giant forks that angle the car into its last resemblance of anything driveable, Kenny Janovic is shouting up at him. Roy can’t quite make out what he’s yelling, so he signals him to wait a minute. He continues what he’s doing as Kenny sits down on an old engine block. After the Chevy gets crushed to ten percent of its original size, Roy finally turns the crusher off. Kenny then proceeds to ask Roy a question. How about if I buy you lunch?

I`d hate to ruin your day, buddy, but it just so happens that four out of five times a week, I bring my lunch with me.

Well, says Kenny, don’t ever say that I didn’t offer you a freebie.

Thanks anyway for the offer.

No problem; just tell me what day you don’t bring anything and the offer`s still on. Kenny knows that he’ll have to get on the guy’s good side if there’s any chance of getting a ride back and forth to work. Besides, there isn’t really much to steal in a junkyard. Only things that are small enough to fit