Blue Smoke

listening. He was wearing a name tag that said: Dennis.
    “Dennis, why don’t you take over at the counter for a few, while Mrs. Pastorelli takes a little break?”
    “I gotta do stock.”
    “Paid by the hour, aren’t you? Watch the counter.” O’Donnell walked back. “Why don’t we step outside, Mrs. Pastorelli? It’s a nice day.”
    “You can’t make me. You can’t.”
    “It’ll be more difficult if we have to come back,” Reena said quietly. “We don’t want to have to speak to your supervisor, or make this any more complicated for you.”
    Saying nothing, Laura came out from behind the counter, walked outside with her head bowed. “He paid. Joe paid for what happened. It was an accident. He’d been drinking and it was an accident. Your father pushed him. He said lies about Joey and pushed at Joe so he got drunk, that’s all. Nobody got hurt. Insurance covered everything, didn’t it? We had to move away.”
    Her head came up now, tears glimmering in her eyes. “We had to move away, and Joe went to jail. Isn’t that enough penance?”
    “Joey was awfully upset, wasn’t he?” Reena said.
    “They took his father away. In handcuffs. In front of the whole neighborhood. He was just a little boy. He needed his father.”
    “It was a difficult time for your family.”
    “Difficult? It busted my family to pieces. You—Your father said terrible things about my Joey. People heard what he said. What Joe did wasn’t right. ‘Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord,’ but it wasn’t his fault. He’d been drinking.”
    “He served additional time. Got himself in some jams when he was in prison,” O’Donnell pointed out.

    “Had to protect himself, didn’t he? Prison scarred his soul. He was never the same after.”
    “Your family has grievances against mine. Against me.”
    Laura frowned at her. “You were a child. You can’t lay blame on a child.”
    “Some do. Do you know if either your husband or your son has been back to Baltimore recently?”
    “I told you, Joe’s in New York.”
    “Not a long trip. Maybe he wanted to see you.”
    “He won’t talk to me. He’s fallen away from the Church. I pray for him every night.”
    “He must still see Joey.”
    She lifted a shoulder, but even that small gesture seemed to take more effort than she had to expend. “Joey doesn’t come around much. He’s busy. He has a lot of work.”
    “When’s the last time you heard from Joey?”
    “Few months. He’s busy.” Her voice took on an insistent shrill, almost like weeping. Reena thought of how she’d wept into a yellow dishcloth.
    “You people are always pointing the finger at him. They took his father away, they took him away. So, he got in some trouble, he did some wrong things. But he’s okay now. He’s got work.”
    “What kind of work?”
    “He’s a mechanic. He learned about cars when he was in jail. About cars and computers and all sorts of things. He’s got education, and he’s got good, steady work up in New York.”
    “At a garage?” O’Donnell prompted. “You know the name of it?”
    “Something like Auto Rite. In Brooklyn. Why don’t you leave him alone?”
    S he didn’t recognize me,” Reena commented when they were back in the car. “But once she did, she wasn’t surprised I was a cop. Somebody’s kept her abreast of the local events from the old neighborhood.”

    O’Donnell nodded, acknowledging Reena as he made a call, scribbled a number. “Got an Auto Rite in Brooklyn.” After a brief hesitation, he handed the page from his notebook to Reena. “You take Junior, I’ll take Senior.”
    Back at her desk, Reena put a call through to the garage. Over the sound of the Black Crowes, and considerable clanging, she had a brief conversation with the owner.
    “Joey did work at the garage,” she told O’Donnell. “For about two months, a year ago. Place was broken into twice during that two months, equipment and tools stolen. Last break-in somebody drove off with a Lexus. One of the other mechanics claimed he heard Joey bragging about the easy pickings. Owner informed the cops, who questioned. Couldn’t pin him, but he got fired over it. Five months later, the place is broken into again in what looks like vandalism. Cars beat to shit, graffiti all over the walls, and a wastebasket fire.”
    “And where was our boy when the party was going on?”
    “Allegedly in Atlantic City. Had three people verify. His alibis are connected, O’Donnell. The