Gin Palace 02 - The Bone Orchard

thinking I’ve fooled everyone.”
    “Not all of us have the advantage of abject poverty like you do.”
    “You might want to give it a try some time, Frank.”
    “I prefer my stomach full, thanks.”
    “It must be terrible for you when you get hungry.”
    “I do my best not to.”
    “Everyone gets hungry, Frank.”
    “If this is how you think, I can see why you hate me. It must be sad living in your ivory tower all alone.”
    “I don’t hate you, Frank. And I’m not afraid of you. You hurt people, not because you need to, but because it suits you. I don’t like what you do, but there’s nothing I can do about that. Still, someday someone’s going to put a shitload of bullets in you, and I want to be as far away from you as I can get then. I’ll find the partner of the man Augie shot. I’ll find him and tell you where you can pick him up. That’s as far as I go. After that we’re done. Do we understand each other?”
    Frank didn’t answer. After a moment I turned and looked at him. He nodded and said, “Perfectly.” I waited a moment more, then turned toward the door. Once through it I went down the steep steps to the street. The cold air felt suddenly like freedom, something I had but Augie didn’t.
    Someone once told me that there are only three states of mind, those of greed, hate, and delusion, and that every action any of us make has, as its origin, one of these three states. But I see it more simply than that. I see fear at the heart of everything we do. I see fear of not having at the heart of greed and wanting. I see fear of facing what is at hand at the heart of delusion. I see fear in the heart of hate and anger, prejudice and despondency. It’s what keeps the t.v. on late into the night, the liquor stores in business, and it’s what keeps us running blind from day to day.
    Most of the people I know are too poor to be greedy. What they want they want out of need. There is no greed here, but there is fear. It’s in Tina when she grasps, in Augie when he ignores facts that displease him, and in Frank when he stabs at an enemy. The Chief’s desire for revenge against me comes from the fear of bearing in his heart the pain of a son crippled by a nothing like me. And when I face my own reflection in my dirty bathroom mirror, fear is what I see looking, cold and hungry, back at me.
    This was with me as I walked back from Frank’s office. I wondered about the state of mind of the men who attacked Augie and me, and then of the mind of whoever had hired them. From what fear were they acting? Greed, hate, delusion? Was there something they wanted to pull close to them or something they wanted to be rid of? Or were they just panicked and confused into recklessness, into frantic and desperate action?
    This was the only line of thought I knew to follow. I knew nothing about investigations, nothing about the criminal mind, beyond what a nearly ten-year-old degree in criminology from a lesser-known college could offer. I barely knew my own mind. This philosophy was all I had to go on. It was the only way I knew how to help Augie.
    Tina was asleep on the couch when I entered my apartment. I didn’t bother to take off my jacket. She awoke when I picked up the phone. I dialed work. I should have been there fifteen minutes ago. I looked out my window at the train station and thought about everything Frank had said. My boss answered on the third ring. His voice was abrupt, unhappy.
    “Pancho’s.”
    “It’s Mac.”
    “You’re late.”
    “I should have called sooner.”
    “Don’t even think about calling in sick. It’s delivery day and I’m short a cook. I need you to prep.”
    “Something’s come up,” I said. “I’m not going to be in for a few days.”
    “I don’t fucking believe this.”
    “There’s something I have to take care of. I’m sorry.”
    “You don’t come in today, you’re fired, okay?”
    “Maybe I’ll only need one day--”
    He hung up before I finished. I waited a moment, then returned the receiver to the cradle. I was out of work again. I was broke and out of work and winter was here. Jobs were scarce. I looked down at Tina. Her eyes were glassy and red from sleeplessness, her face puffy from her short nap on the couch. She seemed to me almost surprised that she had in fact fallen asleep.
    I sat down on the couch beside her. Somehow it didn’t seem unsafe to be near her now. Or maybe I just didn’t care anymore if the Chief walked in or not. We had dug