Gin Palace 02 - The Bone Orchard

his father and saw his own reflection, or some distorted aspect of it. How much of Tommy’s meanness was a reaction to his father, and how much was it a reaction against?
    I didn’t like that the Chief could do this to me, that he in some ways knew more about me than I did. He was my enemy. And yet he was one of the only two men in town I knew of who was present when my father disappeared, who maybe had seen my father the day he dropped me off, had seen the tears in his eyes, if in fact there were any, or the look of relief. Maybe he even heard in my father’s voice indications that he was having second thoughts.
    The Chief sized me up for a moment, then said, “Is that what’s eating you up inside, MacManus? Is that what makes you the creep you are? Your daddy gave you away to strangers and skipped town. You must think about it all the time. Maybe he’s alive, maybe he’s not. Maybe he’s a bum, sleeping on a heating grate somewhere and drinking Thunderbird out of a paper bag. Maybe he started a new life, with a new wife and a mentally balanced kid, one he doesn’t mind being father to. Maybe he thinks about you. Maybe everyday he’s glad he shook a little shit like you off his shoe. But the not knowing must kill you.”
    I took a step toward him and said, “What do you want, Chief?”
    He matched my step forward with a step of his own and said, “I’m here to warn you. I’m here to tell you that both of our lives are in jeopardy right now.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “The man you’re looking for is named Townsend.”
    “What man?”
    “The partner of the man Augie shot. I assume that’s what this is all about. His name is Townsend. He’s part Shinnecock Indian. He lives on the reservation. On Cemetery Road. Number 54.”
    I looked at the Chief but said nothing.
    He said, “I’ve done something for you, and now I want you to do something for me in return.”
    “What?”
    “I can’t enter the reservation unless it’s an emergency. Nor can any of my men. I want you to go there and keep an eye on Townsend. If he’s not home when you get there, I want you to search his place, find out whatever you can.”
    “Like what?”
    “I want you to find out who’s paying his salary. You need him to save Augie. If he disappears, neither of us gets what we want.”
    I felt my face twist and my head cock slightly with surprise.
    “Just don’t let Townsend go far. You’ll figure out why sooner or later.”
    Something deep inside me reacted to that. This seemed to me too much like bait to be anything else.
    “Everyone needs to be careful on this one, MacManus, even me.”
    His leather belt creaked. I could hear his breathing, I could smell the mints on his breath, I could feel the warmth of it, he was that much into my apartment now, that close to me.
    “As unpleasant as it is for both of us, it seems we’re bound together till all this is over.”
    “How differently would things be if I hadn’t been on that road when Amy Curry crashed into the pond? There’d be no one right now bothering to try to find out who killed her. We’re all bound together in a town like this, Chief. In a small pond you feel every ripple.”
    The Chief had nothing to say. He just looked at me.
    I said, “You’d think a man as rich as James Curry wouldn’t have to come to someone like me for help. As I’ve always seen it the people with all the money in this town get preferential treatment.”
    “You have no idea what’s going on.”
    “Why should I do this, Chief?”
    “Because I know how much Augie means to you. And because you have no choice.”
    “What are you talking about, I have no choice?”
    “There was dead body near your car. A male Caucasian. Shot in the back of the head. Leaving the scene of an accident is bad enough, MacManus, but this, this is a whole different thing. The Montauk Police are going to want to talk to you. They’re going to take one look at you and your story about your car being stolen two days ago will be shot to shit. That is, of course, unless someone was to come up with a police report that corroborates your particular take on things.”
    Even though I had taken the plates and the serial numbers had been filed down, my car was the only twenty-year old shitbox LeMans on the East End. And the Chief was right, one look at me and it was all over. It was as simple as that.
    I knew there was something he wasn’t telling me, though I wasn’t really surprised by that. I