Gin Palace 02 - The Bone Orchard

Michigan, which of course he never got to use. I lowered my hand and saw on the desk a photograph of Tommy and his mother, this one, however, taken after the fact. In my rage I had worked his joints -- wrenched a knee, twisted an arm. In this photo Tommy is in rehab, his beautiful mother watching him with a mix of encouragement and grief. The arm I had broken Tommy could not yet straighten, and it looked almost mechanical, like the arm of the Tin Woodsman. Tommy didn’t smile, and the smile on his mother’s face was so forced and brave that she really shouldn’t have bothered at all.
    I turned back to the Chief. He said nothing, just looked at me, his face ashen, the edges of his eyes red and raw.
    I was still dazed, breathing fast, shallow breaths. I didn’t bother to check if my head or face was bleeding. It was beyond all that now.
    “What is it you want, Chief,” I snapped.
    His breathing, the swelling of his mountain man’s chest, reminded me of a heaving ocean, of a stormy sea.
    “What do you want from me, Chief?” I said again. I was out of breath. Words were wisps.
    “What are you talking about, MacManus?” he muttered.
    “You set me up for Concannon’s murder, didn’t you?” I gasped as I spoke. “First you tried to kill me in the cottage in Townsend’s house. And when that didn’t work you set me up for Concannon’s murder. You took my knife from my apartment, didn’t you? When you were there, waiting for me to wake up. You set me up good, Chief. My life’s in your hands. So just tell me what the fuck it is you want and get it over with?”
    He adjusted his position against the wall, rising from his slouch to more of a seated position. I kept a close eye on him. He winced and drew in air through his teeth. I thought of how I reacted the same way to pain.
    “You’re scared, aren’t you?” he said.
    “Yeah. I’m scared. Is that what you wanted? To scare me? Well, you got it, job’s done, so call off your dogs.”
    The Chief shook his head. It seemed more a gesture of correction that disagreement.
    “It’s not what I want, MacManus,” he said. “It’s never been about what I wanted. It’s what he wants. It’s been that way for a long time now.”
    I watched his words as carefully as I watched his movements.
    “What are you talking about, Chief?”
    “He’s wanted you dead for a few days now, actually. He has hired people to kill you. Professionals. But you don’t seem to have enough sense to die when you’re supposed to. Montauk, the reservation, it was all him. Since you wouldn’t die, he came up with this instead. Concannon had to die anyway, so why not get two for the price of one. He’s always been one for a bargain. Christ, he’s the cheapest son of a bitch I’ve ever known.”
    “Chief, what the hell are you talking about?”
    He looked down at his arm for a moment. He seemed to be gathering the strength he needed to continue. Finally he shook his head in almost amused disbelief and looked up at me. His face was white, but dirty white, like newspaper.
    “You don’t even know what you’re in the middle of, do you, MacManus?”
    I took a step toward him. “Why don’t you enlighten me, Chief?”
    “He’s the reason why I didn’t just walk into your place and drag you out by your collar and beat you like a dog right there on Elm Street. He’s the reason why I didn’t do a lot of things.”
    “Who?”
    “He told me that he needed you, and that was that. This was after what you did to my son. I wanted to kill you, but he wanted you around, and in good health, in case he needed you for something at some point down the road. So I sat on my hands, I did just what I was told. He assured me that once you were no longer of use to him, I could do what I wanted. I’ll tell you, it was a day I lived for.”
    “You’re saying Frank was -- “
    “He always likes to tell people that someone is pulling my strings. That I’m the corrupt and evil one and should be run out of town on a rail. He makes a big deal of saying that he needs to know exactly who it is pulling my strings, that he’s determined to find out. You’ve probably heard the speech. Looking out for the good of the town, he’s the only one who can do something, that kind of thing. He’s the one who runs my department, not me. He has half of my men in his pocket. They do what he tells them. Christ, they’ve even murdered for him.” The Chief sighed through his nose, short and brisk, and shook