had a chance to use it, even once, and that’s about the only break I got out of this fucking game. But he was psychologically addicted, they said, to marijuana.”
“Is that why he doesn’t say anything?”
“That’s part of it. I guess. Even the peckerhead doctors don’t know, really. You see, when I found that junk, I flushed it down the john, like the other time, and made him watch, too, like the other time, and while I was doing it, he said, ‘Don’t.’ And that’s the last thing I’ve heard him say. When he was first checked in, at the hospital, he talked to the doctors, other patients, but he was quiet, and gradually, over a period of a couple weeks, he pulled into a shell. Hasn’t said a word.”
“Frank,” I said. Kindly. “I know this is something you’re very concerned about, but how does it relate to you and me?”
“I think it does relate.” He looked convinced, like Oral Roberts telling his audience God is not dead. “I’ve stepped on people, Quarry. I’ve made some enemies. But that’s, most of it, past history. This is a recent history.”
And he took a clipping out of his pocket. The date was recent, about a month old; the headline: CITIZEN GROUP LAUNCHES ATTACK ON DRUGS, with a smaller headline above saying: Young People Major Victim. The article told of a civic group whose initials were D.O.P.E. (Des Moines Organization of Parental Enquiry) and who were demanding action on the “rampant drug problem demoralizing the youth of our city, state and country,” in the words of the ex-mayor who headed the “Executive Council” of the group.
I gave the clipping back to him. I looked at him close, in hopes he was kidding. He wasn’t.
“I’m staying on the sidelines, naturally . . . but it was my idea, my money, my connections got this thing going. I got some very influential friends, rich people, well-to-do assholes who don’t like the idea of their kids being stuck in the same school with a bunch of nigger junkies, and who’re willing to put their money where their mouth is and help cause a stink and put a stop to it. It’s a matter of educating the public, finger-fucking the press, all that Ralph Nader lobby group bullshit. Of course the group can only do so much, but I can put pressure on by myself, with the people I know in politics, local and state and even federal, and people in law enforcement, all kinds of people I got influence with.”
“You’re kind of an unlikely candidate for civic reformer, aren’t you, Frank?”
“Look, I know dope’s just a business, like anything else. Of course I never fucked with it myself, or any people I worked with, either, the DiPretas, say, they never had their hands in that kind of shit. A lot of mob people never did get into it, and hardly no mob people are into it, anymore. It’s the niggers and spicks who own it, now, but even so, I know I’m not gonna single-handed wipe out dope in the world, and couldn’t care less if I did. I just want to cause some trouble for the fucking leeches who turned a decent kid into a vegetable, all right? And I must be pulling it off, and it looks like, even though I kept in the background on this thing, word’s out I’m the one who put the heat on.” He shrugged. “So somebody bought a contract.”
“That’s what somebody did,” I said.
“Anyway, they’re two different things entirely.”
“What?”
“Running a gambling house and selling poison.”
“Right,” I said.
And finished my drink.
24
_______________________________________________
_______________________________________________
SHE WAS HALF asleep and completely naked, sheets and covers twisted and not covering much of her at all. She was on her stomach but turned to one side, hugging a pillow, against which rested one generous breast, cuddled there, not squashed, its large dark nipple soft and smooth and delicate, a flower with its petals
“Is that why he doesn’t say anything?”
“That’s part of it. I guess. Even the peckerhead doctors don’t know, really. You see, when I found that junk, I flushed it down the john, like the other time, and made him watch, too, like the other time, and while I was doing it, he said, ‘Don’t.’ And that’s the last thing I’ve heard him say. When he was first checked in, at the hospital, he talked to the doctors, other patients, but he was quiet, and gradually, over a period of a couple weeks, he pulled into a shell. Hasn’t said a word.”
“Frank,” I said. Kindly. “I know this is something you’re very concerned about, but how does it relate to you and me?”
“I think it does relate.” He looked convinced, like Oral Roberts telling his audience God is not dead. “I’ve stepped on people, Quarry. I’ve made some enemies. But that’s, most of it, past history. This is a recent history.”
And he took a clipping out of his pocket. The date was recent, about a month old; the headline: CITIZEN GROUP LAUNCHES ATTACK ON DRUGS, with a smaller headline above saying: Young People Major Victim. The article told of a civic group whose initials were D.O.P.E. (Des Moines Organization of Parental Enquiry) and who were demanding action on the “rampant drug problem demoralizing the youth of our city, state and country,” in the words of the ex-mayor who headed the “Executive Council” of the group.
I gave the clipping back to him. I looked at him close, in hopes he was kidding. He wasn’t.
“I’m staying on the sidelines, naturally . . . but it was my idea, my money, my connections got this thing going. I got some very influential friends, rich people, well-to-do assholes who don’t like the idea of their kids being stuck in the same school with a bunch of nigger junkies, and who’re willing to put their money where their mouth is and help cause a stink and put a stop to it. It’s a matter of educating the public, finger-fucking the press, all that Ralph Nader lobby group bullshit. Of course the group can only do so much, but I can put pressure on by myself, with the people I know in politics, local and state and even federal, and people in law enforcement, all kinds of people I got influence with.”
“You’re kind of an unlikely candidate for civic reformer, aren’t you, Frank?”
“Look, I know dope’s just a business, like anything else. Of course I never fucked with it myself, or any people I worked with, either, the DiPretas, say, they never had their hands in that kind of shit. A lot of mob people never did get into it, and hardly no mob people are into it, anymore. It’s the niggers and spicks who own it, now, but even so, I know I’m not gonna single-handed wipe out dope in the world, and couldn’t care less if I did. I just want to cause some trouble for the fucking leeches who turned a decent kid into a vegetable, all right? And I must be pulling it off, and it looks like, even though I kept in the background on this thing, word’s out I’m the one who put the heat on.” He shrugged. “So somebody bought a contract.”
“That’s what somebody did,” I said.
“Anyway, they’re two different things entirely.”
“What?”
“Running a gambling house and selling poison.”
“Right,” I said.
And finished my drink.
24
_______________________________________________
_______________________________________________
SHE WAS HALF asleep and completely naked, sheets and covers twisted and not covering much of her at all. She was on her stomach but turned to one side, hugging a pillow, against which rested one generous breast, cuddled there, not squashed, its large dark nipple soft and smooth and delicate, a flower with its petals
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