Dave Zeltserman - Small Crimes

Small Crimes

Dave Zeltserman

Chapter 1

Thiswas going to be our last game of checkers. Usually we played in my cell; thislast game, though, we were playing in Morris's office. Over the last sevenyears we had played tens of thousands of games. Every fourth or fifth game I'dwin, the rest I'd let him beat me.

MorrisSmith ran the county jail here in Bradley. He was a large round man in hisearly sixties, with soft rubbery features and small wisps of hair framing hismostly bald head. I liked Morris - at least as much as I liked anyone. He couldhave made my life difficult the past seven years; instead he treated me aboutas well as he could've.

Ispent a few seconds studying the board and saw that I could force a checkeradvantage and a sure win, but I could also set myself up to be triple-jumped. Ipretended to be deep in thought for a couple of minutes and then made the moveto let him force the triple jump.

Morrissat silently, his small eyes darting over all the possible moves. I saw amomentary glint in his eyes when he recognized the combination leading to thetriple jump, and watched with some amusement as he tried to suppress a smile.He pushed his checker in place with a large, thick hand that shook.

'Ithink you made a mistake there, young fellow,' he said, his voice coming out ina low croak.

Isat there for a long moment and then cursed to show that I realized how I hadscrewed up. Letting loose one last profanity, I made the move I was forced tomake and watched as Morris pounced on the board, making his triple jump andpicking up my checkers.

"Thatshould be about it,' he said.

Weplayed out the rest of the moves. I knew Morris took great satisfaction inremoving the last checker from the board. When the game was over, he gave aslight smile and offered me his hand in a conciliatory shake.

'Yougave me a good game,' he said, 'except for that one mistake.'

'Whatcan I say? You've been kicking my ass for seven years now. I just got to admitI've met my match.'

Morrischuckled, obviously pleased with himself. He glanced at his watch. 'Your paperworkis all done. You're a free man. But if you'd like, I could order us some lunchand we could play one more game.'

'I'dlike to, but it's been a long seven years. I've been craving a cheeseburger anda few beers for some time now.

'Icould have that brought here.'

'Well,yeah,' I said, hesitating, 'but you could get in trouble doing that, Morris.And, besides, it wouldn't taste the same in here. No offense.'

Henodded, some disappointment showing on his round face. 'Joe, I've grown to likeyou over the last few years. I didn't think I would after what you did to getyourself in here. Can I give you some friendly advice?'

'Sure.'

'Whydon't you start fresh someplace else? Maybe Florida?

Myself,soon as I retire in three years, I'm moving to Sarasota. You can keep theselousy New England winters.'

'That'snot bad advice, but one of the conditions of my parole is to stay in Bradley'

'Youcould petition for a change of address.'

'Well,yeah, I guess I could, but my parents are getting up there in age, and I'd liketo make up for lost time.'

Heshrugged. 'I hope you at least think about it. I don't think Bradley's a goodplace for you anymore.'

'Iappreciate the advice. But I don't have much choice in the matter. At least notright now.'

Westood up and shook hands. I turned away to pick up my duffel bag and Morrisasked whether I wanted to call my parents for a ride. I told him I'd get a cab.I made a quick phone call, signed whatever paperwork I had to, and was led outof the building by Morris. A cab was waiting for me, but there was a man bentover, talking to the driver. The cab pulled away, and as the man stood up Irecognized him instantly. I'd have to with the way his face was carved up andthe thick piece of flesh that was missing from his nose. At one time, he hadbeen a good-looking man, but that was before he had been stabbed thirteen timesin the face.

Morrislooked a bit uncomfortable. 'Well, uh,' he said, 'it was a pleasure having youas my guest, young fellow. If you ever want to stop by for a lesson on thetheory of checkers, feel free.' Then, seriously, 'Try to stay out of trouble.'

Hegave me a pat on the back and waved to the other man before disappearing backinto the building. The other man stood grinning, but it didn't extend to hiseyes. Looking at him was like staring at an open-mouthed rattlesnake.

Inodded to him. 'I don't want any trouble, Phil,' I said.

PhilCoakley just stood grinning with eyes that were hard glass. Phil was thedistrict attorney in our county. I knew he'd been stabbed thirteen times in theface because that's how many times they told me I'd stabbed him. That was agood part of the reason I'd spent the last seven years in county jail.

'I'msorry for what happened,' I said, keeping my distance.

Philwaved me over, his grin intact, but still nothing in his eyes. 'I don't wantany trouble either, Joe,' he said. 'As far as I'm concerned you've paid yourdebt to society, and what's done is done. I just want to clear the air, makesure there are no hard feelings. Come on over here. Let's talk for a minute.'

Ididn't like it, but I didn't feel as if I had any choice. When I moved closerto him, I could see the scarring along his face more plainly, and it was all Icould do to keep from looking away. The damage was far worse up close. Helooked almost as if someone had played tic-tac-toe on his face. As if he weresome grotesque caricature from a Dick Tracy comic strip. Parts of his face wereuneven with other parts, and that chunk of flesh missing from his nose, JesusChrist. As tough as doing so was, I kept my eyes straight on him.

'Ihope you don't mind, Joe,' he said, 'but I asked your taxi to come back so wecould talk for a few minutes.'

'Sure,that's fine.'

'I'vebeen waiting out here almost an hour. Your parole was supposed to be completedby noon.'

'Youknow how Morris is. He takes his time with things.'

Philgave a slow nod. 'Look at you,' he said, 'Joe, I think jail agrees with you.Your beer gut's gone. Damn, you look better now than you've looked in years.But I guess you can't say the same about me.'

'Ifthere was any way I could go back and change what I did'

'Yeah,I know, don't worry about it. What's done is done.' He paused for a moment, hisgrin hardening again. I often wondered how you were able to serve out your timein a county jail. Arson, attempted murder, maiming a district attorney, and youend up in a county jail. I've been trying for the last seven years to have youmoved to a maximum security prison, but I guess you were born under a luckystar. Even drawing Craig Simpson as your parole officer.'

Ididn't say anything. He gave a careless shrug, still grinning. 'But that's allin the past,' he said. 'You paid your debt, even though seven years doesn'tquite seem long enough. What was your original sentence? Twenty-four years?'

'Sixteento twenty-four,' I said.

'Sixteento twenty-four years.' Phil let out a short whistle. 'It seems to me like ahell of a short sentence for what you did. And you only had to serve out sevenyears of it in county jail, all the time being waited on hand and foot by oldMorris Smith.'

'Ithasn't been all that easy. My wife divorced me'

'Yeah,I know. My wife divorced me, too.' He paused. 'I guess she had a difficult timelooking me straight in the face.'

Hehad lost his grin. I just stared at him, stared at the mass of scar tissue thatI was responsible for. After a while, I asked him what he wanted.

'Ijust wanted to clear the air,' he said. 'Make sure there are no hard feelingsbetween the two of us. Also, I want to talk a little police business with you.After all, you were a police officer in this town for twelve years. You hearthat Manny Vassey's dying of cancer?'