Justice is a piece of cake

Start writing... The night life in this town never sleeps, it’s alive, it breaths and beats like a heart. Music, dames, liquor, everything a decent man needs and if he tries to tell you something different he’s selling you applesauce kid. The only time someone can find sleep around here is on the inside of a wooden kimono six feet deep. I was born in this town and came up as a young punk in the back allies and sleeping in the back gin mills. Hell, I even made a little lettuce picking up the place before it opened, and I made a little more when the fellas would stumble out, all high off the hooch. I took care of’em. I got’em a hack to get home and what not, I only took a little cut for my good deeds. I’d always been a punk, and I could live with that, but I ain’t never had a piece and I was never no stool pigeon. So needless to say even I was surprised when I became a copper. I can still remember when I first considered the occupation.

It all started one summer when this young fella by the name of Tommy James stormed into town from the East Cost with a couple of Johnson Brothers. Right away they started flexing their muscles and knocking people off. It wasn’t long after that they gained a couple of more goons that they started calling themselves the Boulevard Boys. The Boys were pitching the hooch but there main source of lettuce were the pro skirts. You couldn’t tell by looking at’em, but they weren’t just pretty kittens. The came equipped with teeth and claws. They didn’t just break a fellas’ heart, but they’d knock a fella off if the conditions called for it.

That’s how my amigo got his. A good fella by the name of Mario the Mexican. He owned a gin mill that I used to stay at. One day he found himself in an altercation with Tommy outside of a drug store. Words got tossed around and one thing lead to the other and Tommy pushed Mario. Mario stumbled a bit but socked Tommy on the button. Tommy’s nose was alright but you can tell his pride was hurt.

A couple of weeks later Mario invited me over to his Families place on 18th street for what he called a fiesta, he said it was a Mexican party. It was a good time and after the party he offered me a job. He said I could make some lettuce taking out the old furniture from the gin mill. He explained that it had to be done at night after the place closed because he had some new furniture coming in the morning, and he didn’t want to deal with the hassle.

That day I took a cat nap in the afternoon and by the time I woke up it was already dark. My stomach started making noise and I remembered Mario telling me that he would have some of that Mexican food from the party. I hurried up and throw on my rags and ran down the street so fast a John wanted to give me a ticket. As I was coming around the back of the drug store I could smell her before I could see her. As we approached each other the street light barely touched her face. She had pale skin, ruby red lips and the shoes to match. She smelled like heaven and walked without a care in the world. At first I thought she belonged to one of those butter and egg man up north but she didn’t seem lost. She knew where she was going and I knew I had to get to my plate before Mario changed his mind. As soon as I walked into the place I spotted the plate on the bar counter. Next to the plate was a little note that simply read, “Eat up kid.”

I was at the point that was half way through with my plate when a cold chill crept up on me. I never got the heebie-jeebies before but I knew I had’em. The place was to quiet. All I could here was the metal of the knife and fork scrapping on the plate. Usually at this time Mario would be upstairs playing his guitar and smoking his butts, however, I didn’t hear no playing. First I went to the storage room were I use to sleep, but it was still dark and cold like I remembered. When I got back to the bar counter I noticed it had water on it, the kind that is left when a cold glass was on wood. I decided to make my way upstairs. As I was walking up I started calling his name along with a few Spanish words he taught me. I thought he would replay but there was no answer. When I got to the top I saw that his light was still on under his door. I pushed the door open a found him sitting on his bed with his back towards me. As I got around to his front I saw that he had chocolate cake on is face and the fork still in his and. While I was laughing I took the fork out of his hand and placed it next to half eaten piece of cake on his nightstand. All of my laughing stopped when I realized he wasn’t breathing.

I ran to the horn and the next thing I knew the place was crawling with coppers. After they took down what I had to say they tried to send me on my way. Little did they know, Mario showed me how to sneak into the walls. I overheard a gumshoe telling the chief that he had seen a few cases like this out East. Some poor sap would get tricked into eating a cake filled with Nevada gas. He also told the chef that the cases pointed to a Jane Doe that went by the alias Betty Winters. All this time Mario thought Tommy would send a Bruno to do him in; all this time it was dame, and I knew they were connected. After the coppers left I came from behind the walls and stood in Mario’s room for a bit talking to his ghost. I recalled that he had a piece underneath his nightstand he got from Mexico that he named Maria. And when I find Tommy or link him to this Betty dame, Maria would like to have a few words with’em.

Before you know it the Boulevard Boys jumped on Mario’s spot faster then a fly jumps on shit. One day, out of spite, Tommy asked if I wanted to work for’em. He said he could use a fella like me at his can-house running some last minute errands for a few canaries he had. As he was gong off at the jaw I realized how close he was. I had my shiv but I didn’t have Maria, and knocking him off any other way wouldn’t do Mario justice. I looked Tommy in the eyes and I tells’em, “You think you’re the big cheese around here, but you ain’t nothing but a drugstore cowboy. You got your goons and a few dumb Doras, but one day you’re going to do the dance and I’m going to be in the from row.” Tommy reached his hand back to sock me but a dame called out to’em. You can tell Tommy was soft on her. As she walked up I could smell her before I could see her. She was a Irish dame with green eyes, ruby red lips and the shoes to match. She looked at me and told Tommy to leave me alone. Before he could walk away with her he whispered to me. “I always have my heater with me and a pocket full of shells. I catch you around this place again and the flatfoots are going to find you with lead poisoning, savvy?”

I tried to tell the cops about the connection I made, but none of’em would believe a punk like me. I couldn’t get nowhere near Tommy, so that’s when I left town to became a copper myself. Now that I’m back I’m out to seek justice for my old amigo. So go tell Tommy I’m looking for’em. It’s going to be a cold summer in this town and I got the heater in my hand and a pocket full of shells. And tell’em one more thing. Tell’em that justice will be served like a piece of chocolate cake and to eat up kid!