Part VIII
Barkley swerved around cars as he sped down the road. Robinson jetting out of the apartment like that to the car had caught him off guard. Thinking of how the kid got the drop on him cause anger to rise through Barkley. He slapped the wheel with a balled up fist as he continued pursuit of Robinson.
The whole stakeout had been blown when Robinson moved across the way and then the problems were compounded, further, when Robinson sprang into action, leaving his club footed counter part huffing and puffing all the way to the car.
Barkley looked down at his feet and pushed the gas even harder as he maneuvered around another car before spotting Robinson sitting at a light about to turn left. Barkley slowed his car and began to give space to Robinson’s vehicle. A good tail always left enough space between the perp and himself without losing them. This wasn’t Barkley’s first tail, but how he had managed to catch up to Robinson with expert driving and a courage that rules did not apply to him surely did feel exhilarating. Up next was catching Robinson in the act.
Barkley didn’t know where he was going, but it didn’t matter. He was ready to do battle. This time, Barkley vowed, Robinson would not get the jump on him.
Up ahead, Robinson tapped the steering wheel nervously. He kept looking at the clock that read 1:11 at the time. It was taking longer than he thought to get to the Alibi, fearful that he might miss Paul, again. As he drove, Robinson had figured that he had taken a longer route to get to the bar that had cost him minutes; minutes that Robinson knew were valuable solving anything.
Up ahead he saw the bright blue light that said Alibi on it. The light flickered quickly upon Robinson’s arrival. Making a left into the bar, Robinson caught the headlights of a car that temporarily blinded him. The car went by and once again Robinson could see, slowly pulling into the parking lot. A low screech came from up the street and Robinson saw that same car that blinded him, quickly make a u-turn and park itself on the street.
Robinson thought he recognized the car from somewhere as he got out of the car. A group of men came out the door and Robinson turned his attention from the car to the outgoing group. He looked at each mans face, determining that they were too old to be Paul, Robinson moved past them and into the bar.
………
As Robinson entered the bar, a wave of warmth and glowing neon lights hit him at once. Other than the glow of the jukebox and the smattering of neon beer lights that adorned the wall, the bar was very dark, as if to provide anonymity to its patrons. The bar was quiet for the moment as the jukebox turned to a new record, causing every glass clink, ice rattle, and swoosh of a jacket to magnify in volume. As Robinson scanned the lonely souls that sat around staring into their beer bottles, he could not help but think of Wayne. The bar was America’s ode to the graveyard; lonely souls grouped together, occupying the small, confined space of the bar stool; not a whisper made, just the half closed eyelids staring into empty glasses.
Robinson did not see a young man that could be Paul, as the sound of Stevie Nicks singing Dreams crackled softly throughout the bar. Robinson made his way to the bar and found an empty seat to occupy. The man next to him stared blankly at the TV, smelling of gin and cigarettes. Robinson looked down the long, wooden bar towards the bartender down at the opposite end of the bar. The bartender was a middle-aged man with huge forearms used to delicately clean beer mugs from inside out like a factory line assembly machine. His handle bar mustache glistened under a dull lamp that hung above him. His focus was undeniable as he took efficient and smooth strokes with his rag to ensure the cleanliness of each glass.
Robinson leaned over and grabbed a peanut from a dusty wooden bowl that caused the bartender to break concentration and look up to see a new face in a room full of regulars. The bartender marched slowly down the row, tapping the wooden bar as he passed each man to see if they were sufficiently boozed.
The man towered over Robinson and gruffly asked in a hard baritone voice, “What do you need, pal?”
Robinson swallowed the rest of his peanut quickly and almost choked on the dust that came down his throat. Robinson coughed a few times, while the bartender looked on with sleep, agitated eyes. Robinson coughed heavily, causing the entire bar to turn troublesomely towards him. The eyes made Robinson feel uncomfortable as he squirmed and shrank in his stool.
“I’m looking for Paul Cooper,” Robinson muttered, almost inaudible enough for him to understand. “Have you seen him?”
The bartender stared hard into Robinson causing Robinson to look past his stare and look into the mirror behind the bartender. Robinson looked at his reflection- the tired eyes, the shadow of stubble on his chin, the moppy hair- wondering if the bartender wondered what dark alley this guy must have come from.
“You a cop?” The bartender asked.
“Do I look like one?” Robinson shot back.
“You look like a guy that was ridden hard and put away wet,” The man next Robinson gave a chuckle as he plopped a cigarette in his mouth. The bartender gave himself a look of amusement, seeing the frustration in Robinson’s face. “I’ll tell ya what. You pay his bar bill and I’ll tell you where he is. Deal?”
Robinson grabbed for his wallet in his back pocket. “How much does he owe?”
The bartender contemplated for a bit as he rolled his mustache out, putting the thick bush of hair in between his thumb and forefinger.
“I would say about fifty bucks.”
“Fifty! All I have is seventeen bucks.” Robinson said looking down into his wallet as if someone had stolen money from it.
The bartender took the wallet, snatched the seventeen bucks and put it in his back pocket. He threw the wallet back to Robinson as he walked away.
“So where is he?” Robinson yelled to the bartender.
“He left.” The bartender began to wipe the glasses again with his signature form.
“How long ago?”
“How long you been here for?”
“Two minutes.”
“Then he left five minutes ago. Out the back with some fella.”
Robinson jumped out of his stool thinking “Not again.” How could he miss Paul within a matter of moments twice in one day. He began to have that feeling again that maybe he wasn’t suppose to complete this. You can only hit so many roadblocks before you give up.
Robinson reached the back door and pushed hard against the door. It didn’t budge. He tried again and was met with the same heavy resistance. Robinson backed up and lowered his shoulder into the door causing a slight budge. He saw darkness outside, but whatever was in front of the outside door was heavy and it wasn’t budging.
Robinson ran through the bar and out through the front door. He tore around the side of the building and around the corner. Once he was there he saw a large dumpster had been pushed in front of the door. But why?
Then he saw Paul.
From the other side of the dumpster he flew through the air and down to the ground with a sickening thud. Paul lay on the ground motionless. Robinson thought he was dead. A dark figure stepped out of the darkness, a black hood covering his face and grabbed Paul. Robinson winced at the grotesque sound of flesh hitting other flesh right off the face. Robinson could see blood splatter into the air, hanging for a brief moment, before falling upon the wet cement.
The dark figure grabbed Paul and gave him a knee to the face that sent him to his back. Robinson had to act fast. He grabbed a trash can lid from the ground and ran over to save Paul.
The dark figure stood over Paul, his concentration held upon his fallen prey. Robinson ran at the man, led by the trash lid, full force, knocking him to the ground. Robinson looked down at Paul who lay there motionless. Robinson quickly turned his attention back to the dark figure that had begun to stagger to his feet. With the moon now covered by clouds, Robinson only saw a blank space inside the hooded sweatshirt. The dark figure readied himself for battle.
Robinson began to slowly creep towards the man led by his shield. Once, close enough to the figure, Robinson swung widely and the figure stepped back into a crouch. Robinson swung back the other way, but it was too late as the dark figure rushed underneath the swing, tackling Robinson to the ground.
The impact cause Robinson to lose his breath as the dark figure looked down upon him. Robinson opened his eyes, but his vision was blurry and a sharp pain rose in his head. All Robinson could make out was the hood of the figure coming closer to his face. Robinson and the masked man were so close that Robinson could feel his breath upon his face. Then a voice spoke to him-
“He wanted to this.” Was the low, hissing whisper that came upon Robinson, “Remember that he wanted this.”
The dark figure began to look inside Robinson’s pockets. He checked all of the pockets, as Robinson lay there woozy and breathless. While Robinson began to gain more strength, the dark figure suddenly sprang up and began to run down the dark alley. Robinson propped himself up to an elbow, clearing out his groggy head, in time to see the dark figure look down the alley at him before disappearing out of sight.
Robinson slowly picked himself up. He touched the back of his head and felt a huge knot that hurt at the simplest touch of his fingertips. He checked his fingers and saw no blood on them. Robinson winced from a sudden pain that surged in his stomach. He kept his eyes upon the far side of the alley to see if the dark figure would reappear.
Robinson hit the ground with a hard thump He was able to put his hands up before he hit the ground, feeling the sting of scraped hands that lay inches above the ground to the cool touch of the breezy air.
A hard kick to the side of his stomach moved his body a foot over. Robinson held his side as he rolled over to look at his attacker. Robinson looked up to see the mangled and bloody face of Paul. Paul stared down at him- his left eye shut, blood trickling down the corner of his mouth, his arm dangling at the side. He gave another swift kick to Robinson that landed on his left arm. Robinson seized his arm in pain wondering what was happening.
“You had no right. No right! Ya hear me?”
Paul began to stomp on Robinson’s body. Robinson tried to turn over onto his back, but with the swiftness of each stomp he was only able to try and deflect the attack.
“I deserve to die. That was my fate and you fucked it up. You came along and thought you were helping? Who asked you for help?”
Robinson heard the words of Mr. Cole echoing through Paul as he spoke. Another barrage of kicks began to land on Robinson, his body turning to rubber with the punishment he was enduring. The kicks stopped and Robinson grasped for air, his body becoming limp with every attack.
Before he could blink, Paul had pinned Robinson down and with his one good arm began to choke Robinson. Paul’s other arm dangled to the side as Robinson was pinned down to the ground. He tried to fight off Paul’s one hand, getting timely breathes, but with a lack of energy and a woozy head, the task of defeating a one armed Paul was becoming a surprisingly difficult challenge.
Robinson wrestled and thrashed around like a fish that being reeled in from out of the water. The lack of air was getting to Robinson as he stole glances upon Paul’s face that showed a dark, smoldering intensity he had never seen in another person before. Paul was going to kill Robinson. That was the end game to all of this.
Robinson’s parents popped into his head with each sparse piece of breath being relinquished from his body; thoughts of his parents and how he had failed them. If they were dead then he was moments away from meeting them again. Maybe it was better to just let go, and allow his fate to meet him. The day tried to push him away from this moment, but he brushed off the warnings and came anyway. The warning that Mr. Cole tried to heed to him, Robinson would meet the same fate as a young man that lived so long ago.
It all comes crashing down.
The world became blurry and Robinson felt his body becoming lighter and lighter. He stopped struggling. He slipped further and further into a more relaxed state. His eyes closed and a soft breeze carried into his ear that whispered, “You hold the key.”
Robinson’s body seized a breath of life. His moment of euphoria was now replaced by a sudden struggle. He grabbed at his belt buckle where he had stored the small key after having awoken from the dream. Robinson had tucked it tightly between the buckle, even jiggling it to make sure it stayed.
Now, he was searching his buckle, fingering the metal square before feeling the teeth of the key poke his finger. He grabbed the key with two fingers and began to pull at it, which was difficult considering life was being squeezed from his body. The struggle to breath coincided with the struggle to unlock the key from his belt, the key to his own survival.
Robinson felt the key wiggle out slowly as he tore hard at the buckle. The key slid into his palm and he quickly pushed it into Paul’s face. Paul looked surprised at the small, metallic key that shone in front of his face. His one good eye showed recognition of what he was looking at. Paul’s hand began to ease up as he slumped off Robinson, but not before grabbing the key.
Paul sat there dumbfounded, twirling the key inside his fingers like he had done so many times before. The key mesmerized him, while Robinson looked on at the reunion of Paul and his key.
Robinson, once again, sat up, rubbing his neck slowly and gently; feeling the air slowly fill back into his lungs. He scooted away from Paul, both to give him a sense of privacy and for fear of what may come next. Robinson slid over to the dumpster and leaned up against it. The next couple of minutes were filled with a swirling wind that blew by the two men, sitting in the dark alleyway trying to piece together various moments of their lives that brought them to this point.
“I never thought I would ever see this again,” Paul said, putting the key into his palm and finally looking up at Robinson. “Where did you get it?”
“I found your letter. I figured it meant something to you and I wanted to see it back where it belonged.”
“Back where it belongs?” Paul repeated back to himself as if ashamed that a stranger knew the depths of its meaning.
“ I tried to deliver it to your house, but it must have been the wrong address you put down because the people that lived there didn’t know-“
“It wasn’t the wrong address.” Paul said sullenly.
“But the people there said they didn’t know the Coopers or-“ Robinson trailed off as he finally understood the story. He looked up at Paul who gave him a knowing glance before trying to stop the inevitable tears of sadness.
“You probably don’t know what its like to fail someone, especially a loved one,” he did not look up to find Robinson closing his eyes, feeling the hurt of Paul’s pain seeping throughout him. A pain that was worse than any beating he had received that night. “But there she was on the table, her eyes just fluttering. I was the last person she saw in her life. The last person who could have tried to save her and I failed. The worst part was that I never got to tell her I loved her. No, the last thing I told her was that I didn’t care if I ever saw her again.”
Paul was racked with emotion, breaking down into an uncontrollable sob that paralyzed him. Robinson didn’t know what to do, watching this man feel helpless, pounding away at the ground. Robinson got up and went over to Paul and sat by him.
“Who was that man tonight?”
“A guy I hired to kill me. I couldn’t handle the pain anymore. I couldn’t take the day to day of life. The sadness just followed me like a shadow and I just couldn’t handle it anymore, so I found a guy that would make me feel the pain I deserved before I left.”
Paul wiped away the tears that caked his face. He looked up at Robinson and smiled, “Funny, I went to visit my mom today. I told her I would be seeing her soon. I asked her if she could make me smile one last time while I lived. If she could take the pain away for just a moment so I could feel good about something. All day I looked and looked for something to show me she heard me.”
Paul took the key out of his palm and shook it at Robinson, “She heard me.” Paul stared hard at the key before whispering into the sky, “And she saved my life.”
Robinson looked over at the key and thought of one thing- Purpose.
…….
Robinson and Paul pushed the dumpster aside. They had sat outside for an hour talking, Robinson having told him about his first day at the post office, Mr. Cole’s words to stay away, searching all over for Paul, The crazy old man chasing him, his dinner with Wayne, his talk with Lewis, and he even told him about his own parents disappearance-funny how common bonds of pain can make a person open up, Robinson thought to himself-before Paul had wanted to clean up and head home for the night. Paul had declined a ride from Robinson, and a hospital visit because with no healthcare he could not afford to be stitched up, so once Paul headed inside they went off in their own direction. However, Paul made Robinson promise to meet him again to talk to and have some burgers with Wayne, who he insisted was not that crazy, even though he could not say so without a smile crawling along his face.
Only Robinson’s direction was halted as he turned the corner. Laying on the ground unconscious was Barkley. His body lay in the darkness, while his clubbed feet stuck out into a small ray of light.
Robinson knelt down next to Barkley and saw a pistol sticking out from the side of his jacket. A faint breath came out of his body to signal that he was alive. A voice came out from behind Robinson-
“Nice work kid,” Robinson turned around, startled, to find the old man that had chased him earlier in the day standing beside him. A led pipe lay firmly in his hand a he approached Robinson.
Robinson stepped back, only to meet a brick wall behind him. He was trapped by this old man.
“You have had quite the first day there,” The old man said, throwing the pipe down to the ground; a way to ease Robinson’s fears and get him to relax, but Robinson felt tense, unable to let his guard down for a second. “But you have to know that in this business you are going to have a lot of days like this.”
“Who are you?”
“Oh, my apologies. I am Dylan Thomas, or Mr. Thomas as that idiot Cole would say.”
“You are the crazy guy that went to the looney bin?”
“Stories of me are greatly exaggerated. All you need to know is that I am here to help you.”
“You are going to help me. You are crazy. You don’t have any idea, old man. No idea of all that I have gone through.”
“Oh, but I do. If you would just give me a moment to explain.”
Robinson pushed off the wall and walked past Mr. Thomas. Robinson headed for his car when Mr. Thomas yelled “I can help you with one thing that may be of some great interest to you.”
Robinson turned around, annoyed by this man, “And what is that?”
Dylan Thomas smiled at Robinson before pulling out a white envelope, “The disappearance of your parents.”
<!--EndFragment-->
