Levesque
He drove through the city with no particular destination. There was a steady thrumming in the back of his head. He could feel the fire in his stomach trying to rise up and consume him. He drove.
He drove up Main Street towards the hospital. He pulled into the Dunkin Donuts across the street, getting into the line for the drive-thru. As he sat there, he thought of the dozens of times he’d come to this exact Dunk’s with his father. It had been a treat.
He looked to his right and saw the Rite-Aid, a former Wellby’s, where his parents used to bring him to rent movies. Those were good times. Well, better times, anyway. How much things had changed.
As he came around the back of Dunk’s and was next to order, he looked down over lower Oak Street. It’s sagging porches fronting a variety of different colored houses all in desperate need of a paint job.
He placed his order.
The whole city needed a paint job. It had needed one since he was a kid. Everything was so ragged and rundown. Dirty and decrepit. The community was poor. The major employers were Wal-mart, which wasn’t known for its employee relations, and the chain restaurants dotted across the opposite side of the river.
Pockets of the city were changing, Lisbon Street was making a comeback, and the college had built a few new buildings, not in the traditional brick and ivy this time, so that was different. A little more modern.
It wasn’t enough though. No one wanted to spend the money it would take to bring in customer driving events that would help change the city’s economics. The majority of people’s paychecks were going to fuel alcohol induced escapes from the reality that the city not an attractive place to outsiders.
City leaders were too conservative in their directives, building parking garages for visitors who never visited, and failing to fund the police department, allowing the French-Canadian biker gang Les Bâtards to run drugs and other contraband through the city unmolested.
It hadn’t had to be this way. Just look at Bangor. They’d built up a concert venue by the river. They got big acts too. Not just those “10 years ago we were huge, now we’re just playing out the string” types either. In the summer, people pulled only stopped in the Falls to fuel up for the last hour-and-a-half of their trek north.
He handed his money to the young man at the cash register. He put the truck in gear, and headed back out onto Main Street, and fell back into his thoughts.
Central Falls had been a hotbed of industry years before. The Androscoggin divided the city into two halves, and powered the textile and shoe mills along its banks. The city had thrived then, until machinery took over and jobs moved overseas. It had been before his time, so all he could do was imagine what a thriving city would have looked like.
Now, the Falls was just a large city between the mountains and the ocean with a river running through it. Close enough to neither the mountains nor the ocean to make staying in the city practical. It was a sort of purgatory.
Why hadn’t he noticed all this before? Why had he stayed? He could have left. He could have taken Beth and left.
It had been fear. He’d been afraid if he left, Beth would have seen something of the world, and realized that he was no one, that he was nothing. In the Falls, he was a big fish in a small pond. Out in the world, he was certain she would have seen how little he was, and left him for someone else.
And at the time, he couldn’t see a life without her. She brought out the parts in him he liked. She made him feel like he was worth something. He liked himself when he was with her. He wasn’t as angry.
He broke from his reverie and saw that he was on outer Main Street, out past the local wholesale shop. He drove a little further, before taking a right on Merrill Road. This route would have taken him home, but he wasn’t ready for home yet. Beth was there, and he didn’t want to face her.
He turned right onto College Street, heading back towards the center of town. He changed his mind and took a left, then another left. He came to the sign for the Little League fields and turned in.
Even out here, the houses hadn’t changed much. They were all drab one-level houses with garages off the side. Sure, they weren’t as run down as the places on Oak Street, but they hadn’t changed from 20 years ago, when he’d been a boy playing on these fields.
He reached the end of the road and pulled into the parking lot at the upper end of the complex. He avoided the main entrance into the complex as it was a muddy combination of dirt and gravel. In his youth, he’d seen a couple of vehicles get stuck. He didn’t trust his F-150 not to leave tracks in the mud.
He opted instead for the crushed rock incline. He passed the pine green dugouts and snack shack where he’d begged his parents for fried dough. He drove through the complex until backing into a spot in between the right field of the “seniors” (13-15 year-olds) field and the right-centerfield fence of the “minors” (7-11 year-olds) field.
He and Tommy had owned the seniors field in their blue and red Levesque Jewelers uniforms. Tommy already throwing in the mid-80s when they were 15, scaring most of the other kids. Tommy never missed his mitt. He was untouchable.
Levesque had even been a decent player. He had some power, and used to hit towering drives over the light tower in left. That was back when he could still hit. Before kids started throwing curveballs that curved. He and Tommy were a lethal combination. It was too bad the rest of the team hadn’t been more than glorified scorekeepers.
Levesque reached over and touched the Bible on the passenger seat, inching it closer to him. He popped the top off his half-finished coffee. Reaching into the truck’s glove compartment, he pulled out a flask and refilled his coffee with it. He stirred it around with a swizzle stick and had his first taste of the day.
It was later than usual for him. He’d felt the hunger, and the anger, during his time with Chamberlain. His hangover had been so bad, it had dulled the hurt, now after his drive, he could feel it eating away at his stomach.
It was quiet at the complex. It wouldn’t be busy for a couple hours. The fields were set back away from the houses on the access road so the cheering from the ballgames wouldn’t disturb the neighbors.
Levesque had his window down, enjoying the warm spring sun on his arm. The sound of the car wheels crunching on the crushed rock from the access way came across the fields to him clear as day. He watched a gray Buick eased down the hill. He did not look forward to what was going to come next.
He took a sip of coffee, noticing the vodka was not having its desired effect. He reached across to the passenger seat and opened the Bible. Cut into the inside was a snub-nosed .38. He pulled it out and stuck it under his right leg.
The Buick made its way along the fence on the first base side. The sun reflected off the windshield, creating a glare. He squinted to see who the driver was, even though he had a good idea.
The Buick pulled in next to him, bringing the driver’s window parallel to his. Levesque looked down on Reilly.
“Do you have the money?” asked the detective.
“Are you sure it was smart to follow me out here?” Levesque managed, with more confidence than he felt.
“Who gives a shit? I want the money. Fuckin’ Chamberlain is going to be expecting his coffee.”
“What money?”
“What do you mean, ‘what money’? I know you were part of it, I want a cut to keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to have to come down hard on you.”
“You mean you haven’t already? Chamberlain came at me pretty hard this morning.”
“It had nothing to do with me.”
“Sure it didn’t, the way you pushed me around. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”
“It’s not my fault. I didn’t say a thing to him. He doesn’t look like much, but you know he’s a legend, always finds these weird angles in things.”
“He seems to be sniffing pretty close on this.”
“Man, you’ve lived here your entire life. You should know better than most about his legend. His cracked every big case this down has had the last 40 years, except for the one where your father disappeared.”
“He was quick to link that to the robbery.”
“That’s not my problem. He’s a smart guy. It would be awful if he got an anonymous tip telling him about your break in, and it threw some unwanted heat your way.”
“That sounds like a threat,” said Levesque, sliding his hand under his leg and finding the grip of the .38.
“Take it however you want. I just want a piece of the action, a sizable piece.”
“Well, all I can give you is this,” said Levesque, pushing the .38 out the window, he fired two quick shots.
The first tore through Reilly’s lung and the second pierced his heart. A red stain mushroomed onto his shirt and his head rolled forward, giving him the look of someone taking a nap.
Levesque’s heart was pounding in his ears. He threw back the rest of the laced coffee. Then fumbled for the flask and tossed it back as well. He started the F-150 and drove back through the fields.
If he was lucky, the cars coming in for tonight’s games would obscure any tracks he might leave. With more luck, people would think Reilly was asleep, and leave him be.
As the sun pushed past its apex, the truck’s wheels hit pavement. He tore off in the direction of the Chanticleer. He needed to find Tommy.
