Live Bait Read Online Free
Author: Ted Wood
he didn't. But he had no guts, and no deep meanness in him.
"Tell me about this Tony. What's he look like?"
Now his hands sprang to life, drawing a picture in the air. He sketched a height with his left hand, perhaps five-ten, then wide-apart hands for wide shoulders. "Biggish guy, dark, moustache, good dresser. Wears a suit. No bastard else in the Millrace ever has a suit on, never."
"How old?"
"Thirty, thirty-five, you can't never be sure with Eyetalians." This was a slip and he bit off the word as soon as he realized what he had said.
"Does he sound Italian?"
He shook his head. "No, Canadian as you 'n' me."
"Then what makes you say he's Italian?"
"He's got one of them, you know, Jesus on a crosses, on a chain round his neck. An' with bein' called Tony an' all."
I switched the questioning. I had what I wanted, now I needed some insurance. "Where're you living?"
"Around." He said it without embarrassment. "I been in a room on Shuter Street since Friday. Before that I stayed with Kennie at his mother's. She's in an apartment up on Woodbine, close to Gerrard."
"What number?"
He told me, and gave me her name and the fact that she was a widow and worked at a dry-cleaner's on the Danforth. Then he got fearful, covering himself against my following the story down.
"You won't say nothin' to her, eh. I mean, she don't know Kennie's up to nothin'. She thinks he's workin' at the car wash with me."
I got the name and address of the car wash and the fact that he and Kennie had just been released from Burwash where he had served most of two-years-less-one-day for rolling drunks.
"Okay, I'm going to let you go. We're going to walk to the roadway nice and easy and you're going to run to the corner. Run every step of the way or the dog will get you." I patted Sam on the head and he snarled, on cue.
Hudson nodded eagerly and I ushered him past me and walked him to the gate. I opened it and told him, "Run!" and he did. I didn't even stop to watch, just turned away with Sam, back to the trailer.
Willis was writing in a notebook. The little man looked up from the floor and licked his lips. I could tell he had been talking and didn't want his partner to know. He dropped his eyes and waited until Willis snapped his book shut and asked.
"You kick the other guy's ass good?"
"Good." I nodded and he grinned.
"Fine. I was just having a little chat with Kennie here. Now it's his turn, just wait while I show him off the premises."
"That'll be my pleasure," I said. I still didn't trust Willis. But he didn't object. "Just don't put him in the hospital," he said and laughed. I beckoned to Kennie and he came towards the door, head down as if there were cameramen outside, ready to take photos and show them around the store where his mother was respectable.
We walked a few paces and I told him, "Stand there," and he did, as promptly as a Marine grunt under a drill instructor, except that he turned his head towards me, suspiciously.
"We can do this two ways," I explained. "Either you can talk or we can do what the Inspector promised and get my dog to tear you up. Which way's it gonna be?"
"Waddya want?" There was a tight, frightened vibrato to his voice. I could see his buddy had been right. He had been brutalized in the pen and the memory lived with him, night and day. I kept my voice calm as I asked him, "Who sent you to hit the kid and mess up this site?"
He sighed a big theatrical sigh and said, "What kid?" but I hissed at Sam and he growled, moving closer, his teeth gleaming in the light from the roadway. Kennie covered his crotch with both hands, "Okay. It was Tony."
I went through the same routine of questioning but he knew no more. I wasn't surprised. Only cops and judges and hockey players have last names for guys like Kennie. Everybody else is known casually. Tony was Tony, no last name. The only extra information I got was that Kennie had done jobs for him before. "Takin' care of guys who owed him money," he said proudly. He
"Tell me about this Tony. What's he look like?"
Now his hands sprang to life, drawing a picture in the air. He sketched a height with his left hand, perhaps five-ten, then wide-apart hands for wide shoulders. "Biggish guy, dark, moustache, good dresser. Wears a suit. No bastard else in the Millrace ever has a suit on, never."
"How old?"
"Thirty, thirty-five, you can't never be sure with Eyetalians." This was a slip and he bit off the word as soon as he realized what he had said.
"Does he sound Italian?"
He shook his head. "No, Canadian as you 'n' me."
"Then what makes you say he's Italian?"
"He's got one of them, you know, Jesus on a crosses, on a chain round his neck. An' with bein' called Tony an' all."
I switched the questioning. I had what I wanted, now I needed some insurance. "Where're you living?"
"Around." He said it without embarrassment. "I been in a room on Shuter Street since Friday. Before that I stayed with Kennie at his mother's. She's in an apartment up on Woodbine, close to Gerrard."
"What number?"
He told me, and gave me her name and the fact that she was a widow and worked at a dry-cleaner's on the Danforth. Then he got fearful, covering himself against my following the story down.
"You won't say nothin' to her, eh. I mean, she don't know Kennie's up to nothin'. She thinks he's workin' at the car wash with me."
I got the name and address of the car wash and the fact that he and Kennie had just been released from Burwash where he had served most of two-years-less-one-day for rolling drunks.
"Okay, I'm going to let you go. We're going to walk to the roadway nice and easy and you're going to run to the corner. Run every step of the way or the dog will get you." I patted Sam on the head and he snarled, on cue.
Hudson nodded eagerly and I ushered him past me and walked him to the gate. I opened it and told him, "Run!" and he did. I didn't even stop to watch, just turned away with Sam, back to the trailer.
Willis was writing in a notebook. The little man looked up from the floor and licked his lips. I could tell he had been talking and didn't want his partner to know. He dropped his eyes and waited until Willis snapped his book shut and asked.
"You kick the other guy's ass good?"
"Good." I nodded and he grinned.
"Fine. I was just having a little chat with Kennie here. Now it's his turn, just wait while I show him off the premises."
"That'll be my pleasure," I said. I still didn't trust Willis. But he didn't object. "Just don't put him in the hospital," he said and laughed. I beckoned to Kennie and he came towards the door, head down as if there were cameramen outside, ready to take photos and show them around the store where his mother was respectable.
We walked a few paces and I told him, "Stand there," and he did, as promptly as a Marine grunt under a drill instructor, except that he turned his head towards me, suspiciously.
"We can do this two ways," I explained. "Either you can talk or we can do what the Inspector promised and get my dog to tear you up. Which way's it gonna be?"
"Waddya want?" There was a tight, frightened vibrato to his voice. I could see his buddy had been right. He had been brutalized in the pen and the memory lived with him, night and day. I kept my voice calm as I asked him, "Who sent you to hit the kid and mess up this site?"
He sighed a big theatrical sigh and said, "What kid?" but I hissed at Sam and he growled, moving closer, his teeth gleaming in the light from the roadway. Kennie covered his crotch with both hands, "Okay. It was Tony."
I went through the same routine of questioning but he knew no more. I wasn't surprised. Only cops and judges and hockey players have last names for guys like Kennie. Everybody else is known casually. Tony was Tony, no last name. The only extra information I got was that Kennie had done jobs for him before. "Takin' care of guys who owed him money," he said proudly. He
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