Читать книгу Not Even Past - Dave White - Страница 18

PERTH AMBOY was once a bustling shipping and resort town. History, however, hadn’t been kind to Perth Amboy. The streets started to crumble, and tourists left for the more scenic Jersey Shore.

Today, it was much like the area of New Brunswick beyond the theaters. Untouched, unloved, and falling apart. People sat on stoops, drinking from bottles in paper bags. Martin accelerated at every yellow light to beat the change.

Gentrification hadn’t hit downtown Perth Amboy yet. The government wanted to focus on the ports and bay area. And the media was focused on an ongoing battle toward privatizing the schools. Downtown was littered with bargain stores, bodegas, and caged windows.

Martin parked the car. Donne’s neck seized as if he’d slept on it funny. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he whirled around and looked across the street.

No one around. His old cop instincts were firing.

He rolled his shoulders and glanced at Martin who’d just stepped on to the sidewalk. Martin didn’t seem to notice.

“What’s the deal with you and Eileen?” Donne asked.

Martin turned and glared at him.

“I saw you touch her back. She laughed at your jokes.”

Martin shrugged. “A friend.”

“That’s all?”

“Come on,” Martin said.

“You would think a ‘friend’ would have made you relax a little.”

The bodega was on the corner, the first floor of a three-story apartment building. The awning was yellow, and the name of the store, Convenience, was written in both English and Spanish. They advertised coffee, newspapers, lottery tickets, and cigarettes.

Donne didn’t follow Martin. Instead, he glanced up the street and saw two men in suits walking their way. They stuck out like chocolate chips on a pizza.

“Bill,” Donne said. “We have visitors.”

“Oh. Nice.”

Martin stepped up next to Donne and watched the guys walk. They looked like linebackers, and the seams of their suit were struggling to hold on.

When they were two feet away, they stopped. One guy went for folded arms, the other went for hands in pockets. Other than skin color, the guys looked alike. Close cropped hair, sunglasses, and muscles. Military, Donne guessed.

“Jackson Donne?” the black guy asked.

“Uh-huh.” Donne’s witty banter had gone the way of the rest of his investigative skills.

“Mind coming with us?

“Yeah. Kinda.”

“I’m afraid we insist.” He nodded down the block. “Now, if you’ll follow us.”

“Boy,” Martin said. “You two are flat-out Shakespearean in your conversational skills.”

The two pro wrestlers glanced at each other, as if Martin was an alien.

“Sir?” the white guy said. “Can you get back in your car, please?”

“Yeah …” Martin flashed his badge. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. Do you men have some identification we can see?”

The black guy leaned in close to the badge. “We’re in Perth Amboy. You don’t have jurisdiction here.”

Martin sighed. “You think I can’t make a quick phone call and get ten Perth Amboy comes here tout suite?”

As the man stood back up, Donne could hear the fabric of his suit stretch. The white guy cracked his knuckles.

The bodega must have put on a fresh pot of coffee, because the odor suddenly permeated the air. Behind the two men, a bird landed and pecked at the ground. Donne felt his heart ticking off the milliseconds in his chest.

“So what do we want to do here, boys? Mr. Donne goes, I go with him. We’re … pals.”

The two men looked at each other and seemed to make a wordless decision. He watched the black guy’s muscles relax, and the air seemed between them seemed to change. The two men smiled like customer service employees at a Walmart.

“We will be in touch, Mr. Donne. There’s some business we’d like to deal with. But it’s best handle it between us.”

Donne wanted to ask about Jeanne. He wanted to go with them. But the sweat in his palms and the pounding of his heart stopped him.

The men left, heading back the way they came. Once they were out of earshot, Bill Martin clapped.

“This is the most fun I’ve had in years,” he said. His voice was flat.

Donne checked his phone and didn’t see any texts from Kate. His stomach fluttered and twisted and he thought about texting her. Just to say he was okay. But he didn’t want her to worry. A text would more than likely cause more problems and not ease his nerves.

“They’re in a car about a block and a half down,” Martin said. “They’re not going to go anywhere until we do.”

“Jeanne could be dead by now,” Donne said. “Maybe I should have gone with them.”

“Yeah, then you’d be dead too.” Martin paused. “You know, you’re right. Why don’t you head down the block and take a ride.”

Donne said, “You called me your pal.”

“I didn’t have a better word, and calling you ‘asshole’ would have given them a better sense of who I was.” He looked at his watch. “Or at least given them more information than they had before.”

Martin turned and walked into the bodega.