Ok, thanks a ton!
“Um... Hi Burt, I’m Jimmyrocket.”
“Ok, little man, I know who you are; now just what is it you need me for?”
“Umm well, (I was nervous, being a first-time sleuth and all) it has something to do with stuff going on at Mashnee, like, the crazy stuff. Like the dead body and finger shit. Important stuff like that. Very confidential stuff.”
At this point Alison was rolling her eyes and trying to grab the phone back. She kicked me in the shin too.
“Also, by the way ...weird question, but, how’s your hearing? Like, conversation -type hearing I mean? Like, in a bar. ’Cause that’s sorta, kinda, I mean exactly what I need.”
“Ok, little man of mystery, I think you mean eavesdropping, don’t ya now?”
“Ok, kid. Know something? You damn straight came to the right place, kid. Overhearing stuff just happens to be one of my specialties. Now, you said this was a paid gig, right?”
Yup.
So, exactly what pay have you gottt onnn yourrr minnnnnd, daddio (yup, he sang that too)?
How’s twenty, my squeamish reply?
How’s thirty, his response
Deal.
Yup. Ok. Deal.
Burt made a quick call to swap dates with that night’s scheduled “entertainer” (a friend of Burt’s, who also played guitar and sang). After that, Burt got a fast confirmation from his friend that it was okay to switch nights and called back.I answered on the first ring, perhaps a smidge overanxious.
“Is this Burt?” my voice sounded dry and tentative.
“Yeah, kid. Ok, Alison’s-little-brother, we’ve got a date to rock and roll. Now, give me those details…and oh by the way little man...it’ll gonna cost you another sawbuck. Hey a big star get’s the big bucks, you understand, right, little dude?”
Sure man. I got a bad case of the “Done Broke Blues” anyway…
Chapter 48
Exposed
Word spread quickly throughout the island.
The authorities had confirmed the identity of the deceased murder victim as Sidney Flavio Valentino, known as “Sid the Kid,” hailing from The Bronx, New York. The late Mr. Valentino, a white male with brown hair and brown eyes, middle aged, of average height and weight, had apparently been tied up and bludgeoned to death with a blunt object on Mashnee Island. The specific murder object had not yet been identified but possibilities included a club, baseball bat, or tire iron. Mr. Valentino was suspected to work for the Gambino Mafia Family running numbers and owned a rap sheet a mile long. He currently had an outstanding arrest warrant for assault and battery.
As the information released had noted, the victim’s body was weighted down with a single concrete block and wedged between several large rocks in an unnatural manner. The victim’s remains had been partially decomposed.
As previously reported, the body had been found by three Mashnee Island teenage residents on a Mashnee beach behind Captains Row and promptly reported to police.
The police forensics and FBI lab techs had formally labeled the death a murder, but they still had no idea where the actual killing had taken place. At present they were still trying to determine whether a locally owned boat had been used to dump the body or if it was dragged down the beach. For the sake of expediency, the media were running headlines, labeling it: “Murder by the Sea,” which I gotta admit, had a catchy ring to it.
The investigation was ongoing…
As was ours!
Chapter 49
Her
We staked out a good, fairly discrete vantage point behind the ballfield’s green wood backstop. It was the usual crew. I had filled them in on everything I was told by the fisherman about “the supposed meeting” taking place in the bar upstairs. (I tried in vain to get the guys to pitch in for the money I had shelled out for our “informant,” but to no avail, skinflints!) Man, we were dying to find out what was going on upstairs and would’ve paid to be a fly on that wall!
Our impatience got the most of us so we decided to periodically send somebody up to the bathroom to have a look-see into the lounge. Naturally, the trick was to not get spotted by Barkeep Ben or one of his stool pigeons, lest the entire plan blow up in our youthful faces.
We huddled together; I think there were six or seven of us there. With nothing gained during these periodic reconnaissance missions, we’d just have to wait for Burt’s report sometime after midnight.
“This is a complete waste of time,” complained The Stick.
“Yeah, nobody’s ever gonna show,” bemoaned Dereck Shifter.
“I think we should be casing a few of these cottages instead,” insisted Big Patrick Flaherty.
Crazy Eddie, always up for risky activities, was quick to agree. “Yeah,” Eddie said enthusiastically, gesturing toward big Patrick. “What he said.”
“Guys, seriously, we could get in big trouble if something goes wrong, and we’ve been in way too much trouble lately,” interjected our den mother, Mary Ellen.
“Hey, screw this. I’m hungry. Can’t we call this off and go get a sundae at Betty Anne’s?” chimed in somebody else, apparently with a substantial case of the munchies.
“Listen, numb-nuts,” growled Tommy. “Calm the frick down... and quit your moaning.” He then nodded over in my general direction giving me a coveted look of approval. “We’ve got a solid game plan going on here and we’re waiting this sucker out.”
“Got it?!”
