Part I-Chapter 5: THE SHAMROCK

 

Chapter 5

The Shamrock
(Ó 2007)

The Shamrock was just one of the many local bar and grills that both David and Noel would use as a meeting point. Every one was small, inconspicuous, but most important of all to both of them, had to have great cheeseburgers and cold draft beer. Both of which now had just been placed before them.
 

The Shamrock was just a little Irish Pub, with the bar itself on your right as you entered, a few standing tables by the front window, and the booths to the left. It was somewhat darkened, and you could see the small kitchen grille at the far end of the bar.
 

“It all feels kind of anti-climatic to me,” David said while putting ketchup on his French fries, “Don’t you somehow feel cheated at something?”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Noel answered him, “but we still don’t know if it’s them.’
 

“Oh, it’s them alright, I can feel it. I KNOW it. Same M.O., they fit the descriptions and everything, I’ll bet a years pay that when all the body evidence is compared to them, there will be matches all the way round.”

Noel was adding extra salt to his fries and saw David’s disapproving look that he always ignored, “I had thoughts always that it would be different,” he said, “that we would catch them in the act, or find who they are and bust the door down and drag ‘em both in, right now, the whole thing feels sort of, well, incomplete.”

“And whoever this guy is that walked in on ‘em,” Noel said taking a sip of his beer, “well, he fucked these two up, I mean but good and permanent. I saw the X-Rays, both their spinal cords snapped, and from what the docs say, well, they say that they’re lucky to be alive. Yeah, . . .right!”

“Paralysis?” Noel asked.

“Both, from the neck down,” David answered, “the doctors won’t say for sure yet, but you don’t have to be one to know, not after what I saw. Plus, they’re both minus some teeth, the white one has a concussion, and the Hispanic one has a broken jaw.”

Just then, Noel pointed to the television over the bar, “Oh shit,” he said pointing to it. Noel looked behind himself over his shoulder to see what he was referring too. There on the television, was Sherry Thornton, of the CHICAGO EYEWITNESS news. She was a beautiful black woman and she was standing outside Cook County Hospital and speaking into a microphone with the channel seven logo. The word “LIVE” was in the upper right hand corner, and on the bottom of the screen, the graphics read: SERIAL RAPISTS SUSPECTS MAY BE IN CUSTODY.

Noel yelled to the woman behind the bar, “Hey Bonnie, turn that up will ya?” Bonnie and older heavyset woman with red dyed hair picked up the remote and turned up the volume. Sherry Thornton’s voice then began to fade in.

“ - - -Repeating Joseph and Lynn, two men who were brought into the emergency room here at Cook County are right now in surgery, both are in extremely critical condition, and sources tell me that both men may be the serial rapists that have been terrorizing the entire Chicagoland area for over the past three years. One of the detectives who is in charge of the case was seen here earlier. He did escort them both in the ambulances and has since left the hospital. We do have reporters at Chicago Police Headquarters trying to confirm this report - - -”

Bonnie and a couple of the other patrons sitting at the bar, all who knew both Noel and David turned on their barstools and looked at the both of them as if waiting for them to confirm what they all had just heard. “Looks like it’s them,” David said to all of them.

“What are they in surgery for?” Bonnie asked David.

“Sorry dear, but I can’t go into any of the details now,” he said to her.

“Well, do you think that while they’re at it, they could cut both their pricks off while they got ‘em on the table?” Bonnie asked and they other patrons began to laugh and applaud.

When the cheering died down David said solemnly, “Well, like I said, I can’t go into any details, but I can guarantee you, they won’t have any use for them anymore.”

A look of approval came on all the faces of the bar patrons. While they all continued to watch the news coverage David looked at Sherry Thornton on the screen and told Noel, “Well, it’s a good thing I left when I saw them coming.”

“What do ya mean?”

David then turned his look to Noel, “I mean Sherry there would have caught up to me and may be interviewing me now. Regina would get pissed.”

“Huh?”

“I made the mistake of telling Regina that I thought Sherry Thornton was good looking.”

“Whoa!” Noel said and a big smile came to his face, “big mistake.”

“Man, those African girls,” David said shaking his head back and forth, “they got tempers.”

Noel took another big bite of his burger, chewed it a few times and then washed it down with some of his beer. “Well, we better finish this off, if the news is down at the station they probably got the Boss surrounded, and he’s gonna want us there.”

David watching his partners rather primitive eating habits lifted his beer glass to his lips and said, “Oh no, take your time, let the food get into your stomach at least.”

“Alright, alright, smart ass.” Noel said as we wiped his lips with a paper napkin. “Let’s get going.”

Both men then got up from their table and David looked at the bill. It was for $14.50, so he left a twenty dollar bill on the table, turned and waved to everyone at the bar, “Night all, night Bonnie.”

 “Night guys and thanks, I hope you got those two bastards.” Bonnie said as they went through the door.

 

The night air quickly hit them as they came onto the sidewalk, “Where’s the car?” David asked.

“It’s over on the next block,” Noel answered, pointing just up the street. Both men walked together side by side without saying a word. In no time, they were at the corner that Noel pointed to and made a quick left where their unmarked blue Ford Taurus was parked. Noel took the drivers side as David opened the passenger side door and slipped into his seat. Noel then got in himself, reached into his coat pocket for the keys, put them in the ignition, and started up the car.

David then turned to his partner, now feeling the privacy they had in the car, “We didn’t you know.”

“We didn’t what?”

“Get them,” he said solemnly, “we didn’t get them. Somebody else did.”

 

“I know what you mean,” Noel said as he pulled away from the curb, “I feel both cheated and like a cheater.”

  

“It’s almost like having somebody take your final exams for you,” David said, “only to find out they did it without you knowing.”

“I have to admit it though, I’m kind of glad they got what they got though,” Noel said as he guided the car through the evening traffic, “being in that room, with the girl, and her mom and dad . . . I mean it was different. When we all knew, at the same time that these dirt bags are all fucked up? Well, we were all calm about everything, almost. There was satisfaction in the air, you know?”

“Whoever it is that did it, I wanna thank him, and punch him out at the same time,” David said, now a little more adamant, “it was supposed to be us that caught them, put ’em in jail, then go down to Joliet to watch ’em take it up the ass. But instead, . . . it just ends. Like, like somebody just got tired of this bullshit story over and over again, and just, well, switched it off.”

A silence came over them for a few minutes; they watched the sights and listened to the sounds of the evening city life as they came nearer to the police station.

Noel then broke the silence, “Do you know what the girl told me?”

 “No, what?”

“That the guy who fucked them up? He did all of that in around a half a minute.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Nope, that’s what she told me, she said the one thing she remembers the most was how fast he moved, and the way his voice sounds.”

“He talked to her?”

“No, . . . them. He talked to them. She couldn’t hear what he said, but he did say something to them. She also told me his voice was soft, deep, and eerie.”

David looked at his partner with a little astonishment. Then Noel added, “And I mean he fucked them up, talked to them, and left, . . . all in around a half a minute, according to the girl.”

They were now coming up to the police station and they saw all the trucks from the local news stations were parked out front. Noel then said, “Better take the back entrance.” Then he turned right to go into the alley where they both could enter the station and not be seen by the press.

David then said, “Well, I gotta hand it to this guy.”

“What do ya mean?” Noel asked.

“He may have cheated us out of our glory, but at least he’s kept it all interesting. What time do you got?”

Noel looked at his watch, “It’s about 10:25 in the evening.”

 David looked at his watch also to double check, “Good, it’s well past anytime that they can broadcast, and I know anyone of those sports reporters are not going to let their time get interrupted by anything. By the time we get in there, the broadcasts will be over.”

“We really don’t have anything to give them anyway.” Noel added.

“Even better,” David said as the car came to a stop, Noel then shut the engine off and the quiet blanketed them, “now kids . . . shall we go to the circus?”
 

* * *

He stood to turn off the television set, and the quiet filled the room in which now the only light present was that of the single candle. He then walked to his small kitchen, still in the dark and opened the broom closet. There, on the top shelf was a box of black plastic garbage bags. He took one from the box and then whipped it around to let it open by forcing the air into it. He took off his black hooded sweatshirt and placed it in the garbage bag. He then unlaced his black working boots, and then too placed them in the plastic garbage bag. This was all quickly followed by everything else he was wearing.
 

He then walked naked down the dark hallway to his bathroom where he turned on the water to the shower, choosing to remain in the dark. When the water reached the temperature he preferred he stepped in and let the hot water flow over him.

He remembered what the woman reporter said on the news, that both men are still alive, but in very critical condition. He had satisfaction in knowing that they were not dead.

It was all by chance, . . . it was all fate. He had no idea that those men were who they were. He had knowledge of them before, from the papers and in the news, but he had no idea at the time who they were, he just now heard who they might be from the woman on the news broadcast. He quickly washed and rinsed himself off. Then he stepped out of the shower and stood in the dark bathroom, he reached for the towel that hung on the wall and began to dry himself. Never once turning on any of the lights.
 

  After it all happened, it took him about two hours to get home, after he figured out where he was anyway. He made sure he stayed in the back alleys and side streets, so that no one would ever see him, and that he succeeded in. What amazed him was that he was not frightened at all, and right now, he wasn’t nervous, he was very calm, perhaps it was because he had done everything like he had before. 


Plus, he knew, he was being watched over and protected. 

What he tried to suppress in himself was how it felt good again. How good it felt to strike the enemy swiftly, then leave nothing of yourself behind you. He thought of the look on the girls face right before he left her there, the shock, the fright, and then if you looked deeper, . . . the gratitude.
 

He then went into his bedroom, still remaining in the dark and dressed himself in clean underwear, pajama bottoms and an undershirt. He found his rubber sandals and put them on, and then went into the kitchen once again to retrieve the garbage bag contain the clothing that he had just placed in it.
 

Fate he thought, the whole thing was just a strange act of fate, and he came across those men and the girl just by chance. He reached down to pick up the garbage bag when he stopped and froze for one second.
 

He wondered, “was it fate?” Something had made him stop, something he felt guided him.
 

He picked up the garbage bag, tied it securely and quietly walked over to his doorway. He peered through the eyepiece on the door and checked down both sides of the hallway, there was no one around. He opened the door and peered around both side of the hallway, all clear. He took the garbage bag and turned to his left. He had to go to the end of the hallway to the room that housed the garbage chute. As he walked down the hallway, he once again went into his battle mode, walking stealthily, not making a sound, even with the garbage bag. He heard the sounds of televisions, radios, and the inhabitants in the other apartments of the hallway having either conversations or arguments.
 

Once in the room, he dropped the garbage bag down the chute, listened to it as it traveled down the three floors, and heard the thud as it hit the large trash compactor in the basement. He then heard the whirring sound as the machine turned on to compress the garbage in with the rest that was already there. As luck would have it, the garbage was to be picked up by city sanitation in the morning.
 

He then went back to the doorway and looked down the hall, still all clear. He quickly and again stealthily returned to his apartment. At the doorway, he again looked both ways, and silently entered his home. He noiselessly locked the door behind him.
 

Now, for the first time since his return home, he felt exhausted. He slowly walked into his living room, which was still dark, except for the light of the one candle. He went into his bedroom and sat on the edge of his bed, the comfort of the mattress and his room were comforting to him. He looked out his bedroom door and saw the dim flickering light of the candle as it burned. He then bowed his head, and again, as always, he began to cry.
 

He sat and cried for a few minutes, then he reached over to the box of tissues that was always next to the clock radio. He wiped his eyes dry, and cleared his nose. He then took a couple of deep breaths, then slowly backed his body onto the mattress to lie down.
 

He looked up to his ceiling, and his thoughts returned to the moment when he stopped in the alley, convinced that there was “something” that made him stop, to do what it was that he did.
 

As he tried to bring his mind to figure out what the 'something’ was, . . . he drifted off to sleep.