Ten point Two: Car Wash

Ten point Two: Car Wash

A week later, I figure I’m ready to roll. I follow Lenny, AKA Brougham, as he leaves Luigi’s Pizza after picking up the Luigi’s protection payment. It’s actually not owned by Luigi anymore; and Indian guy bought the place three years ago, but he kept the name the same. Guess he was worried that people would think that they’d get curry on their large pie if he called it Ramanuja’s.

Lenny is driving, appropriately enough, an eighties Fleetwood Brougham, riding on twenty inch rims. The car is a mechanical travesty, but it looks shiny and that’s all a guy like Lenny cares about. His world is the system booming in his car, the shine on the paint, the money he just extorted from Luigi’s Pizza, and not pissing off his bosses. This is a shame for Lenny, because I’m about to ruin all four.

He circles Fort Stanwix on to Erie Boulevard until cutting a right into the Burger King. I cruise on past and stand illegally in front of the old folks’ apartment complex. Lenny is probably not expecting a tail, but he did just pick up a nice chunk of change, so he could be on edge. The King must not be in tonight, because it takes Lenny a short glacial age to get his food. He circles back past me, and I can hear the bass thump of his system though his and my windows are up, and my diesel engine idles loudly. I start to shift into gear to follow, but he stops and pulls into the Mobil Station. Even though it’s late and few people are near the gas station, Lenny still manages to drag this out. After filling up, he goes inside to buy a forty and some lottery tickets. If he hits the Powerball, I wonder if he’ll give up his life of crime. The thought does little to amuse me. This is some boring surveillance and I wish I had done this in proper cop fashion with coffee and doughnuts. I expect to stop for his dry-cleaning next, except a guy like Lenny doesn’t worry about extra starch in his collars.

Lenny eventually fills his tank and starts to pull out, but stops and lowers his window to say something to a passing Latina in tight Capri pants and an insufficient halter top. If she is impressed with Lenny, the bandages I gave him from the firehouse, and his car, she hides it well by walking away immediately. Lenny’s scarred face contorts angrily and he shouts something at her, to which she replies by flipping him the bird. Ah, young love.

I do notice, now that the dark tinted window is down, that the older style chrome lock button is popped up. Also, Lenny doesn’t seem to wear his seatbelt.

Apparently, Lenny feels that the problem with the girl is car related, and he pulls into the carwash across the street. I wonder if whoever is really in charge of the gang knows how lackadaisical his courier is. I would think that they’d prefer him to return the money safely to base, so that, say, a guy like me didn’t come up on him while he’s in the car wash and mug him.

He drives into the automatic stall and the machine arm circles his car, coating it in a foamy prewash solution. I pull in behind him. With his windows soaped, he can’t see me coming. Heedless of the water and soap, I run into the wash bay, open his door, and drag him out of the car. He yells and reaches back inside for a gun, but I punch him hard in the temple. If it were a cartoon, his eyes would have spun like a slot machine and displayed two jackpot logos. It’s not. Instead, his eyes roll up and he goes limp in my grasp.

I pop his trunk, check it for weapons, and lock him inside. My big pickup screens us from view, so I have some time to search his car. I find his gun and the envelopes of cash. Looks like I hit the jackpot. If Lenny's boss wanted to turn up the heat on me, not let this thing with Colón go, then I’d see how they liked having their money train derailed.

I think about killing Lenny for what he did to Jerry, but I’m not going to. I can’t do it in cold blood, not yet anyway. Besides, killing him now won’t lead me to his employers. I leave Lenny and his car inside the wash bay, get in my truck, and back out. Back home, I count five grand in cash and let out a slow whistle. It’s the most money I’ve ever held in my hands at one time, and I can think of a few uses for it. Hockey season is coming, and I’d love to see the Rangers in HD, but the big screen will have to wait. If I’m going to continue my war on crime, I’m going to need supplies.