Halfway to Hell

Halfway to Hell Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

O’Malley’s was an Irish pub on Sixth Street. The owner was Russian, the bartender was Italian, and the waitresses were Mexican, but on Saint Paddy’s Day they put on the green and toasted the old country with the best of them.

            Today was just a regular day, though in my case that ain't saying much. Just me and a few office workers downing a quick one before hurrying home to the wife and kids. I saw Eddie as soon as I walked in. He was sitting in a booth at the back and I slid in opposite. A waitress came towards me but I waved her away.

            ‘He’ll have a beer,’ Eddie said. She smiled and nodded and went to fill the order. I raised my eyebrows in a silent question. ‘You’ll need something to take the edge off,’ he said.

            ‘Ain't that the truth.’

            ‘Had a hard day, kid?’

            ‘That doesn’t even begin to describe it.’

            ‘It gets easier from here on in. Or harder, depending on your point of view.’

            Before I had chance to ask him what the hell he was talking about, and, by the way, what the hell has happened to the entire freakin’ world, the waitress put a beer in front of me. I waited till she was out of earshot, then took a swallow. It tasted like sump oil. I was getting tingling sensations in my hands and feet and I had the chills.

            ‘Wanna tell me what’s going on, Eddie?’

            ‘How much have you figured out already?’

          ‘Oh, not much. Just that someone’s trying to frame me for a murder I didn’t commit. Looks like I got a career in movies I knew nothing about. Some joker keeps switching houses on me, that is, when they’re not using my head for batting  practice. I blacked out for maybe a month and, oh, yea, you’re supposes to have had your head blown off by some punk kid over half a century ago. How am I doing so far?’

            ‘Lousy. Beats me how you ever made a living as a PI.’

            ‘Enough with the jokes, Eddie. You left that note for me. You must have known I would find it, so, what gives? Am I going crazy or what, because it sure feels like it.’

            ‘Remember this?’ he shoved a cardboard box across the table to me.

            ‘Yea, sure I remember it. You gave it to me right after I took this case. The day I saw that kid in the leather jacket in your shop.’

            ‘Forget about him. Think about the package. Do you rember what’s inside the box?’

            ‘Sure I do. It’s…’ But I didn’t remember. I had no idea why I went to Eddie’s shop that day, no idea what he had given me.

            ‘You remember opening it, right?’ he asked.

            ‘Yea, yea, I opened it.’

            ‘So you must know what’s in it.’

            ‘Sure. It’s…’ Nothing.

            ‘Open it now,’ he said.

            ‘Now?’

            ‘Unless you’re scared.’

            ‘Why would I be scared? It’s just a box.’

            ‘So open it.’

            My hands shook as I pulled the box towards me. I was sweating like a hog but my teeth were chattering with the cold.

            ‘Open it,’ said Eddie, softly.

            ‘I will, I will. Just give me chance will ya?’   I fumbled with the lid and finally flipped it open. All that was inside was a folded up newspaper.

            ‘Take it out,’ Eddie said. ‘Read it.’

            I took the paper out of the box and unfolded it, laying it out on the table, smoothing out the wrinkles. It was a copy of The Bugle. It had a banner headline:

KILLER DIES AT MIDNIGHT

            I looked up at Eddie. ‘Is this supposed to mean something to me?’

            ‘Check out the date.’ 

            Under the masthead was the date: 20th July 1956. I frowned. ‘That’s three months from now,’ I said.

            ‘Pretend it’s a fortune cookie,’ he said. ‘Read it.’

            I read the opening sentence.

            The execution of notorious murderer Mac Jordan is scheduled to take place tonight at midnight.

            I stopped and looked up at Eddie. ‘Read the rest of it,’ he said. ‘It gets better.’

            Jordan, who was found guilty of murdering heiress Didi DiMarco, showbiz agent George Carter and actress Rachel Montgomery, is believed to also be involved in up to a dozen more deaths over a ten year period. Assistant DA Perry Ansconi is quoted as saying: ‘We could wait for more evidence to come to light, but why bother? Dead is dead and good riddance. I hope he fries in Hell for all eternity.’

            Eddie leaned forward. ‘Welcome to the future, kid.’