MURDER TAKES TIME

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Roach Races

 

Wilmington—19 Years Ago

It was an early morning meeting and everyone was there: Tony, Frankie, Mick, Paulie and me. Tony recruited Paulie because we needed extra help. I wouldn’t go so far as to call Paulie stupid, but Tony manipulated him like Gepetto did Pinocchio. 

I got everyone’s attention then laid out the plan. “We do it just like the track. We’ll make odds and take bets.” 

“People in this neighborhood will bet on anything,” Tony said.

Bugs lit a cigarette and handed one to Mick. “Yeah, Shoes and Patsy bet on what color gum balls come out of the machine—twenty bucks a pop.”

“Who’s gonna catch the roaches?” Mick asked.

“Bugs is—who do you think?” I said.

Five minutes later, Bugs headed down to DiNardo’s basement with a jar. He was supposed to get eleven roaches, ten for the race and one extra. He came back within twenty minutes, holding a jar full of frantic, nasty roaches. 

“Twelve,” he said. “Got an extra one in honor of Suit.”

We laughed our asses off. Suit didn’t like the number eleven. There were eleven kids in his family and he lived on the eleventh house on the street, number 1111. “Too many elevens” Suit’s father always said, and Suit took it to heart. If he was eleventh in line at school, he’d push somebody out of the way so he could be tenth. He wouldn’t even play football because there were eleven guys on the team. Suit avoided elevens like Paulie Shoes did thirteens.

We all got a good laugh, but then got to work. Tony’s job was to write the numbers on small pieces of paper, which Paulie glued onto the roaches’ backs. Bugs painted a small circle on the concrete, about the size of a coffee can, then another one about eight feet in diameter, making it almost four feet from the coffee can to any part of the circle. This was no scientific calculation, it was dictated by the space we had on the German kid’s concrete pad. The concept was simple: Suit would put the roaches in the coffee can, then we’d turn it upside down in the little circle. When he lifted it, the roaches would scatter, heading in all directions. The first one to cross the line won. 

“How do we do the odds?” Suit asked. 

Never being too good at math, things like odds boggled Suit’s mind.  

“We should ask Doggs,” Tony said. 

I nixed that idea. “He’ll be betting. Can’t trust him if he stands to make money.”

“Who we gonna trust?” Tony asked.

“Sister Thomas.” Bugs said, and acted like it was a good idea. 

I smacked him in the head. “You’re gonna ask Sister Thomas to calculate odds for our races? What the hell is in your head?”

“Doesn’t she always say to put what we learn to practical use?”

Tony was all smiles. “He’s right, Nicky. Nothing more practical than this.” 

“You ask her. I’ve had my beatings for the month.”

Tony and Bugs braved Sister Thomas’ wrath and discovered not only was she willing to help, she was well-versed in race-track odds and how to calculate them based on previous performance. This made us wonder about the life of nuns in general, and of Sister Mary Thomas in particular.