By L.D. Nuetzmann

“Oh my goodness!” Miss Maisie blurted out with all the confusion and wonder of a small child. “What happened?” “Huh?” I bounced back, still hazy from a few dark hours prior. “Your face.” She replied with a certain distinguished befuddlement. “What in the world happened to your face? You look like you got in a fight with a garbage truck!” I made my way to the window where a ghostly, half formed doppelganger looked back at me. I casually said, “Oh, yeah, It looks worse than it feels. Best you don’t think on it, ‘n’ leave mine to me Miss Maisie.” “Alright, alright.” she said, giving me a half formed, half hearted glance of disapproval.

Miss Maisie may be a full fledged busy body, but she’s not wrong. I was sportin’ the kinda mug that could make even the bruisers down at Santino’s Casino pull a double take. I remember heading to Hobo Harry’s with Joey Five Fingers last night. We pulled a full slice out from under a couple back alley poker games and headed out ‘fore they got wise. I guess you could say we were celebrating a job well done, or, maybe a con well pulled? Regardless, I have a bad feeling Joey may have hung onto my ride after he dumped me off last night.

I dropped down the fire escape so as to avoid any more malformed glances from Miss Maisie. As soon as I hit gravel, I could see that my fine Cadillac was nowhere in sight. Across the alleyway I spied Sammy Meskin, a real hot head from way back. “Sammy!” Sammy turns and gives me a quick once over. “What the hell hap…” “Yeah, yeah. My face, I know, don’t worry about it.” I said to him, brushing it off. I wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. Sammy gave a quick look around as though the cops were on his tail. “You lookin’ for some slap? Might take the pain away from whatever’s goin’ on with your face.” Sammy whispered out like a secret at a sleepover. “No, I don’t want any fuckin’ slap. I’m lookin’ for my ride.” “Your ride? I don’t know nothin’ ’bout that. Maybe you… shit! Cops! Good talkin’ to ya.” Sammy ducked back into the back door of the California Closet as the cops approached.

The shorter of the two cops sportin’ a limp held back on one of the apartment’s corners. The taller cop, continued toward me. As he got closer, I realized I was lookin’ at Sheriff Woodward. “Oh, hey sheriff.” I says to him after a certain amicable fashion. We attended the same high school and held ourselves on speaking terms ever there after. “Hey Jimmy.” The sheriff says in jaded tone. “You got somethin’ real for me chief?” I asked him with a bit o’ hesitant fervor. “City cops caught a runner last night down Sunset.” He said gesturing to the man in blue standing watch behind him. “He jumped outta your Cadillac and took to the alleyway. I told ’em it didn’t sound like you ‘n’ anyway you don’t match the man’s description.” “Aww hell Joey.” I spat out without giving it much thought. “Joey Five Fingers?” The Sheriff asked. I remained silent for a moment. Joey’s a real pain in the ass, but I wasn’t about to accuse the man of stealing my wheels. “Yeah… me ‘n’ Joey was throwin’ back doubles last night at Harry’s.” I explained. “Ha, ha. Oh yeah? You step on some alley rats? How much you knock ’em over for?” The sheriff asked as a sly grin crept onto his face. “Shit… wish I knew. Things are still a little foggy on my end.” I says to him with a genuine sincerity. “Well, the thing is…” the sheriff says, scratching his head. “City police had to impound your Caddy.” God damn it Joey! I thought to myself. “What the hell did he do as to necessitate city police runnin’ him down?” “More like what didn’t he do.” The sheriff said with a new breath of authority. “Cops clocked him speeding down a side street with a glass pipe in his mouth and sunglasses on in the middle of the night. When they tried to pull him over, he gave chase down Sunset ’til your Caddy ran out o’ gas and then he took to his feet.” The sheriff paused a moment, “He uh… he’s still at large.” “The cops impound my ride?” I asked, as though I didn’t already know the answer. “Yep, of course. Can’t hand it over just yet neither. At least, not until we get bracelets on Joey. You see him though, you give me a ring an’ we’ll come drag him in alright?” “Yeah, yeah.” I said as a pulse of sharp pain shot from the top of my skull, down my right eye and out my ear. The sheriff began heading back to his cruiser when he paused and looked back. “Oh, and stay in town for a while yeah? Can’t have you runnin’ off ’til we get this thing in the bag.”

As the sheriff and his boy in blue headed back to their cruiser, I stood in the gravel pit my landlord calls “off the street parking”. I closed my eyes looking up to the clear blue sky feeling the warmth of the morning sun on my face, then headed back to my abode. I crash landed on the old sofa taking up a significant portion of my tiny living space. As soon as I began to drift off I hear a knock at the door followed by a whisper. “Hey! You home? It’s Joey.” I rolled over onto my left side, shut my eyes once more and drifted off into a peaceful slumber.