Bomber's Law Read Free

passenger cars salvaged three decades or so before from the shells of moribund New England railroads expiring in the lethal embrace of Conrail, pulled by two antiquated GM diesel engines—ex-Boston & Maine; New York, New Haven & Hartford—demeaned in their fourth and fifth decades of sturdy service by broad midriff stripes of faded purple paint, Easter egg-accented with yellow, passed under the road and stopped briefly at the Plexiglas-shielded, aluminum-framed passenger platform next to the tracks emerging from the southeasterly side of the bridge.
    Brennan craned his neck to look in turn at each of the semitrailer-size outside rearview mirrors he had mounted on the leading edges of the doors of the Blazer. He saw no one. The train started up again almost at once and pulled away. He looked at his watch. “Six forty-three,” he said. He nodded. “Looks like this’s a regular mornin’, he’s goin’ in at the regular time, the time that he usually does.”
    â€œMeaning: seven forty-eight,” Dell’Appa said resentfully.
    â€œUsually, yeah,” Brennan said, settling back again into the seat.“That’s when he usually does. But like I say, you’re never sure. Sure in advance is what I mean, exactly what he will do. What is is if he misses the ones that come before that—well, not
misses
, exactly, because if he wasn’t here to take a particular one, any particular train, it wasn’t like he
tried
to, tried to make it but he didn’t; it’s because he didn’t
want
to, want to take it, take that particular train. Because that’s the way he usually is: regular as regular clockwork. But if they’re up early for some reason, like Joey hasta be somewhere or something, some distance away from here, or it’s one of those unusual days, like I say, unusual but they do happen, when he himself hasta be in early himself. And then it’s been known to happen that he will catch one of the earlier ones. So that’s why we hadda be here. In case he did that today. Because then otherwise you wouldn’t’ve been here to see Joey, when he comes by here with him.”
    â€œYeah,” Dell’Appa said, folding his arms across his chest. “Joey. I
thought
it was him we were after. This Buddy shit, I didn’t know from. So we really are here to see Joey.”
    â€œWell, you have to do it,” Brennan said. “You know you have to do that, if you’re gonna be followin’ the guy, see what the guy looks like and so forth. And his car, and so forth and so on.”
    â€œI know what a goddamned old gray Cadillac Sedan de fuckin’ Ville fuckin’
looks like
, for Christ fuckin’ sakes,” Dell’Appa said. “Honest to Mother of
God.
”
    â€œWell, sure, but not this one,” Brennan said, “not necessarily his one, you don’t, because those things, they don’t all look alike. Especially when they get that old there. It all depends what kind of care they had taken care of them along the line there, you know?
After
they were new. Everybody knows that. You know that. It’s when they’re all brand new, before anybody hardly even drove them, then they all look the same. Like each other. But now, eight, ten years later, well, the paint and all that stuff? That’s when it all depends. And consequently they don’t all now, they don’t all look the same at all now. So you couldn’t be sure if you had the right one, if I didn’t show you which one.”
    â€œBob,” Dell’Appa said slowly and softly, “I know the guy’s registration, remember? I know the numbers, the numbers that’re on the registration and the license plate that he has to have attached to therear of the vehicle in a prominent and easily visible position, right? I
know
all those things; these things I already know. So if I went to the place where he ordinarily goes, where