Teddy Boy lived in the constant fear that one day soon the goons would walk in around closing time and demand payment. He was prepared to get a broken arm or leg, maybe some cracked ribs. What he wasn’t prepared for was a personal phone call from Sal Bonadello himself.
According to Sal, the call went this way:
“I been looking over your account,” Sal said.
“I’m doing my best, Mr. Bonadello. I just need a little more time.”
“How would you like your—whatcha call—slate cleared?”
Teddy Boy thought about that. “I can smack someone around with a baseball bat for you, but I’m not a professional,” he said. “I never took a life or nothin’.”
“Naw, not like that,” Sal said. “I need some information and a favor. You do a good job, maybe I wipe your slate clean. How would that be?”
“It’d be like getting a new lease on life, Mr. Bonadello. Not to complain, but I’m working day and night just to pay the vig. I haven’t been able to make a dent in the loan.”
“You know this kid, Charlie Beck?”
“Everyone knows Charlie.”
“He a friend of yours?”
Teddy Boy paused. “Not unless you say so, Mr. Bonadello.”
“Good answer. You seen him in your place with any girls?”
“Yeah, sure. He gets a lot of action. Looks sort of like Tom Brady.”
“Ever seen him with a high school girl? Short blond hair, name of Kimberly Creed?”
“Not that I know of,” Teddy Boy said.
Sal said, “Ted, you disappoint me. I was hoping to help you out with your—whatcha call—lethal problem.”
There was a long pause and then Teddy Boy cleared his voice and said, “Well, there is a rumor going around.”
“Ted?”
“Yes sir?”
“Gimme something I can use.”
Chapter 9
Ned Denhollen awoke confused and disoriented. He looked at one arm, then the other, trying to get his bearings. Ned probably remembered setting the alarm, closing up the drugstore and walking across the parking lot toward his car. Now here he was, lying on his back on the floor of a room he couldn’t possibly recognize, and—could this be possible?
His wrists were in cuffs, chained to eyebolts in the floor.
He lifted his head and saw me sitting on a chair positioned above his legs.
Ned lashed out, tried to kick the chair over. And realized his feet were also chained to the floor.
He shook his head angrily, pitched his torso upward a few times in an effort to show he was a fighter, a man not easily intimidated. But in fact Ned was
“Who are you?” Ned wailed. “What do you want? Why have you done this to me?”
I sighed. “Ned, the reason we’re here, I’m worried about my daughter.”
Ned abruptly stopped whimpering. No doubt he thought me a lunatic. “Excuse me?”
“I’m Donovan Creed, Kimberly’s father. I’d shake your hand but...”
Yeah, of course you would, Ned must have thought, but it’s chained to the floor!
Ned studied me, as if trying to place me by inventorying my facial features. For Ned, it was a given I was unstable. But was I capable of murder? He wouldn’t want to find out. “Mr. Creed, I don’t know your daughter and that’s the God’s honest truth. I’m happily married. I think you must have me mixed up with someone else.
“You’re the pharmacist?”
“Yes sir, I work at Anderson’s Drug Store here in Darnell.”
“What makes you think we’re still in Darnell?”
“Oh, sweet Jesus!”
“Ned, let me tell you what’s happening here. You and I are going to put an end to what’s been going on in Darnell. Before it affects my daughter, or her friends.”
“Mr. Creed, I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
I sighed again. “If you think I’m enjoying this…” I paused.
Ned began shivering.
“Are you comfortable, Ned?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I can get you a pillow and blanket if you like.”
Ned shouted, “If you wanted to make me comfortable, you shouldn’t have chained my arms and legs to the floor, you son of a bitch!”
“I can’t fault you for being upset,” I said, “but I need to move things along. I have it on good authority that you’re selling drugs.”
Ned said, “I know your daughter, Kimberly. I’ve filled prescriptions for her. But I would never sell her any illicit drugs. You can ask her, if you don’t believe me.”
“I’m not talking about Kimberly,” I said. Then I thought of something completely off the subject.
“Is Kimberly on the pill?”
Ned thought for a minute. “Not that I’m aware,” he said.
I looked at him a long moment before saying, “It’s really none of my business, but that’s good to know.”
“Sir,” Ned said, “I do sell drugs, I’m a pharmacist. But I only sell prescription drugs.”
I kept my voice steady. “My daughter’s been dating a kid named Charlie Beck. Charlie’s twenty-one, his dad’s a local attorney, Jerry Beck. You know this kid Charlie?”
“No sir, I honestly don’t.” Ned said through gritted teeth as he tried to control his anger.
“Charlie’s a good-looking kid, really popular with the ladies. What I’m saying, Ned: he’s a
