The Last Stop

[Robbie C.]

@Dadrian and @mjcmmv, you asked for it. Here it is. To get Out Where the Busses Don't Run you have to go to The Last Stop.

 

FEBRUARY 18, 1979 - EVENING

“Please! You can’t do this!”

At least that’s what I think he would have screamed if he could. But he couldn’t move. It took some of the fun out of it, but at least I was closing the case on Tony Arcaro.

Marty grunted under his share of the load, but never missed a step. Can’t ask for a better partner, even if he was an ambitious little prick most of the time. They stuck him with me right after I moved over to Vice, and we’ve seen it all. Well, maybe not until tonight.

Putting him there was my idea. The building was still shut down, wrapped in yellow police tape like a present at a party. Odds are it’ll stay that way, too, if they can’t contact the owner. I couldn’t think of a more fitting place to put him, really. After all, Tony was why the little apartment building was taped off. One of his mistresses had stepped out on him, and he’d had her killed and her room burned. Tony just couldn’t pass up a public message. Hell, it served the little punk right.

Can’t say the whole thing was my idea, though. Not really. Have to give old Miss Thomkins and seventh grade English some credit. She was the one who made me read “A Cask of Amontillado.” That Poe was ahead of his time. No question.

But now’s not the time for memory lane. I turned and looked back at Marty. “Almost there, buddy.”

He nodded, but there was some doubt in his voice. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Hell, yes. Three years of work wasted because this maggot had some high-priced lawyer find a loophole? Not a chance. No loopholes for you now, Tony!” I shouted to the rug, knowing he could hear me but couldn’t respond. I could feel that anger spinning up in me again, just like it had the day they’d put me on medical leave. It was like it happened yesterday.

 

THREE MONTHS EARLIER

 

The lieutenant said he wanted to see me. No mention of why, just the note taped to the phone when Marty and I clocked in for the early shift. He looked at the paper and shrugged. “Maybe he wants to give you a hug.”

But I wasn’t so sure. The case against Tony Arcaro, the one Marty Lang and I had been building for three years, was starting to totter. Or, to be more accurate, the damned DA’s office was screwing it up so badly there might not be anything left. We’d worked double shifts for over two years, giving up damned near everything for that case. Just thinking about it made me want to throw something across the room. “I’ll bet it’s about the Arcaro case.”

Marty shrugged. “It’s out of our hands, Hank. Has been for months now. We gave the DA everything we could.”

“Yeah, and he’s screwing it up so damned bad I don’t know where to start.” I knew my voice was rising from the way the other cops in the office were looking our way, but I didn’t care. “We had the goddamned warrants for all those taps. Documented every damned CI buy. It was all by the book! I put in so much goddamned overtime I’m surprised Lorraine even remembers what I look like!”

“Weldon! My office!”

I turned, ready to start screaming at him, too, but stopped short. Shouting at Lieutenant O’Brien never ended well. Not even for me. But I wasn’t going quietly. “Yeah, yeah. Keep your damned panties on, boss.” Then I dropped into one of those voices Marty’s kid loved and I knew annoyed the crap out of O’Brien. “Coming, master…”

“Don’t start with the cheap horror movie bullshit, Weldon. I ain’t in the mood.” O’Brien was one of those cops who thought every cop should chew cheap cigars and talk like they just crawled in off a three-day drunk in Brooklyn. That line might buy him some time in Homicide, but in Vice he was just an amateur.

“What’s so damned important you had to interrupt my Arcaro lecture?”

The smile on his face made me want to slug him. Or maybe I was just imagining the smile. “That’s the case I wanted to talk to you about. Seems the DA’s having some trouble with the evidence.”

“Trouble? What damned trouble? Marty and I tied that damned case up for him with a bow and that pretty paper with the airplanes he likes so much! How the hell did that little drizzle-ass mess this up?”

“Easy, Weldon. I know you’re decorated and all that, but that don’t give you the right…”

“Three years of work gives me the damned right!” I was up in his face by now, jabbing him in his barrel chest with my index finger. “Three damned years of sweat and blood! That prick whacked two of my CIs! We have him on tape authorizing one of the hits! And you weren’t there when we pulled Louie out of the canal. The bastard chained him to a cinder block with just enough slack so his fingers could break the surface of the water. And we got a confession for that one linking it Arcaro. What the hell else does that asshole need?”

“What about the warrants?”

“All signed by judges! And drafted by his damned office!” Part of me knew I should stop. Step back and breathe. Something. But I couldn’t. The thought of that scumbag walking away from this like he had every other bust made something turn in me. “How much are his people paying for this to go sour?”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“How much is the DA being paid to let this case slip away?”

“You’re out of line, Weldon! I oughta suspend your ass right now!”

“Go ahead and try! The chief would be up your ass so fast you wouldn’t know what hit you!”

He leaned back then, and I should have seen it in his eyes. But I was too pissed to think straight. Lorraine always gave me crap about that. ‘Control your temper, Hank’ she’d say. But I never listened worth a damn. “You’re tired, Hank. You need a break.”

“Damn right I do!”

“Glad you agree.” He reached into his desk and pulled out some papers. I knew I’d been had. “This form puts you on medical leave effective immediately. Sign here and go home.”

I looked from his blocky face to the paper and back again. Then I remembered those department-mandated medical check-ups. Hadn’t though much about it at the time, but now it started to click. I’d been had, and there was no way out of it. I didn’t even look as I signed the form, just kept my eyes locked on his until I guessed I’d scrawled something close to my name. Then I thew the pen down on his desk. “I’ll go. But don’t let that moron screw up my case.”

Marty looked up from his desk. “You look pissed, Hank.”

“The bastard put me on medical leave!”

“Is that really so bad? Go spend some time with Lorraine. Hell, come by for dinner if you like. Marty Junior would love that.”

I nodded, knowing he was right and also knowing I wouldn’t do it unless Lorrain insisted. “How much did you know about this?”

“O’Brien dragged me in and started asking questions. If you were tired. How much the case ate at you. Just the normal shitty stuff bosses ask when they’re pretending to care about their cops.” He shrugged. “I didn’t think much about it.”

“Yeah. Sure.” I wanted to be pissed at him, but I just didn’t have it in me. Marty was a nice enough guy. He probably thought he was doing me a favor. And maybe he was. Damned shame it was a year too late.

 

JANUARY, 1979

 

The damned case wouldn’t let go. Hell, I’d known that as soon as I walked out of the Vice office. It was all I could think about. I bought every damned newspaper that covered the trial, clipping out articles and driving Lorraine nuts scattering newsprint scraps all over the kitchen. Medical leave turned into a kind of house arrest. I just sat and read and watched the TV news, feeling the case slipping away day by day.

And there were the damned appointments. Part of the leave thing, they told me. Ya gotta check in with the head-doctors, Hank. Let them see how you’re doing. Yeah, like I believed that line. It wasn’t bad, so long as I kept my head on straight and didn’t let them get me started on Arcaro. But as the case kept slipping it was harder and harder not to talk about it. How could they not see what I saw? But then I’d do some routine from The Maltese Falcon or some of the Vincent Price movies based on Poe stories and they’d pretend to laugh with me. But they never stopped scribbling in their damned notebooks.

Marty tried to keep me in the loop. We were partners, after all. He’d come by a couple of times a week and we’d drink beer and talk. Go back through case notes and see what we might have missed, what might have fallen through the cracks to make the DA’s case weaker. But no matter how hard we looked we couldn’t find a damned thing. And that’s when I knew.

He looked at me like I’d just confessed to sleeping with a sheep. “You really think Arcaro has something on the DA?”

“How the hell else do you explain it?” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lorraine shaking her head. She did that more and more any time I got started about the case or Arcaro. “We gift-wrapped that thing for them.”

“Yeah, and I know how you feel about Louie and all.” Marty took a swig of his beer. It didn’t bother me that he’d never liked Louie. He had been a slug, but he was our slug and he’d stuck his neck out to give us dirt on Arcaro’s organization.

“That’s only part of it.” I turned and smiled at Lorraine, hoping it would be enough. “Almost done with shop talk, honey. I swear.” She just shook her head and walked into the kitchen.

“She’s pissed, Hank. You’d better…”

“Just makes it worse. She’ll get over it.” At least I hoped she would. But then the bug bit again. “Marty, I gotta know. Is the case over?”

He sighed. “Office gossip says so. But I don’t know.” He looked down at his beer can. “What do we do if it falls apart?”

Now that was a question that got my juices flowing. Medical leave had given me time to think. About lots of things. But mostly about what I’d do if Arcaro walked. And just as important what I wouldn’t do. “He walks, I’ll bet he’ll be lookin’ for me right outside the courthouse to gun him down.” I chuckled as Marty’s eyes went wide. “But that’s why I don’t do that, see?” The Edward G. Robinson voice always made him laugh. “Arcaro likes things big, see? A big show, see? Well, he ain’t gettin’ one from old Hank Weldon.” And that’s when the idea hit. “Maybe he’ll just disappear.”

“No way he’s gonna do that. He’ll want to parade around, bragging to every TV station about how he beat us.”

“Not if he gets in that big black Caddy he loves so much and just disappears.” Thoughts were coming fast now, bouncing around in my head like ping pong balls dropped in a metal box. “Just poof! And he’s gone.”

“That’s quite a trick.”

“Yeah, but just think how pissed he’d be. The great Tony Arcaro disappears into thin air!” I clapped my hands like a cheap sideshow magician, but the idea was taking root. I figured by now I knew the man better than he knew himself. All those long days and nights watching him. Listening to him cut his deals and make his plans. Cleaning up his messes like a good cop, just waiting for him to slip up.

I could feel Marty watching me. “Go easy, Hank. They’re just looking for an excuse to ease you out now.”

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” No, Rhett Butler wasn’t one of my better impersonations. But the sentiment was there. If Arcaro walked, what was the point in being a cop? If he could buy his way out from under the mountain we’d built for him, why waste more time with it? Why chase Constanza and the rest if their boss could flip the DA the bird and walk? I hoped that wouldn’t happen, but I’d been around long enough to read between the lines in the papers and hear what the TV news pukes weren’t saying.

“Just something to think about, partner.” He finished his beer and started looking around. “And I’d better get going. The kid’s got one of those school things tonight. No way I can slip out of that one.”

I just nodded, walked him to the door, and muttered some crap about how I’d see him later. But my mind was still going ten thousand miles an hour. Planning.

I could hear Lorraine banging around in the kitchen. A sure sign she was pissed at me again. I wanted to go in there, to tell her I was sorry. But it was no good. All the funny voices in the world couldn’t make up for those missed nights. And even if it could I could see Louie’s gaping mouth as they hauled him out of the canal. Or the dead eyes of the six guys Arcaro had gunned down for trying to muscle in on his coke trade. Usually I saw them in my dreams, but now I saw them during the day. Especially Louie.

 

FEBRUARY 17, 1979

 

The writing was on the wall, both for me and the case against Tony Arcaro. One of my old buddies in personnel clued me in on the medical retirement they were planning to cram down my throat. Maybe stopping by to shout at O’Brien wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had, but what choice did I have? They were flushing my damned case down the crapper and letting that weasel walk.

Marty Lang, bless his trusting little heart, still had faith. Or he said he did. But he came over less and less, and I could see him positioning himself to move on once they sent me to the rubber room. No way I could hold it against him, though. He had a family to think of, and night classes he’d been taking with an eye toward law school or some such crap. The boy was a climber.

Me? I looked down at my glass of bourbon and smiled. I was on the way out. Out of a job. Out of my marriage most likely. And if the boys with the notebooks were right, out of my mind. But as far as I was concerned I’d never been thinking clearer.

The bourbon was a prop. I hadn’t touched a drop, just kept the glass moving at the bar while I watched Arcaro’s regular driver shooting pool in the back of the bar. I’d tailed the bastard before, for weeks sometimes, so I knew his routine better than he did. He’d be back there for another ten, fifteen minutes and then he’d head for the big Caddy. And that’s when I’d make my move.

It was hard to leave the booze in the glass, though. I’d gotten word earlier that afternoon from another old friend in the DA’s office that they were going to drop all charges tomorrow. The DA was claiming some kind of technicality, but even my friend had his doubts. “You didn’t hear it from me, Hank,” he said over the phone, “but it’s a screw job through and through. Better luck next time, right?”

But there wouldn’t be a next time. Not for me. Three years and some good lives wasted just so that bastard could walk. I’d slammed the phone down hard enough to break it, the crash echoing through the empty house. Lorraine was gone. She’d moved out last week, saying something about needing ‘space’ to work things out. I didn’t try to stop her. What’s the point? And her not being around made what I needed to do easier.

Looking back, I saw the punk miss another easy shot and chuckled. But the plan kept turning in my head. It had taken root that day I was drinking beer with Marty and never stopped growing. I had it all mapped out now, right down to the last second. Arcaro loved the spotlight, the big show. I’d make sure he never had another one.

I left a minute or so ahead of the driver, just in case someone was babysitting him. They hadn’t before, but tomorrow was the boss’s big day and that might change things. I wasn’t aware I was holding my breath until it hissed out between my teeth when he came out of the bar alone. Hands jammed in his pants pockets, he didn’t even look up as he turned the corner and headed for the car.

Ten seconds and I was on him, my backup .38 jammed in his ribs. “Easy there, pal. No sudden moves, see?” Maybe he’d like my Edward G. Robinson, too. “Just stay cool, see? Walk on over to the car and unlock it. Leave the keys in the door, see?”

“You know who my boss is? He’ll kill you for this.”

“You’re a smart kid. Well, actually you’re not. And your boss is on the way out, see?” I watched as he unlocked the driver’s side door, noticing his head shift as he tried to measure angles. “Lights out, pal!” I clipped him just behind the ear with the heavy butt of the revolver and he slumped to the warm asphalt like a sack of flour.

He had a gat, like they all did; a cheap snub-nose stuffed in the back of his pants. Grabbing the keys, I unlocked the back door and stuffed him in. “Come on, Bobby. Too much to drink again? What’s Sheila gonna think when I pour you through the mail slot?” It was thin babble, but it kept the passers-by happy and gave me cover to load up the car.

The Caddy was black, big, and road like a damned barge. I fired her up and headed for an empty warehouse I knew down close to the docks where a man could camp out for a day or two without drawing much notice. The driver started groaning a bit, so I whacked him again to keep him quiet. I’d tie him up and leave him for some watchman to find. No point in killing him.

“Stick to the plan, Hank,” I muttered as I hauled him out and tied him up in a corner of the warehouse that was reasonably clean and free of rats. Going through his pockets, I found what I’d been looking for and grinned. Unfolding the slip of paper I read “Dade County Courthouse 11 AM” in block letters. That would be Arcaro’s coming out party. Except it would be Hank Weldon driving his carriage and not Prince Charming trussed up in the corner.

Walking over to the opposite side of the warehouse I picked up the old gym bag. One thing about being a Vice cop…you got to meet people. All kinds of people. One phone call told me what I needed, and another got what I needed. It was like I always told the new guys. Look after your informants and they’ll look after you. Reaching in, I checked the contents by feel. It was all there. Now it was just a matter of waiting.

 

FEBRUARY 18, 1979

 

I hadn’t really slept a wink that night. I’d start to drop off in the front seat of that big car and wake up seeing Louie’s face in front of me. His eyes big and bulging like they’d been when they hauled him out of the canal. But that was only part of it. My mind just wouldn’t slow down about the plan. I’d really outdone myself this time. It was perfect.

The only thing missing was taking down the rest of his damned crew. But I had an idea about that, too. It might take some time, but the things most worth doing often took the most time. I can’t remember who said that, or if I just made it up and claimed someone else said it first.

Looking at my watch, I saw it was time to go. Had a call to make, and I didn’t want to be late for the big man’s coming out party. No, sir. I walked over and gave the driver another love-tap to keep him quiet, and then made a final adjustment to that big black Caddy. Child-proof back doors are a great thing. Just like those damned tinted windows and the divider between the front and back seats. He wouldn’t see me until it was too late.

There was a pay phone just around the corner, and Marty sounded tired when he picked up. “Hank? What the hell, man? I figured you’d be drunk out of your mind right now. Arcaro…”

“Yeah, yeah. A little bird told me he’s flying the coop today. But I’ve made other arrangements.” I stopped for a moment, not sure if I wanted to read him in. But I figured I owed him that much. “You want that guy put down, right?”

“You know I do, Hank.”

“And you’re in it all the way?”

“I’m your partner, man.”

“Good. Look for a big black Caddy in about ten minutes. I’ll pick you up.” Hanging up the phone, I pulled on the damn driver’s cap and felt the the Skipper from Gilligan’s Island. Hell, Marty was almost skinny enough to be Gilligan. I’d even called him little buddy a time or two. But now it was time to go to work.

He didn’t say a word as I explained the plan. “All you’ll need to do is help with the wall,” I finished. “And maybe moving him in. I’ll do the rest.”

“Hank…are you sure?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been about anything.” My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “I keep seeing Louie’s face, Marty. Night after night. We told him we’d keep him safe and then they tied him to that cinderblock. And we handed it to the DA with a bow around it. We let Louie down. And his chippie…Helen I think her name was. The one he burned up. We knew that was coming.” I slammed my hand on the wheel. “Three years! God knows how much tape! And they let him walk! LET him walk!”

“I get it, Hank. But this will end your career.”

“It’s already over. They’re pushing me out on a medical.” I grinned under that silly hat. “And if they say I’m crazy I might as well BE crazy.”

We pulled up outside the courthouse right on time, and I could see that scum Arcaro in his stupid straw hat waving today’s paper around like he was Moses on the the mountain or some shit. His mouthpieces stood beside him, grinning at the thought of those big fat checks they’d cash, and I suspected there were a couple of people in the DA’s office who were doing the same thing. And the press…yapping like the stupid little poodles they were, lapping up his every word and forgiving his every trespass because it made good copy. Well, not me. Not Hank Weldon. Not today.

“Stay low so he doesn’t see you.” I hit the button unlocking the back doors. These new cars were damned marvels. Buttons for everything. Maybe one day they’d have one that could feed you clam juice and pick your nose while you drove. I chuckled, mostly to distract myself from wanting to jump out of the car and put two into Arcaro’s grinning, smug face. But then I had to remind myself this was much better.

Tony finally finished blabbing and waving his hands and started down for the car. The mouthpieces and assorted hangers-on hung back, because they knew the man always rode alone. It was one of his security things…making sure one of his ‘valued associates’ didn’t shoot him in the head. He also never wanted the driver to get out of the car in case he had to make a quick exit, stage right. You learn a lot about a guy when you watch him for three years.

He waved that damned paper around again before climbing in. Just in case the hangers-on got any ideas I eased off the brakes and let the car roll away from the curb, hitting the door locks as soon as we started to move. I could see him nod in the rear view mirror. “Nice, Bobby. Take me to the club.”

I should have nodded and kept my mouth shut. But sometimes Hank Weldon just doesn’t do the smart thing. “We’re going for a ride, see?” Good old Edward G again. Just can’t help myself. “A nice ride, see? Just sit back and enjoy it, Tony. You bastard.”

I saw his eyes go wide in the reflection. “Weldon? Is that you, you damned cop? Let me outa this car!”

“This is your captain speaking. Flight 666 now departing the Dade County Courthouse heading for parts unknown. For your safety, please return your seats to the upright and locked position.”

He pulled the door lock up and scrabbled for the handle. “You bastard! I’ll rip your guts out!”

“Now, now, Tony. You know everything’s child-proof these days. That little lever inside the door? Child proof so you don’t fall out and hurt your pretty little head.” I looked over at Marty and grinned, seeing understanding wash over his face. “Now just sit back and enjoy the ride. Have some clam juice. Or maybe don’t. It goes right through you, you know. Cleans you right out.” Then I slammed the soundproof partition shut.

“Where are we taking him?”

“Gonna show him the town a bit.” That was one thing I hadn’t considered. I didn’t want to settle him in until it got dark, which left us with a few hours to kill. “Then we’ll sit on him until it’s time.” I looked in the mirror again, watching Arcaro scream at the partition. “He’s like watching TV with the sound turned off.”

“What about the rest of them? Constanza? Wingo? Pinchada?”

“They’ll go down, too. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but they’ll go down.” Louie had given me a couple of ideas about them, too. Some nights he talked to me, water dripping out of his mouth as he whispered in my ear. I never told anyone about that, though. Never share some things you get from a CI. Another lesson I tried to pass on to the kids. “I’ve got a plan, you see.”

“Something tells me I don’t want to know.”

And he didn’t. Marty was a good kid, smart and ambitious like I’d said before. He’d go far once old Hank was out of the way. Maybe even a Federal desk of some kind. He was that kind of cop. Me? I’d always been a street gunfighter. Never had the lips for ass kissing.

Arcaro started banging on the partition, and that pissed me off. I swung the big car to the side of the road and lowered the soundproof part an inch. “Knock it off, Tony, or I’ll have to break a kneecap. You know what that does to a guy, right? Of course you do. You did it to Sammy before you had him whacked.”

That settled him down, but only for a moment. “I’ll rip your balls off, Weldon! Feed ‘em to your wife!”

That did it. I grabbed the crowbar from the floor beside me (you never know when you might have a flat or need to smack the crap out of a gangster) and popped the locks. He thought he was ready, but I had a good fifty pounds on him and a hell of a lot more anger. The crowbar came down twice on his flailing legs, and he screamed as the kneecap shattered into as many bits as I could manage. “You gonna be a good boy now, Tony? Or do I need to take out the the other one?”

Marty’s voice cut through his screams. “Get back up here, Hank! People are starting to look!”

Slamming the back door, I got back behind the wheel and we were off. At least it was quiet now, aside from Arcaro whimpering in the back. I could feel Marty’s eyes on me, and just shook my head. “He shouldn’t have mentioned Lorraine.”

We drove around for a while and then I headed back to the warehouse where I’d stashed the driver. He was gone now, which was more or less what I’d expected. I didn’t figure he’d go to Arcaro’s people…there’d be too many questions and quite a few broken bones over how he’d managed to lose the car. But I also didn’t care.

Marty kept pacing while I sat on the hood of the big car. We left Arcaro in the back seat. With those kiddie locks on he wasn’t going anywhere. Finally I got tired of his act. “You wanna go, Marty? Go. I can do the rest.”

“No, you can’t, Hank. You’ll need help. Besides, I want to be sure it’s really over.”

“But I’m the crazy one, remember? Not you.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy, Hank. Tired, yes. But not crazy.”

To be honest I didn’t know anymore. Especially on those nights when Louie was whispering in my ear and Helen stared at me with her crispy skin and charred hair. But it didn’t really matter, did it? Looking outside, I saw the long shadows falling over the lot in front of the warehouse and hopped off the car. “It’s time. Get that gym bag from the front seat, would you?”

“What’s in that thing?” He hauled it out and looked at it like there was a dead rat inside. “It’s awful light.”

“Just a present for our friend in the back.” I took it and pulled out a small paper bag. The syringe looked like it had been used, but I didn’t care. It was the vial I cared about, and it was intact and still sealed.

Marty watched me fill it. “What the hell is that? Truth serum?”

“Naw. We know everything he does. Nothing more he could tell us.” I held the glass tube up, letting the last of the sun glow red and gold through the liquid inside. “I called a vet. Posed as some old guy whose wife’s poodle was on its last legs. Asked what they used to put them to sleep. Then I called Victor.”

“Why Victor? He’s a damned dealer.”

“Right…a dealer with connections. I did a deal, see? A big, last deal, see? This is what they use on the dogs.”

“So you’re gonna put him to sleep?”

“Now you get the idea. But it’s more than that. It paralyzes them first. The muscles, and then the lungs. He’ll go out just like Louie did, but not in the water.” I looked at the needle one last time and turned toward the car. “Let’s get this done.”

It wasn’t much of a drive from the warehouse to 124 Waters and the doll’s house. It was a joke, see? She had been Arcaro’s doll, and he sent his people to the doll’s house to pick her up. Until the time she didn’t want to come along. I figured it would maybe bring a smile to her crisped face if he went out in the same place he’d killed her.

He must have recognized something about the street, because he fought like a son of a bitch until the needle went in and the cocktail started to work. He was still clutching that damned paper, and I grinned down at him. “We’ll put that in with you so you have something read in hell, Tony.”

As we hauled him out of the car, I let my mind wander to the rest of my plan. Or really Louie’s plan. Gotta give the guy his due. Once Tony disappeared, I’d just keep stirring the pot and claim I spotted him all over town. Keep the force looking. Sooner or later they’d bring down the rest of his crew, even if they were just tripping over them trying to find Tony. Hell, maybe one day I’d even tell them. Once they’d done their jobs, of course.

“How are we gonna do this?”

“The walls in this place are old. Take us too long to replicate the way they did ‘em. But the closet in her old apartment is just dry wall in the side. We’ll stick him in there and close it up.” I liked how his eyes bugged when he heard that. “Yeah, Tony. You’re going in a wall. And once that stuff I gave you kicks in you’ll die just like Louie. Running out of air while you can feel everything around you.” I gave him a swift kick. “How’s it feel, you bastard? You might be able to buy the DA, but you can’t get away from Hank Weldon! Not this time!” I turned back to Marty, ignoring what looked like fear in his eyes. “Let’s get this done.”

 

TONIGHT

 

Ricardo Tubbs and Sonny Crockett watched as Weldon swung the section of pipe again and again, breaking through the wood and plaster wall to reveal the almost mummified body of Tony Arcaro. Weldon’s eyes were wild, and he shouted with each swing. Finally he dropped the pipe and walked over toward the opening that used to hold a window. “We got him now, Marty,” he muttered, resting his hands on the sill.

Reaching in, Sonny pulled something from the dead man’s hands and showed it to Rico. It was a newspaper from February 18, 1979. The same one they’d seen Tony Arcaro clutching to his chest in the old news video. The body was even wearing the same straw hat. There was no question as to the identity of the body. Weldon got him. No question. But how the hell did it happen? And why? We’ll probably never know.

Sonny turned, seeing Marty Lang in the doorway next to Castillo. The thin man’s tie was slack around his neck, and the look in his eyes told Sonny all he needed to know. “You knew. You knew he killed Arcaro.”

Lang nodded. “I helped him build the wall.” He looked over at Weldon, silhouetted against the black sky outside. “What the hell! I was his partner! You understand?” Sonny looked away as Lang repeated the words. “I was his partner.”

[vicegirl85]

This is fantastic, Robbie!  Just the way it must have happened.

[Robbie C.]

Thanks. My logic was why would Weldon be stupid or impulsive right up until Arcaro was in the wall? Everything he did in the episode had a purpose or a reason. Even if it only made sense to him. Just like claiming he saw Arcaro everywhere to get the rest of his men rolled up. He didn't go completely around the bend until he realized his 'work' was done on the stilt houses. Then he lost his purpose.

And I don't normally write stuff in first person (in fact I can count the number of stories I've done this way on one hand), but Hank just felt like he needed to tell it this way. After all, no one else's thoughts really factor into this one.

Edited October 12, 2019 by Robbie C.
Added 1st person note

[mjcmmv]

Way to go! That was great! Very, very creepy!

I especially loved Hank and his imitations. You captured his voice perfectly. 

Thanks, Robbie. Now, I have a good picture of what could have been. 

[mjcmmv]

Feed back, please! It's the only way Fan Fic writers know what you like and what you'd all like to see! 

Edited October 13, 2019 by mjcmmv

[vicegirl85]

I'm trying to recover from being run over by the writer's jealousy bus here 

[mjcmmv]

3 minutes ago, vicegirl85 said:

I'm trying to recover from being run over by the writer's jealousy bus here 

I hear ya! Great stuff. I'm learning every day!

 

[RedDragon86]

Robbie's writing is a treat.

Edited October 13, 2019 by RedDragon86

[RedDragon86]

Rewind the clock back and you could have easily have wrote episodes in "Vice"

[Robbie C.]

This one took three or four days to write, and I did most of it before I rewatched the episode. It might have gone faster if I hadn't have used first person, but it just felt better that way. Glad y'all enjoyed it!

But rewatching the episode did convince me "Brothers in Arms" was the best musical sequence the show ever did. 

[Robbie C.]

Just now, RedDragon86 said:

Rewind the clock back and you could have easily have wrote episodes in "Vice"

Thanks! I appreciate that!

[Vicefan7777]

Man oh man I could picture this perfectly as I was reading. It really could have been a two part episode.  Bravo!!!