Chapter 116

They headed back into the wood barn. This time, there was a whole different vibe.
The black kidnapper, who Dee was calling ‘Glenny,’ had set up another folding metal stool over by the Coke fridge. He gestured at Rawle to sit down. Rawle felt a surge of joy flood his heart. A mixture of power and a sense of belonging. He was being invited to sit down with very powerful men.
Dee Lee rolled the massive elm stump over and sat on it, and the three men each drank a Molson Golden.
It was warm in the barn. Rawle started to feel a buzz. The fear in his belly had turned into a sweet, calm feeling that trickled through his entire body.
Dee Lee and Glenny chatted about the Missions family, but Rawle was barely listening. He laughed whenever they did.
Dee Lee reached into his shirt pocket and pulled up a flat pack of Player’s cigarettes. He opened the pack and took out three white cigarettes, passing one each to Rawle and Glenny. Then he flipped open and lit his Zippo with one motion on his pants and passed the flickering gasoline flame to Rawle.
Rawle put the cigarette to his mouth and lit it in the orange flame. His mouth started watering.
The cigarettes were joints, not tobacco. Potent joints.
Rawle felt a shining light fill his chest.
Dee looked over and smiled, letting a tongue of smoke escape from his open mouth and sliff up his right nostril.
“We helped you out, Raoul, that’s for sure. Let’s talk about how you’re going to return the favour.”
Dee Lee and Glenny both looked over at him. They were dead serious.
“What?” Rawle said. His head felt light and fuzzy, all of a sudden.
“I said. Are you going to help us find Jack and Tee’s killer? Or are you going to do nothing?”
Glenny leaned his elbows onto his thighs and spoke in a deep voice. “We are Jack’s family, Raoul. We’re working with the police, as best we can. We’re being, cordial. But why shouldn’t we try to get answers for ourselves? Raoul, you more than anyone in this room should know the limits of the police in getting justice.”
Dee Lee took a long puff on his joint and picked up where Glenny left off. “When Jack came to me about your little problem there, with that cow…” he tilted his head toward the chicken barn- “he told me that you didn’t have enough evidence or whatever for the cops to do anything. It’s a familiar story to me. This crazy bitch was attacking your family. Your young fella. You had a name and some valid reasoning. What did the police do to help you?”
“Nothing,” Rawle said, his mouth drying out completely the higher he got.
“Nothing. So, what did you do about it?” Glenny said, looking up from the floor and staring directly into Rawle’s eyes. “You did what any man would do. You tried to protect your family. You took the protection of your family, personally, into your own hands. The only way you knew how. Did you not?”
Rawle nodded. “I did.”
“And you didn’t care,” Dee said, “one fucking little bit that you should have, by rights, told the police the name and left it to them. Did you?”
Rawle shook his head.
No.
He took another drag of the joint, holding the smoke in his lungs this time and feeling the THC tingle into the tissue of his chest. It felt so good.
“Well, someone in my family got murdered, Raoul. You think about that. That’s my blood. My Jack was stolen from me, from his mother, forever,” Dee said. “Do you understand that? Jack and Tee won’t recover like your wife did, like you did. They’re gone. You think I should leave justice to the police?”
Rawle shook his head. No. He really didn’t.
“And I want you to know something else, Raoul. I read your story. The story you did before you got popped in the head.” He gestured toward the chicken barn again. “You wrote that Darroll Missions killed himself, after that story about the firebombing.”
Rawle nodded.
“Who do you think told Jack about all that? Okay? It was me. Now, how do you think that makes me feel, now that Jack is dead? That it’s probably all be my fault? That I got the whole ball rolling?”
Rawle looked up. He’d never considered Dee Lee’s feelings. Was it possible, a man like Dee Lee, could feel guilty?
“Why did you tell Jack that? Not that I think it’s your fault, trust me, I don’t. I think it’s my fault for asking him to help me… But you must have already hated Darroll or something.”
Dee settled back on the stump and sat up straight. “That’s another story, Raoul. But you’re right, it did start with something else. I did hate Darroll because he stole something from me. And I did tell Jack his name, to get back at him and to try and flush him out. Did they get wind of that? I don’t know. In many ways maybe, it’s my fault, which is why I’m not going to rest ‘til I catch whoever took him. And which is why I’m working so hard. And which is why I’m not leaving it up to the Pork. And which is why you’re sitting here.”
Dee had fire in his eyes as his spoke, his face was pink. Rawle felt inspired by his words.
It was what he wanted so badly to hear someone say, for so long, ever since the murders.
It’s what he wished he could say himself, with that much conviction. I’ll do whatever it takes, until the cocksucker is hunted down and made to pay.
He finished the joint and let the last of his freezing cold beer spill down his dry throat, then leaned down and stubbed the cigarette out onto the barnboard floor.
“Alright. I want to help. Just tell me what you need me to do.”