Looking up into his face, which was lined with concern, I knew I might not like what he was going to say, but I was willing to listen. In my heart, I realized that he cared about my welfare; if he had not, he would never have stopped me from getting deeper into trouble. I was really going to miss the money I had been making, though. So, I was rather mad about that.
"Yes, sir," I replied. "I'm in big trouble, ain't I?"
"Well, Zeb, you could be; but this time, I'm just seeing that you get home. I won't be saying anything to your mother, however, because I'm sure she has enough on her mind without your adding to her worries. I'm going to leave you about a block from your house and trusting you to go on home. Understand?"
"Yes, sir." I gulped in relief.
"Now, another thing... you are to stay away from that part of town. Just what were you doing down there in the first place? What were you thinking?"
"I was down at near election headquarters one day, and they let me pass out some flyers for money; then I went into that bar, and met Benny, and well, you know the rest. I also thought I might find out some stuff about who killed my Da, cause he went in there a lot."
Sgt. Finley's face mirrored his thoughts like a reflecting pool. (To be continued)
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Zebulon - Day 42 - Historical Fiction
Rafferty looked at me as though I were a cockroach.
"Nah, I don't know the kid! Say, ain't that O'Hanlon's brat? Somebody told me he came in the other day, looking for a handout. He musta come back in today. What's he been tellin' ya, anyway?"
Sgt.Finley looked down at me, and grabbed the paper bag out of my bike basket.
"So, you don't know anything about this paper bag the kid had in his possession?"
"Did he say I did?"
"I'm just trying to find out where it came from. The kid's not talking, but I know about your numbers racket, Rafferty! You use kids to do the dirty work. It has got to stop! One day, we'll catch you red-handed; in the meantime, do your own dirty dealing without involving innocent kids. Come on, boy, let's get out of here; it stinks to high heaven!"
We left the bar, and Sgt. Finley walked with me back to my house, and as we went, we talked.
"Zeb, we need to discuss a few things, if you don't mind."
(To be continued)
"Nah, I don't know the kid! Say, ain't that O'Hanlon's brat? Somebody told me he came in the other day, looking for a handout. He musta come back in today. What's he been tellin' ya, anyway?"
Sgt.Finley looked down at me, and grabbed the paper bag out of my bike basket.
"So, you don't know anything about this paper bag the kid had in his possession?"
"Did he say I did?"
"I'm just trying to find out where it came from. The kid's not talking, but I know about your numbers racket, Rafferty! You use kids to do the dirty work. It has got to stop! One day, we'll catch you red-handed; in the meantime, do your own dirty dealing without involving innocent kids. Come on, boy, let's get out of here; it stinks to high heaven!"
We left the bar, and Sgt. Finley walked with me back to my house, and as we went, we talked.
"Zeb, we need to discuss a few things, if you don't mind."
(To be continued)
Friday, May 17, 2013
Zebulon - Day 41- Historical fiction
By now, Sgt. Finley was squatting by me, looking into my eyes.
"We're going to do something about it, right now. Just follow my lead, okay?"
Nodding my head in assent, I waited to see what was going to happen.
Taking me by the shirt collar, he took the bike in his other hand, rolling it along, back to the bar. He was holding me up almost off my feet, almost carrying me along, and just fussing at me something terrible. It wasn't hard for me to act like the injured party. I was acting up as though I was fighting him.
"Officer... what are you doing? Where are you taking me? I ain't done nothin' wrong!" I shouted.
Heading into Dooley's bar with me, he walked over to Benny Rafferty, and asked, "Do you know this boy? Is he working for you these days, Rafferty?"
(To be continued)
"We're going to do something about it, right now. Just follow my lead, okay?"
Nodding my head in assent, I waited to see what was going to happen.
Taking me by the shirt collar, he took the bike in his other hand, rolling it along, back to the bar. He was holding me up almost off my feet, almost carrying me along, and just fussing at me something terrible. It wasn't hard for me to act like the injured party. I was acting up as though I was fighting him.
"Officer... what are you doing? Where are you taking me? I ain't done nothin' wrong!" I shouted.
Heading into Dooley's bar with me, he walked over to Benny Rafferty, and asked, "Do you know this boy? Is he working for you these days, Rafferty?"
(To be continued)
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Zebulon - Day 40 - Historical Fiction
An attack of nerves hit me square in the gut, as I looked at the paper bag, and then at Sgt. Finley. How much should I tell him? Would he understand? I wasn't even sure what was in the paper bags I carried back and forth between the bar and the barber shop; but I knew it must be something wrong in it.
I had looked once in the paper bag I was carrying to the barber shop, but all I could see were some slips of paper with numbers on them. I didn't know what the numbers were for, so I decided that it wasn't any of my business, as long as I was getting good money for carrying them.
So, looking up at Sgt. Finley, I said, "Only some little slips of paper with some numbers on them."
"Um-hmm, I see! And where might you be taking them, Zeb, and from where?"
"Well, from the bar down the street where my Da got into a fight, and to Bills's Barber Shop."
"Zeb, do you know what it is you are doing? You're breaking the law! You're on your first step into crime, and once you're in, it's mighty hard to get away from it. What could you be thinking, lad? This is the numbers racket you're involved in. It's illegal. The next thing they'll be having you do is drug running. Do you want to be adding to your mother's worries?"
I felt the guilt and shame wash over me. My eyes began filling with tears, and the Sgt. put his arm around the same shoulder that Rafferty from the bar had been squeezing with his rough hand. (To be continued)
I had looked once in the paper bag I was carrying to the barber shop, but all I could see were some slips of paper with numbers on them. I didn't know what the numbers were for, so I decided that it wasn't any of my business, as long as I was getting good money for carrying them.
So, looking up at Sgt. Finley, I said, "Only some little slips of paper with some numbers on them."
"Um-hmm, I see! And where might you be taking them, Zeb, and from where?"
"Well, from the bar down the street where my Da got into a fight, and to Bills's Barber Shop."
"Zeb, do you know what it is you are doing? You're breaking the law! You're on your first step into crime, and once you're in, it's mighty hard to get away from it. What could you be thinking, lad? This is the numbers racket you're involved in. It's illegal. The next thing they'll be having you do is drug running. Do you want to be adding to your mother's worries?"
I felt the guilt and shame wash over me. My eyes began filling with tears, and the Sgt. put his arm around the same shoulder that Rafferty from the bar had been squeezing with his rough hand. (To be continued)
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Zebulon - Part 39 - Historical Fiction
Since I had been doing several runs a day for Benny (that's what everyone called him, and I didn't know any more of his name than that), I knew I had to cut back and just do the one right after school. My school work had been suffering, along with my relationships at home, so I told Benny my decision.
"Sorry, O'Hanlon, ya got a job ta do now, and I can't let ya off the hook; I'm dependin' on ya. Ain't ya makin' good money; ain't I payin' ya plenty fer jist runnin' ta the barber shop? Remember, a guy don't welsh on his duties, if he wants ta be considered reliable. Whatever's causin' ya ta think ya can quit on me, ya'd better think again."
By now, he had grabbed my shoulder in his meaty hand again, and I was squirming. I had to come up with a different solution, somehow.
Later that evening, as I was bicycling along the streets with the paper bag in my basket, Sgt. Finley spotted me, and hailed me down.
"Hey, Zeb! What are you doing down in this part of town? Does your Mom know where you are? Aren't you out awfully late?"
As I stood there, with my feet on the ground and my behind resting on the seat of my bike, I looked up into his face; and all at once, I knew he was just the person I needed to talk to.
"What's in the paper bag, Zeb?"
(To be continued)
"Sorry, O'Hanlon, ya got a job ta do now, and I can't let ya off the hook; I'm dependin' on ya. Ain't ya makin' good money; ain't I payin' ya plenty fer jist runnin' ta the barber shop? Remember, a guy don't welsh on his duties, if he wants ta be considered reliable. Whatever's causin' ya ta think ya can quit on me, ya'd better think again."
By now, he had grabbed my shoulder in his meaty hand again, and I was squirming. I had to come up with a different solution, somehow.
Later that evening, as I was bicycling along the streets with the paper bag in my basket, Sgt. Finley spotted me, and hailed me down.
"Hey, Zeb! What are you doing down in this part of town? Does your Mom know where you are? Aren't you out awfully late?"
As I stood there, with my feet on the ground and my behind resting on the seat of my bike, I looked up into his face; and all at once, I knew he was just the person I needed to talk to.
"What's in the paper bag, Zeb?"
(To be continued)
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Zebulon - Part 38 - Historical Fiction
Over the next several weeks, a few important things happened. In November, Dwight Eisenhower was elected to his second term in the White House, which meant that nothing really changed in the government politics that I could see, but of course, all that really meant nothing to a kid. All I was interested in was making money. I wasn't even looking for my Da's killer any more.
Another change that took place, was that my Ma started fixing up and wearing better clothes, and a lot of make-up. In fact, she looked better than I had ever seen her before, but I didn't catch what it all meant at the time.
My sister got even bossier, if that was possible, and I began staying away from home longer in the evenings. I couldn't see the effect it was having on my little brother until one night, I heard him crying in his bed. Since we shared a bedroom, it was kind of hard to miss his sniffling, so I went over and sat on the edge of the bed. His crying tore at my heart and I turned him over to face me.
"What's wrong, Buddy?" That is what I called him most of the time instead of his given name of Lester.
He sat up and threw his arms around me.
"I miss you, Zeb! You're gone all the time since our Da died. We never do anything together any more. You were going to teach me how to make a flip and shoot it, remember?"
I realized then that I was neglecting a lot of things. I hadn't read from that little testament in a long time, and I hadn't been there for my little brother. I didn't know what was going on with my Ma. There was detecting I had to do at home.
(To be continued)
Another change that took place, was that my Ma started fixing up and wearing better clothes, and a lot of make-up. In fact, she looked better than I had ever seen her before, but I didn't catch what it all meant at the time.
My sister got even bossier, if that was possible, and I began staying away from home longer in the evenings. I couldn't see the effect it was having on my little brother until one night, I heard him crying in his bed. Since we shared a bedroom, it was kind of hard to miss his sniffling, so I went over and sat on the edge of the bed. His crying tore at my heart and I turned him over to face me.
"What's wrong, Buddy?" That is what I called him most of the time instead of his given name of Lester.
He sat up and threw his arms around me.
"I miss you, Zeb! You're gone all the time since our Da died. We never do anything together any more. You were going to teach me how to make a flip and shoot it, remember?"
I realized then that I was neglecting a lot of things. I hadn't read from that little testament in a long time, and I hadn't been there for my little brother. I didn't know what was going on with my Ma. There was detecting I had to do at home.
(To be continued)
Monday, May 13, 2013
Zebulon - Part 37 - Historical Fiction
"Okay, kid.. first, what's yer name? I know yer O'Hanlon's kid, cause yer a dead ringer for him."
I bristled at his choice of words, speaking of death. He was insensitive at best. "You can just call me O'Hanlon, then, you don't need my first name," I replied with an attitude.
"All right, O'Hanlon, don't get all bent outta shape over it. Now, here's what I want ya to do. Every day, I'm gonna give ya a paper sack with some stuff in it. All ya have ta do is take it over to Bill's Barber Shop and give it to the fellow working at the last chair in the shop, the chair next to the back door. Got it? Ya don't look in the bag or take nothing out of it. Understand?"
"Yeah, what's not to understand, anyway?" I was feeling really cocky and emboldened.
He reached over and grabbed me by the shoulder. "Listen, kid, here I am doin' you a favor and you're mouthin' off at me? You have no idea who you're talkin' to, and if yer smart, you'll learn to keep yer trap shut and do like yer told! Now do ya want the job or not?"
I winced as he sqeezed my shoulder relentlessly. I replied, "Yes, sir, thank you, sir."
Smiling, he turned loose of my shoulder and put out his right hand, offering to shake mine. In turn, I reached out my hand and shook hands with trouble. (To be continued)
I bristled at his choice of words, speaking of death. He was insensitive at best. "You can just call me O'Hanlon, then, you don't need my first name," I replied with an attitude.
"All right, O'Hanlon, don't get all bent outta shape over it. Now, here's what I want ya to do. Every day, I'm gonna give ya a paper sack with some stuff in it. All ya have ta do is take it over to Bill's Barber Shop and give it to the fellow working at the last chair in the shop, the chair next to the back door. Got it? Ya don't look in the bag or take nothing out of it. Understand?"
"Yeah, what's not to understand, anyway?" I was feeling really cocky and emboldened.
He reached over and grabbed me by the shoulder. "Listen, kid, here I am doin' you a favor and you're mouthin' off at me? You have no idea who you're talkin' to, and if yer smart, you'll learn to keep yer trap shut and do like yer told! Now do ya want the job or not?"
I winced as he sqeezed my shoulder relentlessly. I replied, "Yes, sir, thank you, sir."
Smiling, he turned loose of my shoulder and put out his right hand, offering to shake mine. In turn, I reached out my hand and shook hands with trouble. (To be continued)
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