Free Final Stroke by Michael Beres

talking about I’m not sure. Anyway, ac cording to Marjorie, Steve’s a real babe. I guess Steve must have heard about Jimmy Carter when he was with her because she told me once she always liked Jimmy Carter, and that Steve has a smile like Carter.”
    “I remember when you and Steve first met,” said Lydia. “When you told me the name I figured we better stop right there. Was it your idea or Steve’s to get those vanity plates on your car?”
    “My idea.”
    “Guys still eyeball you on the expressway?”
    “Sometimes.”
    “No, Jan, it’s all the time. Remember, I drove here behind you. Had to use my cell phone to call tows for all the rubbernecks’ cars that went into the ditch.”
    Instead of commenting on this, Jan pulled at both sides of her mouth, making a child’s scary face.
    “You need a weekend away,” said Lydia. “I’m taking Friday off to do just that and I think you should join me Thursday night and get the hell out of here for a while.”
    “Maybe you’re right,” said Jan. “This afternoon Steve mentioned spring and said I should do more than simply take a night off for din ner. When I asked him what I should do, he said I should go for bike rides. Ten years ago when we met I rode almost every day. I rode to my first husband’s business only to find that it was burning and he was inside. And now there’s been a fire in Steve’s head. He’s mentioned the word case a lot lately. I think he misses the challenge, but since he can’t recall the cases he worked on over the years it bugs the hell out of him.
    “The first time I met Steve was when he got on my case. We had a clandestine meeting at O’Hare Airport. Steve was back in town after laying low for a while because of some mob guys from Miami. He sat in the terminal holding up a crumpled newspaper. The word I was supposed to look for was circled in a small headline at the fold of the paper. The word was Gypsy .
    “We talked about the fire that killed my husband and a friend of Steve’s named Sam Pike. Mostly I remember Steve walking away after our meeting that day. I remember it vividly because it symbolizes his stroke. He walked with his shoulders forward as if anticipating an attack from behind, as if his brain knew what was coming ten years down the road. I’ll always remember the swagger and momentary hesitation of his cop walk as he disappeared into the crowd. And I’ll always remember what he wore. Blue suit, and that tie, that horrible wide green and red tie that looked like a Christmas neck scarf, or a Gypsy scarf.
    “Not long ago, when we were alone for a few minutes, I told Mar jorie about my first meeting with Steve. When I finished, she kissed my forehead, then she cried like a baby.”
    Lydia held up her glass. “To all the babes in the woods.”
    Jan held up her glass, clinked Lydia’s glass, and they drank.
    CHAPTE R

FIV E
    Tyrone Washington checked his watch, hoping Flat Nose was doing the same. Last fall Flat Nose forgot to turn back his watch for the end of daylight savings time and showed up an hour early and scared the shit out of a resident by putting his ugly face against the small glass window in the door from the loading dock. Ever since then, Tyrone feared Flat Nose would get the time wrong and screw everything up. He checked his watch again and cursed the system, both because it deserved to be cheated, and because it allowed itself to be cheated.
    Tyrone was disgusted with the system and knew he had lots of company, especially white folks who seemed to be the main strain around this place. Some said it was a thing called demographics, but he knew it was no such thing. He knew the reason there were more white folks in this place than black was because white folks lived lon ger. And the longer white folks lived, the more they’d complain about the system while making sure there were plenty of ass wipes like him handy to wipe up after their white asses.
    Tyrone knew damn well all the shit started in