Watching Jimmy Rot

By Charlotte Winstead

Jimmy Evans was dead. The grapefruit-sized hole where his forehead used to be proved that. One blue eye gazed skyward out of what was left of his face. What did he see in that last moment, the moment when he realized what was about to happen? Did his miserable life really flash before his eyes while he still had two and the mind to use them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524581350

Charlotte Winstead

Charlotte Miller Winstead was born just outside the Missouri Bootheel town of Cooter. She and her husband James have been married for 43 years, they have four sons, eight grandchildren and one great grandchild. Charlotte was once the Activity Director at two nearby nursing facilities. She has written several gospel songs and has published two other mystery/thriller books. Charlotte has done genealogy for more than twenty years and has an extensive online family tree. She worked as a reporter for several years and now has a weekly column in the local newspaper.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

DETROIT, 1956

Jimmy Evans was dead. The grapefruit-sized hole where his forehead used to be proved that. One blue eye gazed skyward out of what was left of his face. What did he see in that last moment, the moment when he realized what was about to happen? Did his miserable life really flash before his eyes while he still had two and the mind to use them?

If so, then he probably remembered how he got to this back alley and this condition. Jimmy never had much luck in life, mostly due to his own ignorance. He thought he could make his own way without regard of others more powerful than himself. He was wrong, of course.

I remember the first time I ever saw Jimmy, way back in 1935. He was only fourteen but already a skilled criminal. He could steal a storekeeper blind and the guy never even knew it until it was way too late. Skinny enough to fit through tight places, Jimmy could get inside anything.

I was still Louie the runaway at the time. I was older than Jimmy but we had some things in common and were friends right away. I had been on my own for a long time. I was that guy in high school who is invisible and that no one ever remembered at reunions. Like a piece of furniture, there but of no real consequence, I finally just faded into the background.

The teachers in my Chicago high school were so constantly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of students they never knew for sure who showed up for class. A lot of the time, I just didn’t go. I managed to be there occasionally for a test and so passed from one grade to the next in complete obscurity.

After four years of this, I was free. But free to do what? I had learned no skills that were of any use so I decided it was time to be somewhere else. I caught a bus out of Chicago at eighteen and never looked back. As far as my family goes, I haven’t had any contact with them since I left so I don’t know if I still have family or not. Even after all these years, I haven’t come to a point where I cared enough to find out.

I wound up on the streets of Detroit which was not that much different than what I had just ran away from. Then came the odd jobs so many start with: bussing tables in the neighborhood diner, parking cars for tips at the fancy places, that kind of thing. Never made much, just enough to keep me alive another day. I knew it was time to make a big score.

That’s when I met Jimmy and we made a good team. One day he got this idea for a job he said couldn’t miss. He knew of a shipment of whiskey that was being delivered to Abie’s Irish Rose Pub. Jimmy said Abie was old and careless and didn’t lock his doors. He didn’t even have any security. Piece of cake, he said, so I decided to put in with him. That was a big mistake because, like most piece of cake things, it wasn’t. Jimmy didn’t know about the two other guys who already had the same idea. He didn’t know those two were now in the hospital. Jimmy didn’t know about Max Harper.

CHAPTER TWO

Abie McCleary sat in his office lighting his fifth cigar of the day. He squinted through the smoke at the papers on his desk. He checked the order form and satisfied himself that the shipment would be in on time. A crooked smile crossed his wrinkled face as he thought of all the money he was going to make. This shipment was the very finest Canadian whiskey and he had gotten a great deal on it, practically a steal! Those Canadians didn’t know who they were messing with. Abie laughed out loud remembering how he had convinced them to virtually give the shipment to him. It wasn’t that hard, a few good-sounding but completely empty promises and the booze was his. Abie rubbed his hands together in delight.

A thought came to him about his grandfather. He had been told Sean McCleary rubbed his hands the same way when he was pleased. Abie doubted Sean was pleased that often because there was little to be happy about in his life. He had the poorest farm in County Antrim, Ireland. He also had eleven children to feed. After the last one, which was Abie’s father Riley, was born his grandmother lost the will to live. Never enough food, too hard an existence, too many children, Annie McCleary just grieved herself to death. Riley was only two at the time and didn’t remember her at all.

They buried her in the hard, unforgiving soil and the four older boys set out on their own right away. With their mother gone, they no longer had a reason to try to scratch a life out of that miserable piece of earth. Riley told Abie how Sean didn’t allow their names to be spoken out loud again and he never knew what had happened to them. Within a few years, all the girls were married and gone too. Sean was broken and worn out and one day he was dead. Just like that and Riley was left alone at the age of twelve.

Riley had to survive on his own, journeying through the countryside doing odd jobs for food and an occasional shelter. He made it all the way to Belfast by the time he was sixteen. A local ship builder took a liking to Riley and gave him a job in his shipyard. The boy worked hard and learned the trade quickly. Two years later, the company took on a big job for the White Star Lines but by then Riley was too restless to stick around. He used all his back wages to buy a place on a ship going to America. He had no idea how he was going to survive there but the pull of freedom was too strong for him to resist.

His new country did well for him and, when he died, Riley left Abie reasonably well off, at least a lot better than Sean had ever known. Abie looked around his office. What would Sean think if he could see this? Would Riley be proud of the success his only child had achieved? Abie had never married and there were no children to carry on the family name. It was sort of a shame to let it die out like that, he thought, but his business was what was important and he had to get back to work.

There was a tap on the door. Come in, Max, Abie called and his new bodyguard stepped inside. He thought he would never get used to the sight of Max Harper. The word big didn’t even begin to describe him. His six-foot-six-inch frame was topped by something that could barely be called a face. A face so scarred and pitted and eyes so completely unmatched, you were never sure where to look when you spoke to him.

Max was the product of what happens to a man who starts out in the boxing ring way too early and