When One Man Dies

Chapter 1 I've killed three men in my life. One the police know about, two that I've kept to myself. For the fourth time in three months, I had blood on my hands, and all the forgotten images of the dead were swirling back to me. This time, however, I wasn't doing the killing. I was in the middle of Easton Ave., trying to pump life back into a man I used to drink with for hours on end. He was bleeding from the nose and mouth. He wasn't breathing. I could feel his ribs crunch with every compress of my hands on his chest. I couldn't yet hear the ambulances and Robert Wood Johnson Hospital was right down the street. I yelled, "Someone call nine-one-one!" But I knew it was too late, and Gerry was gone. Dead bodies look different from live ones. I should know. The Olde Towne Tavern was pretty crowded for a late Monday afternoon. Standing in the back, under a dimming Budweiser neon light, two college kids played pool. To my left, leaning against the stained wooden wall, two guys discussed baseball and the greatest American rock and roll band at the same time. It was impressive. A young couple sat at a dirty table finishing their lunch. Gerry sat next to me, and bought me a Heineken. He had his cup of coffee, and the breath to go with it. We were celebrating. "Accepted, huh? Gonna be a freshman at twenty-seven years old?" "Twenty-eight." "Whatever. It's still old to go to college. But I'm proud of ya. Can't keep this private eye stuff up all your life." "Hey, I have to pay tuition somehow." Not that I was getting many cases lately. When your face is plastered all over the news and most of it isn't good, the clients aren't exactly knocking down your door. I decided to come to the tavern for lunch today after getting my mail. I pulled out one of those big envelopes that high school seniors pray for. Opening it up, I found a letter that began, "Dear Mr. Donne, We are pleased to announce your acceptance to Rutgers University . . ." Best news I'd had in two months. I drank my beer and Gerry blathered. Eventually, my burger would show, I could eat and get out of here. Gerry's a nice guy, but grating when he starts to get a rant on. "Never went to college myself. Had a war to fight. Fucking Korea." "I remember, Gerry." Gerry talked about two things. Korea and his former life as an actor. "So, tell me about this college thing. What are you going to do? When are you going to start?" I finished my beer, still waiting for Artie to bring me my burger. "Probably start next fall. In September, once I get all of the tests out of the way." Gerry shook his head. "You have to take an entrance exam. See what classes you can take," I said. "Then what? You take your classes? Get a B.S. Ha! Get a B.S. in BS." He slapped himself on the leg, let out a short chuckle. I gave him a smile. "Probably be an English major." "How's that going to help you? What can you do with an English degree?" "We'll see." He plunked ten bucks on the bar as Artie finally brought my burger. "Well, Jackson," Gerry said, "I best be going. Gotta get home." I heard the door swing open behind me and he was gone. I poured some ketchup on my burger as Artie flipped a switch behind the bar. The Stones popped on over the speakers, "Beast of Burden." "That guy doesn't shut uWhite, Dave is the author of 'When One Man Dies ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780307382788 and ISBN 0307382788.