Past Due Read Online Free PDF

ma’am.”
    “Let me tell you, it was no easy thing being his wife. It was harder being his son. You needed to be smarter and stronger to survive him. I was. Look at me, the size I am, he was twice as big as me, and still I was stronger than him every day of his life. But Joey wasn’t. My little Joey. Forever trying to prove himself and proving nothing. Though always sweet, Mr. Carl. Always. Did you see how they came out for the viewing?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Lined up around the block. Such a crowd. They came out of respect for Joey Senior, and they came for me maybe, but they was also there for my baby. People loved him. He could have taken the shop, turned it into something for himself. Politics maybe. But that would have meant standing behind his father six days a week. So he became something else, even if what he became was crap. One day it was like a switch was turned, first he was just a sweet kid, and then he was ruined. Sad, desperate, stupid. Not a good combination. But as a boy, such a face on him.”
    She put her hands to her eyes as if to cover her sorrow. A thick golden ring shone on her forefinger, with a diamond chip in the center.
    “That’s a beautiful ring, Mrs. Parma,” I said.
    Her face lifted. She smiled as she bent her hand toward me, like a young woman showing off an engagement diamond. “Pretty, yes.You like? I wear it all the time. To me it is special. Joey gave to me years ago. A birthday gift.”
    “May I see it?”
    “Of course,” she said as she twisted the oversized ring off her finger. “He could be so sweet. He was an altar boy, did you know that? In his little white robe. I have picture. Do you want to see picture?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    She pushed herself up from the table, successfully this time, and rubbed her back as she left the kitchen.
    While she was gone, I examined the ring. It was heavy, it felt solid, masculine. I nipped the bottom with my teeth and left a small mark. Nice. On the inside were the initials TG. I tossed it in my hand and then placed it gently on the center of the table.
    When Mrs. Parma returned to the kitchen a few moments later she was carrying a picture in a frame. Three boys in white robes, young boys, eight or nine, posed in front of a church, butcher boy cuts with bangs hanging down. The boy on the right was chubby, happy, with a smile that could melt butter. Joey? Was Joey ever that happy? He was leaning against the boy in the middle, a broad, sturdy lad with a fierce smile and dark eyes. To the left was a tall thin boy, standing apart from the other two.
    “Such a face,” said Mrs. Parma, sitting back at the table, twisting her ring back on. “If only he could have stayed like that. But boys grow up and disappoint, every one. That is the way of it. Even you, Victor. Is your mother proud? Truly, in her heart? Joey Senior was just a boy himself when I first set eyes on him. Striding down the street in his uniform. Who could tell what was inside of him?”
    “I wanted to again say how sorry I am for your loss.”
    “I know you are. You took care of him that last time, when he told me he was falsely accused. My Joey, always a bad liar, but he couldn’t help himself. He was allergic to the truth. But things were turning around for him, so he said.”
    “Is that what he said?”
    “That night, before he went out. He said he had a plan would turn things around for him.”
    “Did he tell you what the plan was all about?”
    “No. Never. My Joey never told me a thing. In fact, the policeman who came, he asked the very same thing. The black man with the Irish name.”
    “Scottish name,” I said. “McDeiss.”
    “That’s it, yes. I made him some veal. A man his size, he eats a lot of veal. He asked about you as much as he asked about Joey. But I knew nothing about Joey’s business. I knew enough to know not to know. He was my son, Victor, my boy, and I loved him like he was still my little Joey, but I knew what he was. And for that they