The Replacements Read Online Free PDF

what, with you, a crook was a crook was a crook. Robby said you were a bulldog when it came to ‘fighting the tyrannical oppression of the underprivileged.’”
    The name “Robby” coming from her lips caused me to cringe. With it came a stab of grief and sorrow. At one time, Robby had been a good friend. “Maybe,” I said, “but that was then, this is now. Times change. You change with them, or get eaten up.” My own words came out cold, desolate. But I was alive, and Robby was the one taking the cold dirt nap.
    â€œAll right, all right,” she said. “Let me tell you a story and, if you still feel the same, I’ll let you tell me whether or not I should drop the hammer on your friend Milky.”
    â€œThat’s okay, this hypothetical Milky, he told me all about it, and it sounds like what happened might’ve been a terrible accident.”
    I didn’t really think that. By his own words, Jake, aka Milky, had swung his front door open with the intent to fire, with the intent to kill. That was murder no matter who stood there, friend or foe. But were there extenuating circumstances that mitigated his actions? Years ago, in my book, before I went to prison for gunning down my son-in-law, there had been no such thing. You did the crime, you went down for it, hard or easy, your choice.
    Barbara began, “Milky used to live in Fresno. He killed a black guy on the sidewalk out in front of his house. It started witha stupid argument that turned to racial slurs. Milky pulled this huge hogleg from his waistband and, without provocation, shot him dead because he was black.”
    Any empathy I might have had for Jake was gone. Barbara had no reason to make up this story. Jake had now morphed into the kind of animal I had chased while on the Violent Crimes Team.
    Barbara continued, “According to the report, Milky had the gun under his jacket, out on the sidewalk. He shouldn’t have had the gun out there in the first place, which proves intent. Milky claimed that the victim came at him with a knife. Milky fled the scene and, by the time the deputies arrived, there was no knife. There were no witnesses. The Sheriff’s Department handled the incident and could not get the DA to file. And here’s a little bit of ugly irony for you. The sheriff screwed up and released the gun back to Milky. Maybe they had to, but I wouldn’t have. Milky left Fresno because it got a little too hot. Too many people wanted a piece of him. When he happened to settle in our little town of Montclair, I was working homicide and caught the case. He blew this guy right off his own porch. Point blank, right in the heart. He thought it was his Hispanic neighbor. Again, no witnesses. Again, no other motive than prejudice. He ran like most all of those cracker assholes do. And, until right now, we had no idea where he’d landed. We issued a warrant and we’ve been looking for him ever since.
    â€œOh, and the slug, went right through Fredrick Landsberg, the victim. We dug it out of a kid’s playhouse across the street. It matched. Milky used the same gun, the .44 Mag that he used to kill that sixteen-year-old kid in Fresno.”
    A sixteen-year-old? To make matters worse, Jake had gunned down a sixteen-year-old kid!
    Barbara cocked her head a little like she always did when trying to decipher a problem, trying to decide to say something further. “Be careful. I saw Milky when he left, what he did withhis hand.” She mimicked Jake Donaldson and made a gun with her index finger, her thumb as a hammer.
    I asked, “Wasn’t this Fredrick Landsberg his best friend?”
    She scoffed. “Landsberg’s wife told me that her husband met Milky that same day at a filling station, and Milky paid him forty bucks to help him protect his property against the influx of, ‘the Mechican scourge.’ And she said it just like that too.”
    I was stunned. How had I