Hudson City

    Although Rocco did only what was absolutely necessary to maintain the motel, he had spared no expense when installing the surveillance equipment. He knew where the real money was, and I’m sure he kept a library of tapes from those officials who came here supposedly incognito. Yet, in the ever-changing field of technology, even his system was already out of date, recording on CDs and servers that would have made security professionals scoff. For Rocco’s purposes, however, it was more than enough. I had seen some f the camera bubbles at various exterior locations, half globes of dark glass behind which the tell-tale camera lenses hid. No great secret to the more than casual observer, although many of these were tucked away in odd crooks and crannies. How many cameras Rocco had; it was hard to tell. He led me to the rear room off the office, and I saw the banks of TV screens that encircled the small room. “Goddamn it, Rocco,” I said, glancing from screen to screen. “Do

    Nicky was not happy to hear from me. Although we had once been close, as with most of my closest friends, I had alienated him during the aftermath of my marriage, blaming everybody but myself for what went wrong. He also had his own troubles. A gung-ho ambulance company owner, he had flung himself into the rescue and later cleanup after the September 11 attack on the World Trade Center. He contracted a lung ailment as his reward. His voice rasped so much over the telephone; I barely recognized it. But he recognized mine. “What do you want?” he asked. “A favor.” “You used up all your favors the last time we talked,” he said. “One more pays all,” I said. “We’ve helped each other in the past.” “Something you forgot the last time we talked,” he said. “I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t right in the head then.” “And you are now?” “I’m getting there.” “And the favor?” “I need you to move a body.” “For Christ’s sake, Dan. When you beg for a favor, it’s a whopp

    Rocco was not my friend, but he had been my landlord during my down and out days after the police department fired me and my wife decided she needed a divorce. He was a Gruff man with a thick black beard and a voice that sounded like a foghorn. Just over 50, he had inherited the motel on the south side of the county from his parents who believed old Jersey with its Roadside farms dance and flocks of tourists would make a comeback and nearly went broke struggling to keep the motel occupied.   Rocco saved the motel by   using his mob connections to squeeze out a profit, also   serving as the county’s official temporary welfare residence,   and renting by the hour   to local prostitutes. The place had its own history. While George Washington hadn’t slept there, Frank Sinatra and early members of his Rat Pack had while performing at the popular Top Hat night club just up the road from the motel. Filmmakers use the place as a set for mostly mob movies since nothing had alt

    The telephone rang as if from another time, that old-fashioned ring I forgot I had set for my cell phone.   it seemed to connect with some dream my drinking had inspired. So, when I open my eyes to the dark, I forgot when and where I was. The only light in the room came from that phone which I had left face up on the nightstand. This was just bright enough for me to make out the face of the old-fashioned clock management had furnished the room with. It said 3:45. And this was not in the afternoon. But night or day, calls did not indicate good news. I groped for the phone catching it just before it cycled into message mode. “Yeah?” I mumbled into the screen, still unable to get used to the idea that it had no real mouthpiece. “It’s Rocco,” a gruff voice said. “Are you sober?”” What kind of fucking crack is that?’ I asked, just awake enough to be angry. “I need you sober and your ass down here,” Rocco said. “Can’t it wait until morning? “It is morning.”

Hudson City, a novel  This is a novel written about ten years ago, a kind of imitation of Graham Greene's This Gun for Hire. Since the original draft is hand written, I'll be posting chapters as I type them in. (Note 4/9/24: I'm going to have to change some of this novel because I originally set part of it in Kingston, NY, and because of an altered circumstance, I have to alter some of the location). Chapter One: Get him out of here Chapter 2: Model from hell Chapter 3: A small favor Chapter 4 -- Nat's last night Chapter 5: Hold the presses Chapter 6: New chief same as the old chief Chapter 7: Jake’s Place Chapter 8: The girl in a cops' bar Chapter09 -- A girl's gotta do what she's gotta do Chapter10: A stalker in love More to come email to Al Sullivan