Somewhere in New Jersey – Part 7

The Ninth Circle

‘Are we in Minnesota’, the Founder asked Vergil.  They had walked down the slope that extended from the berm that shored up the final bolgia on the Eighth Level.  As the rocks that line a river in northern climes will be covered by ice on a winter day, a narrow strip of ice and talus extended infinitely to their right and their left.  On the other side of the strip was a frozen lake dotted with snow mobiles and ice fishing tents.  Although the Founder strained to see the far shore, he could not do so.

‘No’, Vergil said.  ‘This is Compound Fraud and Treachery.  You can’t get any deeper.’

‘So this is for, like, people who voted Ghibelline because of the price of gas?’

‘A special wing is being built for them.’

‘Can we take one of the snow mobiles?’

‘From here, we go on foot.’

Inside the first ice fishing tent was an older, heavy-set man with thick lips, a smoker’s voice and bags under his eyes buried up to his solar plexus in ice.  ‘I know this motherfucker’, the Founder said.  He held open the door flap for Vergil to come in.  ‘He was my mobile home park jedi master when I got into the business.  Come in and sit.  I will tell you about him.’  Vergil eased himself into a folding camp chair facing the man.  The Founder sat in another chair next to him.  A cooler of beer and a basket of cheese, sausage and chips sat just outside the man’s reach.  The Founder handed a beer to Vergil and cracked open another for himself.  Then, he ripped open a bag of Funions and tossed one into his mouth.

‘They couldn’t get imported beer, or craft beer’, the Founder asked.  ‘I mean, you have unlimited resources here.  This Taiwan Beer tastes like Meister Brau.’

‘Budget cuts’, Vergil said.  ‘Sorry.’

The man reached toward the Funion packet.  The Founder held it close to his hand and then snatched it away.  The man waved his arms like a zombie.  ‘Please’, he said, ‘Please.’

‘None for you, asshole’, the Founder said.  He took a swig of beer.

‘I’ll sell you a water meter’, the man said.  ‘Cheap.’

‘How do you know this guy’, Vergil asked.

‘When I first looked into buying parks, he had a website called mobilehomeparktrader.net.  He listed parks for sale on it and he also sold consulting services.’

‘Like Frank Rolfe?’

‘Yeah, like Frank, only half-assed.  I paid him $600 to bloviate.’

‘That must have hurt.’

‘The guy he really screwed was the guy who owned the park he managed.’

‘He managed a park?’

‘Yeah, but he told people he was the owner’s partner.’

‘You ever meet the owner?’

‘He was a nice older man who had Alzheimer’s.  After some time, he moved out of state and gave complete control to this guy.’

‘Wow.’

‘An electrician who did some work for me told me that his father worked on that park.  When he did a job, he would give him a price.  Say, the electrician would charge $100 to replace a breaker box.  This guy would tell the owner it cost $120, and he would pocket the $20.’

‘Guys’, the man said.  The Founder remembered how he used to talk.  He had a deep voice that he could make sound like the voice of God and puppy-dog eyes that he could turn on when he wanted sympathy.  He was using them now.  ‘Could you get some women in here?  I will make it worth your while.’

‘Your mid-section is encased in ice’, the Founder said.  ‘And I wouldn’t help you if it weren’t.’

‘J.B. did that with building materials’, the Founder continued.  ‘When he bought two-by-fours from Lowes for a park job, he would keep a few for himself to use on his own jobs.’

‘They got him for lust’, Vergil said.

‘Isn’t that a lesser included offense’, the Founder asked.  ‘Shouldn’t he be here, instead of there?’

‘I just work here’, Vergil said, ‘But I can bump it up the chain of command.’

‘Please’, the man said.

‘Anyhow, that went on for decades.  This guy took a vig off every project they did in that park.  And they were big projects!  He paved the streets and put in a new well system and pressure tanks!  Think of the kickbacks you can embezzle from that kind of project!  And the owner took care of him!  He treated him well!’

‘Wow’, Vergil said.

‘But the final piece was that his guy suggested that he and the park owner start an import-export business.  They built a warehouse on some empty land next to the park, petitioned the town to make that a separate parcel, and organized an LLC.  I had lunch with the owner when this was going on.  He said, ‘The impex business will make this man deservedly rich.’’

‘Did it?’

‘He placed a million dollars of orders for inventory from China.  Streetlights, water meters, power tools, that kind of stuff.’

‘OK.’

‘But it was all phantom orders.  After he collected the reimbursement from the owner, he absquatulated.  Loaded up a U-Haul in the middle of the night and went to Tennessee.’

‘I can get you solar panels cheap’, the man said.  ‘I can get you brass water fittings.  Just get me out of here.’

‘You want to slap him around’, Vergil asked.  ‘I mean, we’re here.  I can get you an ax handle or a baseball bat from the equipment locker.’

‘Nah’, the Founder said.  He crushed his beer can and threw it against the man’s head.  ‘I’ll let the owner do that, if he ever comes this way.  The stories I tell about this guy are worth the money I paid him.’

‘You mind if I kick him a few times’, Vergil asked.

‘Go crazy with it’, the Founder said.

.

On the ice, the day had receded.  That’s the problem with winter, the Founder thought.  It’s not the cold.  It’s the dark.  If we could have cold air and light, clear days, we would be in heaven.  ‘Is there any logic to it’, he asked Vergil.  ‘To the punishments on this level, I mean.’

Of course’, Vergil said.  ‘The worse the crime, the deeper the ice.’

‘So, that guy was only solar-plexus bad’, the Founder said.

‘Solar-plexus bad is pretty bad’, Vergil said.

.

In the next tent, the guy was buried up to his shoulders, with his arms immobilized in the ice.  A snow plow blade sat in one corner of the tent and a feather sat on a barstool in the other.  ‘I have never met this guy in person’, the Founder said, ‘But I know him from his profile picture and his shitty punctuation.’

‘Who is he’, Vergil asked.

‘He ran a landscaping business in northern New York’, the Founder said.  ‘In the winter, he plowed snow.’

‘OK.’

‘I hired him to plow for me one year.  I paid for the season and we signed a contract for him to plow each time three inches of snow fell.  He bugged out the first blizzard of the year.  Said I was asking him to go above and beyond when I called to ask him to work.’

‘Were you?’

I don’t think so.  Six inches had fallen and it was white-out conditions.  He never showed up.’

‘What then?’

‘I gave him a one-star review and then he and his wife separately gave my park a one-star review.  I had to write responses explaining that he and his wife could not review the park because they had never lived in the park.  Only residents, not discontented contractors, have standing to do that.’

‘Have you heard from him since?’

‘Not until now.’

The Founder walked over to the feather and picked it up.  ‘May I’, he asked.  ‘Of course’, Vergil said.  The plowman’s eyes widened as the Founder he crossed the tent-floor toward him.  ‘Coochee-choochee-coo’, the Founder said, as he tickled the space between the plowman’s nose and his upper lip.  The plowman tried to sneeze.  The Founder tickled the space on the bottom of his chin and stuck the feather up his nostrils.  When he started on the ears, Vergil said, ‘Hey.’

‘Hey, what?’

‘We have a schedule.’

‘Can’t we push back the next appointment?’

‘No.’

.

The shades in the next ice fishing tent were buried up to their necks, one in front of the other.  When they walked through the door, the Founder saw the posterior shade bite into the back of the head of the anterior shade and gnaw.  She had gotten through the occipital bone and had started on gray matter.  It must grow back, he thought.  She will be doing that for a long time.

‘Who is the guy in front’, he asked Vergil.

‘Some car dealer from Tulsa’, Vergil said.

‘Did he do anything egregious’, the Founder asked.

‘I do not believe so’, Vergil said.  ‘He just, you know, sold cars.’

‘I know the woman who’s doing the biting’, the Founder said.  ‘She was a real estate agent.  She sold a few homes in one of my parks.’  He had to remember the way she looked – short dark hair, bangs, pale skin, moon face, a little roly-poly – because he couldn’t see much of her buried in the ice.

‘Did she do anything egregious’, Vergil asked.

 ‘She didn’t do much of anything at all, really’, the Founder said.  ‘She listed a home, did nothing and collected five percent of the proceeds.  The park manager did all the work.’

The real estate agent looked up at them, smiled a toothy, crocodilish grin, and took another bite out of the head in front of her.  She turned her head to the side, spat out a mouthful of tissue, and bit again.

‘You guys hear about the new buyer’s agent rules’, she asked.

‘What did that guy ever do to you’, the Founder asked.  ‘He needs that brain.’

‘He don’t need it no more’, the agent said.  ‘You gonna waive your rights?’

‘You appalled me when you were alive’, the Founder said.  ‘You appall me now.’

‘Everyone needs a buyer’s agent now’, the agent said.  ‘That’s more for me, me, me!’

‘I need to leave’, the Founder said to Vergil. 

‘You want to give her a few whacks’, Vergil asked.

‘I want to leave.  Now.’

‘Your reaction is not uncommon.’

.

At what looked like the middle of the lake, Vergil and the Founder came upon a set of traffic cones and Caution Do Not Enter signs.  If he craned his head to look over them, the Founder saw a cylindrical water-chute cut into the ice.  Although the air was well below freezing, the Founder could hear a sucking sound coming from the cylinder, and he could see water moving inside it.

‘So, this is it’, he asked Vergil.  ‘The Omphalos?’

‘This is it’, Vergil said.

‘Don’t I get to see the big guy?  I mean, the big, bad guy?  You have showed him to other tourists.’

‘He works remotely now.’

‘If he is nearing retirement, is there anyone in line to replace him?  I am curious about the succession politics.’

‘I don’t know anything about it.  And if I did, I wouldn’t be at liberty to say.’  Vergil paused and held out a flask.  ‘Drink this’, he said.  ‘You can’t go through the worm-hole sober.’

‘I’d rather not drink it’, the Founder said.  ‘I would like to see what the worm-hole is like.’

‘I’m not asking.  I’m telling.’

‘I will need to take a shower when I get home.  Beatrice won’t touch me, smelling like this.’

Vergil brandished the flask.  ‘Glug, glug’, he said.

.

When he regained consciousness, the Founder was at the wheel of a large SUV on a cloverleaf on I-95.  ‘Where am I’, he said.  When he looked to his right, he saw Vergil in the passenger’s seat.

‘Ikea is over there’, Vergil said.

‘Where’s the pork store?’

‘You passed it forty-five minutes ago.’

The Founder turned onto what he thought was an exit, but the road merely looped back to where he had been.  He tried taking the second of the two options at the intersection, but he ended up in the same place after three minutes.  ‘How do I get off this fucking cloverleaf’, he asked.

‘You don’t’, Vergil said.  ‘You can escape hell.  You can’t escape New Jersey.’