“You’ve got a big heart.”
“So, you think we’ll get two grand each out of this?”
“That’s what Judy says.”
“I don’t mean to complain. I mean, I could use the cash. But it seems like a lot of work for two grand each.”
I looked over at him as I took a right turn. “We’ll be in and out in, like, ten minutes, tops.”
“Two grand doesn’t go that far these days. I think we’re in a recession or something. Maybe we should start thinking of the future. ’Specially you. You’re not getting any younger.”
I pulled the truck outside his parents’ house. “You’re sure your parents are gonna be away Thursday night?”
“I’m dropping them at the airport in the morning. They’ll be gone till next Tuesday.” He let himself out of the truck, wedged a pen between the window and the frame holding it in place.
“Forget about it. I’ll fix it with a screwdriver later.”
He put his pen back in his pocket. “If we made a big score you wouldn’t have to worry about fixing your window every week.”
“Let’s concentrate on this one job before we start planning on knocking over the mint.”
The bolts had come out easy, a couple of quick turns with the ratchet. I eased the washers off and pushed them up through the holes in the floor. Then I put the ceiling tile back in place and climbed up the back stairs to help Dell move the machine.
It was lighter than either of us imagined it would be. Still, we threw a heavy strap around it anyway. We were almost out the back door when Dell stopped the hand truck, pushed it so it stood upright. “Did you hear that?” he asked.
We both stood still. I listened for half a minute. “I don’t hear anything.”
Dell put his fingers to his lips and walked through a door separating the bar from the kitchen. I followed. “It came from in there.” He pointed to a walk-in freezer.
Opening the heavy metal door, he walked in. I heard him say, “Shit.” Then I followed him in. He moved off to the side to let me past him. Steve lay on his back, blood from the back of his head freezing up on the insulated floor. “Holy shit,” I said bending down to get a closer look. Then I heard the door to the walk-in close behind me.
There was a little sliver of Plexiglas about eye level that I could see through. Dell struggled with the hand truck for a second; then he put it down and turned around. I couldn’t hear anything going on outside the freezer, but it looked to me like someone had called him from his back. He smiled for a second; then the back of his head exploded over the face of the ATM.
Judy threw a pistol at Dell’s feet, put another one, the one she shot him with, on the bar. She went over to the phone next to the cash register and dialed three digits. I watched her lips move as she talked to the 911 dispatcher on the other end of the line. She turned away when she caught me eyeballing her through the glass. I doubt the shame on her face was what she really felt.
There was an extension in the freezer. I picked it up and listened in on her conversation. She’d surprised two men robbing the bar she owned with her husband. One of them she’d locked in the freezer. The other one had pulled a gun on her, and she’d shot him with the pistol her husband kept behind the bar for security.
I bent down and looked at Steve. Fresh pop marks had frozen over on his arm. The hammer I’d loaned Judy lay on the side of his head, covered in gore. Judy’s ability to plan had come a long way since we were jungled up together. She’d really thought this one out, probably getting her man so nodded out, his oversized muscles wouldn’t do him any good once she started on him with the hammer.
She hung up the phone, turned a bar stool around, and stared at me, holding the dead receiver in my hand. If this were a cartoon, her eyes would have turned into dollar signs as she counted up the insurance money dancing behind her expressionless face.
Part of me, a very small part, was happy she’d finally made her big score.
Killing Billy Blain by D. T. Kelly
I stared out the window of the restaurant into the grayness of a Chicago January morning. The streets were clear of snow, but the sidewalks were dusted white and the curbs caked with black slush. I finished my coffee and motioned the waitress. “This is my last job.” She didn’t look at either of us as she refilled my cup. We waited for her to leave.
Frank took a bite of toast. “You told me that already.”
“Well, I’m making sure you heard me.” I creamed my coffee. “Eighteen years of this job is enough.”
“I understand. Most people burn out after five.” Frank took his cigarette from the table edge and took a drag, blowing the bluish cloud towards the ceiling.
“This job eats at your soul.” I took another drink. “It’s nothing but negativity day in and day out.”
“Billy, I said I understand, quit preachin’.”
“Sorry, Frank. I’ve just hit the point where I can’t take it anymore. So, who is it this time?”
“Right.” The cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth as he spoke. I’ve always wondered how smokers could do that without losing the cigarette. Frank slid a manila envelope across the table. “We’d like you to get it done this afternoon.”
I put the envelope next to me. “You sure he’s going to be home?”
“Yeah. Larry Spanos is sitting on him.”
“Right. You sure Lar isn’t banging that little broad of his in the backseat again?”
“Jonny Moon is with him.”
“That’s comforting. He’s probably jerking off in the front seat.” I shook my head. “Jonny Moon. Did that sick fuck ever tell you what he used to do when he worked in a sandwich joint?”
“I can’t say that he did,” Frank said, mildly interested.
“Well, he’s someone I won’t miss.” I took a bite of bagel. “Fuckin’ guy.”
“So, this afternoon, right?” Frank pinched his cigarette between his fingers and dropped the carcass to the floor.
“No problem, Frank. It’s a done deal.”
“I can’t say we’re not going to miss you.” Frank lit another cigarette and took a drag. “You’re one of the most reliable guys I have.”
“Oh, let’s not get sentimental,” I said, popping the last piece of bagel into my mouth. “I tell you what, I’ll let you pick up the tab this time.”
“I always pick up the tab.” He smiled. “It’s my job.”
I finished my coffee and stood up. “Take it easy, Frank.” We shook hands and I left.
When I got home I opened the envelope and took out its contents. I skimmed the papers and stopped at the picture. He was a small, portly man with more hair on his face than on his head. He had squinty eyes, reminded me of a mole. I tossed the picture onto the table and went to my filing cabinet. My gun cleaning kit was in the top drawer.
After cleaning and loading my Beretta, I slipped it to my inside coat pocket. I found that holsters are clumsy and bulky. Either one could get you killed.
I picked up the picture and studied it again. Mole Man wasn’t looking happy. He wouldn’t be happy when I got there either.
It was snowing lightly when I parked my Ford pickup two houses down from the apartment complex. Normal protocol would be to park at least a block away to ensure not being seen before the deed was done. I was too tired for protocol.
I spotted Larry’s Impala parked on the opposite side of the street with a full view of the apartment’s only door. I’ll be damned, Larry is doing his job.
Larry rolled the window down as I approached. “Hey, you’re late.”
“Fuck you.”
“Touchy, ain’t he, Moony? You’d think this was the old man’s last job or somethin’.”
“I don’t need this shit. Just tell me, is there anything I need to know?” I saw Jonny Moon slumped in the passenger side of the car. I couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or drunk.