Three Sides of the Tracks Page 20

  Smurf snatched the blackjack from Danny’s pocket and tossed it to Slink, threw Danny’s phone on the coffee table and shoved him back down. “He’s clean ‘cept for that.”

  “Not much, I’d say. Not with this. So what were you going to do? Scope out the situation then leave and call the cops?”

  “Slink, I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about. Call Bernard if you don’t believe me.”

  “Kid, I was conning people before I was twelve years old, so forget it. But I’m gonna do you a favor since you’re so worried ‘bout Caroline. Tie his ass up, Smurf.”

  Danny swung at Smurf’s giant head, but Smurf just grinned as he easily blocked the punch with a forearm and grabbed Danny in a stifling bear hug. Whitey jerked his hands together, wrapped rope around his wrists and tied it tight.

  “Slink, don’t do—”

  “Shut up. Don’t wanna hear no more BS. Y’all go outside and scrape the sand off that first one and put him in there with her. Maybe she’ll like his company more than ours.”

  “But it’s still daylight and raining, Slink,” Smurf said.

  “It ain’t that light, not with all the clouds, and the rain’s slacked off. Shouldn’t take you both more’n ten minutes to get it done.”

  Smurf pushed Danny forward. “You gonna walk, or you want me to knock your ass out and carry you?”

  Danny looked at Slink with a pleading expression.

  Slink leaned back in the armchair and didn’t bother meeting Danny’s eyes. “Should’a just been straight with me, kid. Would’ve had a better chance. Get him outta here.”

  Danny walked as slow as he dared, hoping for a miracle. Smurf held him firmly by one arm while a disgruntled Whitey retrieved the shovels and shoveled the few inches of sand off Caroline’s box and began prying the lid loose.

  “You’d better not have Caroline in that.”

  “Oh yeah. What you aim to do about it, big shot?” Whitey said as he bent to raise the lid.

  The plywood lid suddenly flew up and smacked Whitey flush in the face.

  Danny leaned into Smurf and stomped his foot. “Run, Caroline. Run.”

  Caroline clawed out of the box but couldn’t run because her ankles were tied.

  Whitey dove across the pit, grabbed Caroline by the collar and punched her in the stomach.

  She fell to her knees retching.

  “I’ll get you for that, you son of a bitch,” Danny screamed.

  Whitey punched him too.

  Danny staggered backwards but Smurf tightened his grip. Whitey gagged him and slung him into the pit, into the bottom of the box, then punched Danny again.

  “That’s enough. Somebody might see us,” Smurf said, then pushed Caroline into the box on top of Danny. “Cover their ass back up, and let’s get inside before Slink starts raising hell. And make sure those nails are tight.”

  Whitey slammed the lid back on and hammered the nails in with the flat of the shovel, then stuck the plastic pipe through the breathing hole. He leaned down and spoke into the air pipe. “What you gonna do now, smart ass?” Whitey made sure to chuckle loud enough for Danny to hear as he shoveled sand over the box.

  “Feisty little bitch, ain’t she?” Smurf said.

  Whitey rubbed his knuckles. “I’d sure like to poke some of that feisty outta her, I know that. Pisses me off that Slink won’t let us have none of that. Can’t figure it out.”

  “Don’t go tryin’ to figure out what’s in Slink’s mind. He’s got shit in there even he don’t know about.”

  ** *

  Danny pulled the gag from his mouth then Caroline’s. “Dumbass Whitey didn’t think to tie my hands behind my back. Sorry it took me so long.”

  “Don’t say that. I knew you would come. You always do. Hurry. Untie mine.” Caroline turned on her side so they were face to face. As soon as she felt the knots loosen, she jerked her hands free, wove her fingers through his hair and placed her cheek against his. “I told those guys my daddy would come after them but, in my heart, I knew you would find me.”

  Danny chuckled. “Can’t say I did much good.”

  “We’ll get out of this. Everything always turns out okay when you rescue me from whatever mess I’ve gotten myself into. And you always do. Always. As far back as I can remember.”

  “Can’t blame yourself for this one.”

  “Danny, a lot has happened—No, nothing bad,” she said quickly when she felt him stiffen. “Just things that made me think. I’ve changed during all this, but I really didn’t know how much until I heard your voice. When I did, I felt a . . .a . . . Oh, I can’t explain it.” Caroline held his face in her hands and kissed him with parted lips, softly, slowly. Only a second passed before Danny responded with the tenderness she hoped he would.

  “Caroline . . . what—”

  Caroline put a finger to his lips. “I feel different. When I heard your voice, it was like a window opening. Do you . . . do you feel any different? Toward me, I mean. Oh, Danny, please tell me you do. I feel like such an idiot.”

  Danny wrapped her in his arms. Hungry mouths moved over each other’s lips, face, neck. Danny whispered between kisses. “Yes, Caroline, it happened to me too. I should’ve had the guts to tell you so a long time ago.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.” Caroline’s tongue danced inside his mouth then she pulled back and kissed his cheeks, his throat, his lips. “When you yelled for me to run, I couldn’t move. My heart was racing, my stomach fluttering. I just wanted to run to you . . . to hold you.” Caroline stepped back and looked deeply into Danny’s eyes. “Promise me you’re not just saying that to keep from hurting my feelings. The way you’re kissing me—”

  Danny kissed her hard then chuckled throatily. “Caroline, I can’t get you out of my mind. You’re the only thing I think about, care about, but you’re right. It is different. In a way, it’s like we just met.”

  She rested her chin on his shoulder. “When did you know? I mean, did you just wake up one day—”

  “No. That date you had with Richard Turner. I felt so jealous. I realized I loved you in a different way. Being my best friend was great but now . . . well now I was in love with you too. It was like looking at a flower petal one day and the next day it blooms.”

  Caroline snuggled her face against his. “Something happened during all this. I broke down and lost control; and, then, when I was at my lowest, I saw your face, how you’d always protected me, helped me, saved me from all the stupid things I got myself into. Since that moment I’ve been thinking about a lot of things.” She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight. “Danny, I feel so alone unless I’m with you. I knew I loved you but not how much until a moment ago.” She caressed his cheek. “Danny, I fell in love with you. Oh my goodness, I’m tingling all over.”

  “I love you too, Caroline. And don’t ever doubt it.”

  34

  Payoff

  The phone rang twice then stopped. Jessie leaned over his desk and snorted another line of his concoction, sniffed deeply, then washed it down with a slug of Crown Royal. He picked up both phones Lenny had given him because he couldn’t remember which one he’d used last and walked out the front door without saying anything to Marie.

  Before he’d driven 10 miles one of the phones rang.

  “It’s all set. I’m taking care of the problem in a few minutes. Let’s be clear on this. Don’t want any misunderstandings,” Lenny said.

  “Fifty for the boy. A hundred for Caroline. Another hundred to do those assholes. What’s to misunderstand? Just take some pictures so I’ll—”

  “Why don’t you just drive down? I’ll keep one alive so you can have the pleasure of seeing for yourself?”

  “Cause the damn FBI might be kinda curious about me leaving town.”

  “Just messin’ with you, man. I’ll see you in a few hours. Have the dough?”

  “No problem. Listen, make sure my little girl doesn’t know about the boy. Not a word. That’s part of the deal.�
�

  “No, it ain’t part of the deal, but I’ll make sure she don’t know or at least don’t know it came from you.”

  “Okay. Make sure you throw those damn phones away too.”

  “Sure, boss.” The line went dead.

  Jessie threw his phones into the roadside weeds. “A quarter million dollars,” he muttered to himself. “Hell of a lot of money for at most two days’ work.” He began considering whether Deadhead and Iggy could do away with Lenny and save him big money.

  His mind was on how he would do it when he reached home and opened the car door. Before he could step out, the car slammed violently forward, and Jessie’s head hit the steering wheel. Someone jerked him out of the car and hard knuckles pummeled his face.

  “Hire a hit man to kill my son, you son of a bitch. You’re going to jail but not before I kick the living shit out of you.”

  Jessie rolled on his stomach and covered his head with his arms. Fingers tangled in his hair and raised his head then slammed it against the concrete driveway. The drugs and whiskey and lack of sleep made Jessie too sluggish to do more than try to block the punishment and hope it would soon stop. Who in the hell would dare do this to him?

  “Stop it, you’re going to kill him,” a voice said, then Jessie heard a groan and the blows stopped.

  Jessie crawled to his car and reached across the seat for his pistol. He turned over and wiped blood from his eyes. Marie stood there with a metal lamp in her hand. There was a man lying on the driveway but Jessie couldn’t tell who it was. Then he remembered what the man said. “A hit man.” Whoever he was knew about Lenny. Jessie aimed and fired. Three times to make sure.

  “No, Jessie, no,” Marie screamed.

  “Shut up. I had to kill him. It was self-defense. You saw. You hit him with that lamp, didn’t you?” Jessie pulled up his shirttail and wiped his eyes again.

  “Damn it all,” he muttered when he saw that the man was Martin Townsend. “Screw it. It’s still self-defense. He’s on my property.”

  “You’re just as guilty as I am,” he told Marie. “Besides, you know damn well he would’ve killed me if you hadn’t hit him with that lamp. That is what you did, ain’t it?”

  Marie stood frozen, looking at Martin, whose blank, lifeless eyes seemed to stare right through her. Tears ran down her cheeks and her head shook back and forth, back and forth.

  There was an ever-growing pool of blood around Martin’s chest. Jessie hadn’t missed.

  “Who do I call?” Marie said in a trembling voice.

  “Not a damn soul till I tell you to. I gotta clean up some stuff inside first. You can call the lawyer. Think you can handle that without going to pieces?”

  “John Sawyer?”

  “Hell, no. He’s probably blood brother to this one layin’ here. The Atlanta lawyer. Bowtie.”

  “I don’t know who ‘bowtie’ is.”

  “Morrison, Marie. Just look in my address book. Charles Morrison.”

  Marie held her hands to her face one more time as if that would blot out everything that happened then wiped her eyes and walked up the steps.

  “Wait a minute, Marie.”

  “What now,” she said impatiently.

  “How much . . . what all did you hear?”

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know ‘about what,’ which is why I’m asking. He was yelling and talking crazy, and I’m just wondering whether you heard anything . . . whether anything made any sense to you. Have to talk to the cops, you know, and we’d better have our story straight even though it was self-defense.”

  “I don’t know what you did to this man, Jessie, and I don’t want to know, but, if the police ask me anything, all I can tell them is that he was screaming and slamming your face into the ground when I came out.”

  “Okay, Marie, that’s fine. That’s fine. Sorry if I was a little rough on you. I’m just shook up is all.”

  “Fuck you, Jessie.”

  35

  Confrontation

  Lenny cruised highway A1A searching for the address on the map. He followed the brightly lit numbers on the row of condos and hotels until he knew he was close. Then he saw the iridescent numerals on two mailboxes perched along the sidewalk, behind which were lots overgrown with semitropical vegetation. A driveway separated the low palms and scrub from a grove of sea grapes. “Yep, that’s it. Couldn’t be better,” he muttered.

  He drove another half mile before turning around then pulled into the hotel parking lot and backed into a spot next to the grove of sea grapes. He put on latex surgical gloves then reached under the seat for his .22 pistol with silencer and tugged a baseball cap low on his forehead. “Better sure than sorry,” he whispered and put two extra 12-gauge shotgun shells in his front pocket. He opened the trunk and grabbed the sports bag with the sawed-off shotgun. The lighting was poor and he was already in the shadow of the sea grapes, so his wiry body merging into the foliage went unnoticed.

  Lenny pushed through the 10-foot wide grove until he reached the driveway then began his stealthy approach to the beach house.

  He saw the two cars and stopped. The closest one had Georgia tags. He touched the hood and it was still warm. The contract was here. Leaning at the waist, he scurried from the Taurus to the house and, ever so slowly, raised his head and peered through the curtains. He didn’t see anyone but did hear the TV. He could see a refrigerator in the room to the right of the small sitting room and a hallway to his left, which probably led to the bedrooms. He scuttled around the side of the house and peered inside. Scant light coming from the living room enabled him to see that no one was in either of the bedrooms, which meant everyone had to be in the living room. Six people in one room was problematic. He had to be sure.

  He backed up a few steps and ran across the yard and over the sand dune. He walked up the beach a few yards so the living room would be directly in his line of sight, then set the sports bag down and tucked the pistol into his belt. He looked around to make sure no one was in sight then crawled up the dune. As he suspected, the sliding glass doors allowed him a good view into the living room. He saw Slink right away. Shifting a little to his left, he saw Smurf and Whitey reclining on the couch. Only three. Damn it. Where were the contract and the girls? “Crap, guess I’ll have to do this the hard way.”

  If he rushed them from here, they’d see him before he could get the doors open, so he scuttled back around to the front of the house. He strapped the shotgun over his left shoulder so that it supported its own weight then cradled the short barrel against his forearm and quietly cocked both barrels. He took a deep breath and turned the doorknob. To his surprise, it wasn’t locked. “Cocky. And stupid,” he muttered and pulled the .22 automatic from his waist.

  Lenny eased the door open just past the doorframe, stopped and listened. Satisfied he was still undetected, he pushed the door open with his shoulder and glided into the room.

  “I’m three short. Where’s the others?” Lenny said in a monotone. He leaned against the doorframe separating the living room from the kitchen. The shotgun pointed toward the couch and the pistol at Slink.

  Smurf’s cigarette stopped halfway to his mouth. Whitey’s eyes gauged the distance to his pistol on the table. Slink shook his head.

  “So are you the badass daddy or did the badass daddy send you?” Slink said.

  “Do I look like a blinkin’ daddy?”

  Slink turned to face Lenny, but shielded Lenny’s view of the ivory-handled pistol as he did. “He must want his girl back pretty bad. What about the others?”

  Lenny swung the .22 away from Slink. It made a “Pufft” sound when he pulled the trigger, and a bullet punched a hole in the wall between Smurf and Whitey. The barrel swung back to Slink.

  “Where are they? Not gonna ask again.”

  “Kill us and how you going to get paid? Can’t find ‘em without us.”

  “Found you, didn’t I?”

  Slink turned back to the TV. Silence hung in the room. Smur
f and Whitey’s eyes shifted from watching Lenny to sneaking peeks at Slink for some hint of what to do.

  “Okay. Say we give you the girl or girls. Your boss want the guy too?”

  “Just the girls. The guy is mine.”

  Slink’s eyes bored into Lenny’s. “Now that don’t sound too friendly. You couldn’t have found us without him. You didn’t tail him down here though, so you must’ve . . .”

  Lenny aimed the shotgun straight at Smurf and raised his eyebrows.

  It was too much for Smurf. “They’re in the yard under the—”

  “Shut up, you idiot.”

  Another “Pufft,” and bits of cotton popped from the headrest of Slink’s recliner.

  Slink didn’t budge. “You son of a bitch. Killed my Unc, didn’t you? Found out which house it was, then followed the kid down here.”

  Lenny couldn’t hide his delight at killing Bernard, and Slink saw it in his eyes. “Get him,” he yelled, and Smurf and Whitey dove for their pistols.

  Lenny fired the first barrel at Whitey because he was quicker. Eight balls of lead blasted from the shotgun barrel and caught Whitey full in the chest, slamming him against the wall.

  The .22 spat bullets at the armchair but Slink rolled over the side of the recliner, ran through the hall and out the front door. As he fumbled for the car keys, he heard the shotgun roar a second time and knew Smurf was gone too. He snatched the car door open, jammed the keys in the ignition and whipped the stolen car around and up the driveway. He was on A1A in little over a minute since he’d yelled Whitey and Smurf to their deaths, but the only thing on his mind was how smart he’d been for slipping five thousand dollars from the bag and hiding it under his shirt.