by Amos Gunner
CHAPTER 27: BOBBY
He reminded me of Wendy’s old dog when it had been found out behaving bad and it was sorry and it hungered for you to love it again. Its expression was so pitiful you couldn’t help but cave in and pat it on its head. But then I remembered Darryl face colliding with the pavement in front of the motel. Then I didn’t care about Adam Sutler. Then I could begin.
“Know who I is?” The wrong grammar felt weird in my mouth. To my ears, my tough and intimidating voice made fun of Sampson, like it sounded at the frozen yogurt place. But I think it worked on Adam.
He didn’t know who I was. Am. Still am because there’s still an I.
I told him. His dim expression didn’t brighten till I said, “Darryl Cooper was my brother.” That got the reaction I wanted. He deflated. He had an inkling about what was coming and he didn’t look forward to its arrival.
I pulled the paper from my pocket, grabbed the phone in the living room, dialed a few numbers, then hung up, faced with one more detail I hadn’t worked out: what to say. I had to be confident and clear, communicate what I wanted from her in the fewest words possible. But I also had to put the fear of God into her.
I was confident I knew what to say before I really knew what to say. I dialed the entire number. The pause before the connection seemed longer than normal and the pause after the first ring took another forever. This is the moment, I thought, when I can’t turn back, forgetting about the cop I had bound to a chair.
Her voice was hot. That caught me off guard. But Adam Sutler grunted behind me and put me back on track.
“If you ever want to see your husband again, you’ll do what I say.”
“Who is this?” She turned ugly.
“I’m the guy who’s gonna kill your husband, bitch.”
My delivery seemed so fake to me, but I think they bought it. Adam did at least. He struggled and moaned. It was a good idea to tighten the tape. He got the chair on two legs, and slowly but surely, he toppled to the floor. I bent over him and tried to pull the tape from his mouth. I could pull it down only as far as his top lip. I put the phone to his mouth and told him to say something.
“God.” He spoke like his mouth was full of marbles. “Brenda. This psycho--”
His wife’s long, high pitched wail shook the phone. I hung up.
“What a bitch.”
I tried to get the gag back on Adam Sutler, but he wouldn’t shut up. “Look, all my money is yours. Take it. Let me go. I won’t tell anyone.” I’ve heard those lines in a million shows. They didn’t belong in the real world.
I told him to stop talking. He wouldn’t. I hit his mouth. His lip was split, but barely. I saw a red line but no blood flowed. I got the gag back on.
I left him on the floor and went to the couch. I caught my breath and massaged my sore middle knuckle. I dreaded calling her back. I played with the idea that I had already doled out enough punishment. Already, I had successfully traumatized this guy and his wife, and maybe I could’ve let it go at that. Maybe I could’ve gotten the hell out of there and tried to catch an earlier bus.
But Darryl was worth more than a half-assed scheme. And dropping the whole thing didn’t solve the problem of Zeke Ravella.
I grabbed the phone and hit the redial button. She was calmer.
“There he is. Want to see him again?”
There was a tense pause. Tense for me. It never occurred to me that she might not want to see him again. Maybe she had been hoping to dump her husband for a while and I had answered her prayers.
“Of course I do,” she finally answered.
“Then kill Zeke Ravella.”
Another pause, then she asked me to repeat myself. I was happy to. She said she couldn’t. I told her she had to.
My thumb got nervous. I had to call again.
“And no cops. I mean, except Zeke Ravella. And you ain’t got much time. And we’re watching.”
“You are?”
“Yes. I can see you right now.”
She sniffled. “But I can’t do it.”
“Look, someone’s gonna die. Either Zeke Ravella or your husband. It’s your choice.” I said it patiently, but sort of menacing too. Sometimes Marcus would talk that way and it was always eerie. I hung up.
Adam was heavier then he looked. I hurt my arms getting him upright. I sat across from him at the table.
“You hear all that?”
His response through the tape was a long “mmm”.
“I kinda lied at the end. You’re gonna die too. You know that, right?”
His “mmm” broke up and got choppy and rapid. He shook his head. I nodded mine.
I pointed to the shattered TV. “By the way, you like my surveillance system?”