Shotgun Honey Presents: Locked and Loaded (Both Barrels Book 3)

by Owen Laukkanen

  The room is furnished with sad-ass rundown furniture —stuffing blooming out the vinyl skin of a chair leaning on a swaybacked couch in front of a console television with a crack spidering across the dirty screen. I see what he means.

  But he doesn’t understand me.

  I catch up to him three steps from the kitchen and, from behind, casually sweep my leg into his path, sending him sprawling onto the dingy linoleum. The sound he makes is less surprise than disgust, and stops well short of a scream, cry, or yelp, but, when I stoop and grab his right hand and snap his little finger in one fluid motion, it becomes significantly more frustrated. I’ll take it.

  I give him his hand back and he clutches it in his left. “What else do you want broken?” Hate is in his eyes, but he won’t look at me. “Hey.” I snap my fingers in front of his face. “Gramps. We can’t sell any of this shit to raise your nut. You have any new ideas on getting Mr. Smith’s money or should we keep going down this road?”

  He still doesn’t say anything, just burns a hole in the far wall with his stare.

  “Fine.” I grab for his feet this time and flip the slipper off the left one like a juice top, pausing with his bare foot—gnarly, yellow claws, too dull to glint—cradled in my hands, just long enough for him to spit in defiance, still not looking at me, before I twist and pop on the little toe.

  He snuffs and mewls a bit now, but he’s far from where I want him to be.

  “Listen, old man, we both know you’re never going to get it together. So, short of that, this is how you work it off.” I grab the telephone from its stand on the wall just above the kitchen counter and drop it at the front door as I’m leaving, so he can call somebody if he needs to.

  When I’m just about through the door, I hear him say, “This how you handled Jesse?” And I see red.

  I turn around, closing the door behind me, and walk back to him.

  “Fuck did you say?”

  He returns to his indignant huffing and staring past my shoulder.

  I grab his right wrist away from his clutching left hand and lay the whole arm flat on the linoleum. I grab the sap out of my back pocket and hold it steady over his shaking limb. I ask again, “What do you know about it?”

  This is clearly more than he bargained for, and he’s huffing in fear.

  “Hey, old man, what do you wanna say about my brother, huh? You think I’d do this kind of shit to my own brother?” I bring the sap down on his wrist and hear the bone snap.

  Now he cries. Hot, angry tears have sprung from those red, cracked eye sockets.

  I haven’t released the hand back to him. Instead, I hold the arm, with my left hand, above the wrist and let it dangle. With my right hand I grab the fingers and gently twist. The tears sputter, and the cries strangle. It’s a victory. A big, fat, hollow victory.

  I hate myself.

  The grass isn’t exactly cool or soft to the touch, but there is a hint of symmetrical definition to the small plot I’ve been grooming. I haul a lawn chair out of the trunk and set it up in the middle of the eight by eight patch and face it northwest to avoid the worst of the sun.

  I don’t say anything out loud. That’d be nuts.

  Took the kids to a game the other day… Wasn’t the same. I crack the top off my lager. It’s foamy and warm. I chuckle. Jared farts a lot. Tanya hates that hotbox shit. Doesn’t get it. I tell her, I don’t really either anymore, but when you and me were kids we were just like that… Jill misses you awful bad, says we have to move away. But don’t worry… We won’t.

  Reaching down for my next beer, I sense a presence behind me, and turn to see Lyle Brendanowitz on my six.

  “Hal.”

  “Detective. You off duty?”

  He nods, and I toss him a warm beer. He cracks the beverage and cops a squat on my neatly cropped patch of weeds. We share a silence and a beer, and it’s almost nice, but the way he runs his hands through the fresh-cut grass bothers me. I’m sorry.

  Finally, he speaks. “Kind of a shit view, Hal.”

  He’s right. Weeds, abandoned strip mall, the highway in the distance passing over the old rail yard. Unused billboards with a dozen tattered, peeling, messages peeking through. It’s not a postcard vista, I’ll give him that. Sorry.

  “You know, you’ve never been my favorite human being,” I don’t turn my head to him, and he continues, “but you’ve got your qualities. I can see that. Loyalty, for one.”

  I take a drink, and smother a burp in my mouth.

  “Your problem, the way I see it, is you keep getting the wrong jobs. Making the wrong commitments.”

  “Yeah? You’ve got the right ones?”

  He shakes his head. “No, I’m not saying that.” He kills his beer and I indicate that he should help himself to another, which he does. “But I’m not burdened by your instinct for sacrifice. Pretty much always act in self-interest.”

  “How’s that working out?”

  His silence makes my point. I think.

  After a moment, he continues. “You don’t owe Austin Smith anything more. And he doesn’t have much time left at the top of the pile. I’ve seen his kind when they’re caught too. Think he’s gonna nobly clam up when his tit’s in the wringer?” He shakes his head, even though I’m not looking at him. I know him. He’s shaking his head and swallowing beer. “Nuh-uh, it’s gonna be a fire sale on shitheels and stand-up guys alike. Be nobody left to take care of Jill and the kids.”

  Bullshit. He’ll be left. He’ll be there for Jill. Hell, he’ll be there for my kids for Jill’s sake. So why’s he selling me options? Due diligence? Ease that slovenly conscience of his later on when he’s comforting my wife?

  “You like my beer, Detective?” He doesn’t answer. “How about you just enjoy what I’m offering freely, and shut the fuck up, huh?”

  To his credit, he does.

  He’ll be good to Jill.

  The next night I’m late getting home from work and the house is empty. No note, no message on the machine. I call Jill’s mom in Arnold. “Hey, Betty, it’s Hal. Jill around?”

  “Oh hi, Hal. No, I haven’t seen her. Everything alright?”

  “Yeah, everything’s good. Just thought maybe she’d brought the kids over.”

  “Want me to call anybody?”

  “Nah, it’s alright. Talk to you later.”

  I wash up and eat some cold, leftover pasta. After an hour I get a phone call from work. Somebody’s there long after close. “Yeah?”

  “Hal, I need you to swing by the shop.” Austin Smith.

  “Can it wait, I’m kind of needed at home, man.”

  “Hal, I sent Jill and the kids out of town.”

  That ball of wet rags in my guts hardens and I nearly drop the phone. “You what?”

  “Why don’t you come in and talk about it. I want you to go see them. Take that vacation I’ve been talking to you about.”

  “I’m coming in.”

  I hate doing it, but as soon as I hang up, I call Brendanowitz. He doesn’t answer, but I leave him a voice message. “Hey, it’s Hal… About Jesse… I think maybe… You should follow your hunches.”

  I’m not armed because it would hardly make a difference I were. And I suppose there’s a small chance that I’m wrong about what I’m walking in to, and if I came in carrying it could give him ideas that I don’t want to. Back office is the only light on and I’m meant to walk toward it. If I’m right, Dougie Rasmussen is standing in the shadows somewhere behind me, but I don’t look.

  I stand in the doorway and see Austin Smith sitting behind the desk, doing me the courtesy of not pretending to be busy with anything else. “Have a seat, Hal.”

  I don’t move to sit, but I don’t hover either. I try to put more patience than is reasonable into my voice. “Where are they, Austin?”

  “They’re on vacation, Hal, relax.”

  “You can’t just—“

  “It was Jill who came to me, Hal.” That brings me up short. “At some point she has t
o start thinking about the kids.”

  Behind me, I hear Dougie Rasmussen approach. “C’mon, Hal, let’s take a drive.”

  I turn to him slowly, “Just a minute.” To Austin Smith I say, “Tell me they’re going to be alright.”

  “Hal, what do you take me for? Hand to God, I love those kids, and Jill… She’s just looking out for them. You broke her heart, Hal. And mine. Saw you out there again the other day. Talking with that cop, no less.”

  “He came to me, Austin.”

  “This isn’t the time to play innocent.”

  “Never claimed innocence, but I’ve always been loyal.”

  “Yeah, you have, Hal, and I’m not blaming you. This thing with Jesse… It’s just been more than you could handle, and I’m real sorry about that.” He gives me a sad smile. “Still… I’d be a fool to wait any longer.”

  He would.

  We take a drive and I don’t complain.

  What Alva Wants

  Timothy Friend

  What Alva wants, Alva gets. Luster Dobbs regretted ever having made such an ignorant statement. Especially since Alva was the type to hold a hard-pecker promise over a man’s head both day and night. Worse still, as soon as she got what she wanted, she wanted more. More clothes, bigger house, and now a new car. If it wasn’t for all of Alva’s wanting, he never would have come to the Happy Dragon during Spider’s business hours.

  Luster paused for a moment just inside the door, half-blinded by the sudden change from full sunlight to barroom neon. Even though he couldn’t see him, Luster knew Spider was watching from his usual booth in the back corner.

  He thought about leaving. Just turning around and hurrying home, telling Alva that Spider wasn’t there. Maybe stall a while longer until he came up with a better idea. But he knew there wouldn’t be any better ideas. He didn’t do this, Alva was gone. Off to greener pastures.

  Wasn’t that long ago his own pastures had looked pretty green. He’d been top salesman at Roy DeFlower’s Used Auto, pulling down serious cash every week. Luster’s success was due to the fact that Roy’s salesmen dealt primarily in cocaine. Then Roy got busted with a fifteen year old girl in his passenger seat and several bricks of coke in his trunk.

  Now Luster sold shoes at the mall. His pasture was dried up, and Alva was hinting that her pussy might be affected by the drought. Whenever she wanted something that Luster couldn’t afford, which was damn near every day, she threw his own words back in his face. What Alva wants, Alva gets.

  Luster had said those words to her the first time they were together. Just pillow talk, trying to convince her she should be with him. She’d been Spider’s woman then. They’d fucked in Spider’s own bed while the man was tending to business right here in the Happy Dragon. Luster didn’t think Spider knew about that. Hoped he didn’t.

  That was almost a year ago. And Alva assured him that enough water had passed under the bridge. Kept insisting that Spider wouldn’t hold a grudge over it. Luster wanted to believe her, but then thought about Alva’s smooth brown legs and her soft lips and wondered just how long he would hold a grudge if things were the other way around.

  “Well if it ain’t Luster Dee.” Spider’s gravelly voice heaved out of the dark. “Ain’t seen you around for a while. Come on over here and sit.”

  Luster hesitated.

  “Come on, now. I don’t bite.”

  Luster knew this to be half true. With his gooned-up leg and scrawny frame Spider wasn’t much of a direct threat to anyone, but he had a way of taking care of business indirectly. He didn’t need to bite when he could have someone else do the biting for him.

  The bar was empty except for Spider and the bartender. Luster weaved his way through the vacant tables until he reached the booth. Spider sat sideways with his back against the wall, his bad leg stretched out on the seat. He had a Bloody Mary on the table beside him. The light from the lamp hanging overhead didn’t reach his face.

  “So what brings you ‘round, Luster Dee?” Spider’s words were carried on a billow of white smoke. He stubbed out his cigarette in a tin ashtray as Luster took the seat across from him.

  Luster felt awkward, didn’t know where to start. “You heard about Roy?”

  “Mm-hm. I heard about his dumb ass.”

  “Well, I was working for him,” Luster said. “Doing okay, too. Now I’m selling shoes. Making shit for money. I was hoping you could-”

  “Where at?”

  “What?”

  “Where you selling shoes at?”

  Luster had to think for a second. “Uh...Shoe Shack. Over at Westerton Square.”

  “I was planning on getting some new shoes. Think you can set me up?”

  “I...uh, I guess.”

  “I got to have’em special made ‘cause of my leg. Extra wide, thicker sole. Can they do that there?”

  Luster shook his head. “Naw. Just right outta the box. I don’t think they do anything special.”

  Spider sipped at his Bloody Mary. “Yeah. Nothing special. And that’s where you are now. Fuckin’ Shoe Shack.”

  Luster wanted to box his ears. Wanted to say, “Look here, cripple, least I’m the one fucking Alva.” But he knew that wasn’t going to be the case much longer if he didn’t make some money soon. He bit his lip and sat quietly.

  “You want to work for me now,” Spider said. “That it?”

  “Yeah. I heard you might have something.”

  “Where you hear that?”

  Luster didn’t speak.

  “Go on,” Spider said. “Where you hear it from?”

  “Alva.” Luster’s throat tightened when he said her name. “I heard it from Alva.”

  “Yeah,” Spider said. “I knew that. Just wanted you to say her name, let you see I’m over it.”

  Spider leaned forward to set his drink down, and his yellowed ivory smile came into the light. “Bygones and what-not.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Luster said. “It was just one of those things, y’know.”

  “I know,” Spider said. “You didn’t intend for it to happen.”

  “No, course not.”

  “There was no malice aforethought.”

  Luster stared blankly.

  “You didn’t plan it,” Spider said.

  “Yeah. No. I wouldn’t do that.”

  “No. You ain’t a planner. That’s my line. You’re more of a doer. That it?”

  Luster nodded, not sure where this was going.

  Spider leaned back, lit up another cigarette, closed his eyes. He sat quietly for a moment, then said “I might could have something for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, maybe. I’ll set up a meet with Delroy tonight. See what I can arrange.”

  “I thought you and Delroy were banging heads?”

  Spider looked at Luster sharply, his smile gone. “Alva tell you that too?”

  “No,” Luster was suddenly afraid he’d fucked up. “Word just gets around. Thought you two were feuding.”

  “Maybe we reconciled,” Spider said. “It ain’t your concern.”

  Delroy dealt in guns, crank and whatever prescription drugs he could get his hands on. He’d lately ventured into parts of town Spider claimed as his own. In Luster’s experience these things rarely resulted in reconciliation. But like Spider said, it wasn’t his concern.

  “Be here tomorrow noon,” Spider said. “Things go the way I want, I’ll have a job for you.”

  Luster thanked him and got out of the booth. Halfway to the door he heard Spider call from the dark. “Give Alva my love.”

  Luster thought Alva would be excited to hear that things had worked out with Spider. On the way home he picked up a bottle of good bourbon he couldn’t afford, hoping they could have a little celebration.

  She wasn’t there when Luster got home, just a note saying she had to work late. He drank the bourbon alone, just him and his hard-on. By the time Alva got home he was too drunk to do anything about it. When she kissed him goodnight—a dr
y peck on the cheek—he noticed she was wearing a new perfume. Probably expensive. Probably charged it to his damn credit card.

  Luster fell asleep in front of the television, woke up the next morning with a headache. He took a shower, dressed and popped a handful of aspirin. He peeked in at Alva before he left. She was lying on her stomach, blankets kicked off, giving him a nice view of her firm, round ass. Luster sighed and headed off to meet Spider.

  Spider was waiting for him in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheel of a brand new car. Luster didn’t know shit about cars, but he could tell it was something pricey. Just the kind of thing Alva would want.

  Spider rolled his window down as Luster parked and got out. His door squeaked when he shut it, and he felt a twinge of embarrassment.

  “Lookin’ a little rough there, Luster Dee.” Spider said. “You have a late night? Alva wearing you out?”

  “You know how it is,” Luster said.

  Spider grinned. “Yeah. I know exactly how it is.”

  Luster didn’t like the tone of that comment, but he kept his mouth shut.

  Spider motioned him closer, then handed Luster a package. It was about the size of a shoe box, wrapped in brown paper. “I need you to deliver this. Think you can do that?”

  Luster nodded. “Where you need it to go?”

  “You gonna take it to Delroy’s place. You know where that is?”

  “Sure. But why didn’t you just give it to Delroy when you saw him yesterday?”

  Spider pulled his sunglasses down and gave Luster a stare. “Because I didn’t have it then. That all right with you? That meet with your approval, Mr. Shoe Salesman?”

  Luster thought about dragging the gimp out of his car, kicking him silly right there in the parking lot. Instead he said, “Yeah, fine.”

  “You give that to Delroy’s boys. Ask for Cole. Tell him things keep on the way they are they can expect a lot more where that came from. And you got to be sure and tell him this is from Merton.”

  “Merton Cullins?”

  “How many fuckin’ Merton’s you know?”