Back at the hotel, Mike hit the shower. He stood under the scalding hot water for a long time and the hot water steamed up the bathroom. He got out and stood in front of the fogged mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist. He reached up and wiped the condensation off the mirror.
The first swipe of his hand revealed Cowboy Hat looming in the doorway. Mike reacted too slow. Cowboy Hat was tough, big and fast and he had the cord around Mike’s neck in a flash. Mike got his left hand under the cord just in time to protect his neck, but Cowboy Hat had leverage and he pulled Mike backward out of the bathroom.
Mike could barely breathe, but his left hand saved him from certain death. Cowboy Hat put a knee in Mike’s back and pulled even harder. They fell onto the bed and rolled onto the floor. Mike ended up face down and he felt his left hand slipping out from between the cord and his neck. Cowboy Hat weighed a ton and he kept pulling tighter.
Mike felt the bones in his left hand start to give. If they broke, the fight and the whole deal went away. Frisby would be furious and Mike and Benny would be out a big chunk of change. Also Mike would have the added burden of being dead. Mike took a desperate step and moved his hand out from under the cord and made a desperate lunge forward to escape. He failed.
Cowboy Hat reworked his grip. Mike lost the last of his air and everything started to go black. Than as fast as it started, it stopped. The cord went slack and Cowboy Hat let out a muffled scream. Mike gasped for air and rolled out from under his assailant.
Benny stood over them holding a farmer’s sticking knife. He must have had it with him for the chickens. Cowboy Hat was on his knees facing away from Benny. Benny had poked a hole in the man’s throat and the blood pumped out in spurts that doused the carpet. In seconds his face had turned white and he fell forward with a thud.
Mike scrambled to his feet with his hands to his neck. It didn’t feel good. The rope had rubbed him raw.
“You all right?” Benny asked.
“Yeah, barely.” Mike gasped.
“He hurt your hand?”
“A little, but I can fake it.” Mike didn’t sound confident.
“Good. Frisby and Dilworth get in tonight.”
“Well, don’t let them come up here.” Mike smiled. “Not until we figure out how to get this room clean.” Mike stood there naked. He had lost his towel in the struggle and he turned to go back into the bathroom and get one.
Benny called after him. “We? I saved your life. I’m not cleaning anything. I’ll be in the bar.” Benny left and Mike stood alone with the body and a hell of a lot of blood.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As soon as Mike caught his breath, he dragged the body over to the tub. He dumped his attacker in, face down head by the drain. Mike went to the bed next and stripped the sheets and used them to wipe the blood off himself and the floor. When he was done, he dumped the blood-soaked linens into the tub on top of the body
He waited in his room until it got dark outside. He smoked and drank and stared out the window. After sunset there wasn’t much foot traffic, so Mike climbed out the window and stepped lightly onto the red-tile roof of the veranda. He picked his way slowly along the roof, but still cracked a few tiles.
It took him a while and all along the way, he had to resist the urge to peek through the windows. He didn’t have time for distractions. When he got to the end of the veranda, he crouched down low and gauged his surroundings. It was quiet, so he jumped off the roof.
He stayed motionless in the shadows until he was positive that he had not been seen. Then he crept along the side of the hotel to the alley and turned the corner. As soon as he did, he picked up the pace and ran two blocks to a grocery store. He had spotted it when out on his training jog. The weak lock on the back door was hard to miss.
When he got to the store, the lock proved him right. Mike picked it easy with a steak knife he had brought with him from the hotel. Inside he searched for the cashbox first, he found it and emptied it -- thirty-two dollars and change. Next he pilfered several thick canvas sacks and some rope to tie them closed. Then he looked for knives behind the butcher’s counter. He didn’t like the choices and tossed them all aside.
Mike was about to focus his search on a different part of the store when he glanced out the front window and spotted a hardware store across the street. Mike had missed that on his run, maybe because the sign was half hidden under a large drooping Sycamore tree. Mike grabbed the sacks and rope and headed out.
At the hardware store, Mike had some trouble with the door. He couldn’t work the lock with his knife and the wood was too heavy to force. Mike turned his attention to the windows. He checked two that faced the alley. One had a faulty latch and Mike worked it with the knife until it opened. He tumbled over the sill and fell on the dusty floor of a wood shop located at the back of the store.
He clambered to his feet and made his way down the aisles. In aisle two, he found a compact metal hatchet. At the end of the same aisle, he found a small hack saw. He put them both into one of the sacks. On his way out, he stopped by the front counter and looted the register. He got almost seven dollars in coins. When he was finished, Mike left the same way he came and ran back to the hotel.
When Mike got there, a cop wandered about on the veranda by the front entrance, so Mike stowed his loot in a nearby trash can and waited. Across the street, Benny appeared out of nowhere and made a beeline for Mike. The little guy had a skip in his step.
“You clean up that mess?” Benny lit a smoke.
“Waiting for me in the tub.” Mike snatched the cigarette away.
“Well, you better get to it, Frisby and Dilworth got off the train a half hour ago. You’re gonna be training in the morning early.” Benny lit himself another cigarette and tossed the burning match at Mike.
Mike dodged it. “I’ll be ready.” He said.
“Good, after he sees you practice and we talk a little boxing, we’ll meet Mitchell and Jones. By the afternoon, we’ll do the switch and then in the evening, before the bank closes, we’ll send him for the money.” Benny knew Mike didn’t need to review these steps. The little guy had come over to talk about something else, but Benny enjoyed wading through the preliminaries.
“He established?” Mike asked.
“At a hundred and twenty thousand before they got on the train. That’s what Frisby said over the wire.”
“Doc?” Mike asked.
“He’s at the place. He’s got the chickens. He’s a smart old coot that one. He’s done this before. You can tell.” Benny was bouncy with his patter. He was all lit up.
“He’s done everything before. He’s gotta be about a hundred.” Mike said.
Benny laughed, tossed away his cigarette, and got to the point. “Frisby knows about the man in your room. He’s starting to squawk.”
“How’d he find out?” Mike expected Benny had a good reason. He wasn’t an amateur.
“He was standing outside with me when I came in.” Benny shrugged.
“He didn’t want to help me out too?”
“Not a chance.” Benny answered.
“You think he’s gonna sell us out on the back end?”
“Maybe. Could be how that Cowboy found your room.” Benny answered.
“You sound like we’re leaving.” Mike sneered. He had gotten used to running out of places in a hurry, but it still made him angry. It wasn’t like they had shot the Kid. The Judge had done that.
“No, I wanna play this out. We need it. You?” Benny asked.
“If I wasn’t with you, you’d be dead already.”
“Easy, partner.” Benny patted Mike on the shoulder. “Don’t put me down yet. I got my uses. I already got a line on something new, something out of town, not too far, but out of town. It’ll give us some time for things to cool down.”
“Where?” Mike asked.
“Up near Fresno.” Benny paid close attention to Mike’s demeanor.
“That doesn’t mean a thing to me.”
B
enny liked that answer. “It’s not far. The deal looks good. Just be ready to travel as soon as the fight’s over.” Benny turned and walked away.
“Hey, you gonna give me a hand with the guy upstairs?” Mike called after him.
“No.” Benny didn’t look back.
Mike stayed in the alley behind the hotel smoking and kicking at the dirt until the cop pacing the veranda went back inside. Then Mike retrieved the canvas sacks and the stolen hardware from the trash and jogged across the street with his head on a swivel.
He put everything in one sack and tied it to his waist and clambered up the ornate railing onto the steep roof of the veranda. He ducked down and jogged toward his window. He brushed the fingers of his left hand along the roof top to keep steady. His heavy footfalls broke a lot of tiles.
He got back to his room and climbed in the window and sat on the floor for a second to catch his breath. His eyes scanned the room: the front door was bolted like he had left it and that was good, but the blood had spread out on the floor into a dark kidney-shaped stain. Mike would have to cut a large piece out of the carpet. If he was lucky, that would be the only evidence that something had happened.
Mike stood up using the bed as support. He was tired and he had a lot of work ahead of him. He gathered the sack of tools and took it into the bathroom. He stood over the tub and looked down at Cowboy Hat. The fellow had been dead for a few hours now and his limbs had started to stiff. There was a name for this, but Mike couldn’t place it.
Mike put his tools on the floor next to the tub, stripped naked, and climbed in on top of the body. He worked on the left arm first. He took the axe to the elbow and it came off on the first chop. The same place on the right arm took four chops. He couldn’t get the sweet spot. Afterward he cut off the upper arms at the shoulder. They separated easily.
When he was done, he put all the pieces in one sack. Then he started on the legs hacking them off at the knee. The blood in the tub rose to his ankles and he stood in a pink soup. After a while, he stopped to remove the flesh that blocked the drain and let the blood have a chance to run out.
To remove the head, Mike positioned the body across his lap facing up and exposing the neck. Then he started with the saw. The man was heavy despite missing his arms and legs and it was difficult work. Mike struggled and almost fell into the tub a number of times. Finally the blade found purchase and cut through the flesh easily until there was a sharp grinding sound. It took a few more hard strokes until the head popped free and rolled off.
Mike paused to catch his breath. He sat on the side of the tub and smoked, inhaling the cigarette quickly. When he finished, he packed the last of the body parts into the sacks. He climbed out of the tub and went to the carpet and cut out the stained piece. He put it in another sack along with the towels and the sheets he used to sop up blood.
Mike got in the tub with the sacks and did his best to shower off the blood and clean himself up. He dried himself with his last towel, then he got dressed and hurried out of the room. He left the hotel with his head down. He walked the neighborhood until he found an old Ford truck parked under a towering sycamore. Mike took it and drove back to the hotel.
He parked at the end of the veranda furthest from the front door, pulling right up next to the sloping roof and parked half under the eaves. He got out and hurried back inside. He didn’t see anyone when he crossed the lobby and rushed upstairs.
Back in his room, Mike sat on the edge of the bed and sucked down another smoke, glancing over at the tub between puffs where blood darkened the canvas bags. Soon the liquid would seep through and drip and Mike would have to clean all over again. Mike scowled, threw down his butt, and got back to work.
He grabbed the canvas bag that had the bloody linens and clothes. He would take it first, because it was the least incriminating, even if not by much. Mike climbed out the window again ducking low and crabbing his way along the steep roof of the veranda until he got to the edge. There he hid the bag up against building and went back to the room for the second bag.
It started leaking as soon as he got it out the window, dripping blood all along the roof. Each bag was worse, but none of them leaked in the room. They had the decency to wait until he got outside. When all of the bags were at out of the room, Mike started dropping them down into the truck. They hit the rusty metal bed with a wet thud. He did it quickly, one after the other: thud, thud, thud. Mike jumped down after them and landed in a crouch with his back to the hotel.
“What you got there?” A voice from the veranda behind him spoke with authority.
Mike turned around slowly. It was the cop that he had seen walking the beat. The man stood at the edge of the veranda looking down into the truck. He had his thumbs in his gun belt and his hat pulled down low over his head. He looked thick and slow-moving. Mike suspected that he had never fired his gun before.
Mike strolled around the front of the truck and up the narrow stairs onto the edge of the veranda like it was an afterthought. He threw his most disarming smile at the cop as he approached him.
“You need to stop right there, fella.” The cop ordered, moving his hand over his weapon and backing away. Mike kept coming. The cop gave more ground until he backed into the railing. Then He drew his gun.
“Take it easy, pal. I’m just cleaning the chimney.” Mike kept smiling.
“At night?” That was the cop’s last question.
Mike lunged forward and head-butted him and broke the his nose. With his right hand, Mike chopped down on the pistol and the weapon clattered free. Mike punched the stunned officer again. This time a solid left into the man’s gut. The cop doubled over and gasped for breath. Mike pulled him forward by the back of his head and the man fell face down on the wood floor. Mike dropped down on top of him and pressed his knee into the man’s spine. He grabbed his head with both hands. The cop gurgled for breathe. Mike twisted hard and snapped his neck. It was over in seconds.
Mike stayed down for a bit and gathered himself, then he picked up the cop and dumped him over the railing into the back of the truck. Mike hurried after him and got behind the wheel. He could hear some guests coming out onto the veranda behind him, but he didn’t turn to look. He paused just long enough to light another cigarette. He noticed some of the cop’s blood on his hands. He wiped it off on the upholstery.
Mike drove toward the edge of town. At a crossroads filling station, the grease monkey started out from the shop to pump it for him, but Mike waved him off. He didn’t want the kid looking into the back. Mike already had two guys in there. A third body and this really would be a long night.
Mike filled a couple of gas cans that he found by the pumps and tossed them in the back. Mike got in the truck without paying. The kid looked ready to protest the theft, but a glare from Mike and he kept his mouth shut. Mike drove away from the gas station and took a bumpy dirt track that led slowly up into the desert. The lights of Riverside flickered behind him. He drove until they lost their focus, then pulled over into a deep canyon. It was almost dawn when he started the fire.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mike walked out of the desert into Riverside in the early hours when the sun was still struggling to rise through the thick dusty-brown air. As he got close to the city, Mike started shadow boxing and jogging. To a passerby, he looked like a fighter out on a training run. He played it up as he made his way through the town toward the alley behind the hotel. When he got there, he was exhausted and he bent over with his hands on his knees and chased his breathe.
A thick gleaming sweat covered his body and he wiped his brow with the back of his hand. The salt stung his eyes and he had to squint to see Benny wandering out of the hotel with a glass of milk in his hand.
“How ya feeling, Mike?” Benny offered him the milk.
Mike nodded that he wanted it, so Benny came down into the alley and handed it to him. Behind him, Dilworth and Frisby came out carrying mugs of beer. They stayed on the loading dock looking down. Mike guzzled the dr
ink and handed back the empty glass.
“Remember Mr. Dilworth?” Benny sounded a little different now. He had slipped back into character.
“Hello I’m Mike. Grant.” Mike sounded punch drunk and pretended he had forgotten Dilworth.
Dilworth shook his hand. “We’ve met actually.” Dilworth had a big smile now. He didn’t get to be the smart one very often. “How’s the training coming big fella? You like to finish with a run or start with one? Huh? How’s the hand feel? It looks a little swollen.” Dilworth came off almost likeable.
“He ran first today. The hand is fine.” Benny answered for Mike.
Mike nodded along. He could tell from Dilworth’s conversation that they had already made the switch. Dilworth wasn’t thinking of the land deal anymore. His mind had turned toward the easy money. He was primed for the fixed fight.
“Well, if you’re almost done, maybe you could come along with us? Get a little breakfast?” Dilworth leaned in close.
Mike smelled the alcohol on his breath. It could have knocked him out. “Sure thing. I’ll need to go up to my room first. I’ll need to clean up.” He answered.
“Go ahead.” Benny gave him permission, so Mike turned away from them and jogged into the hotel.
As soon as Mike disappeared inside, Dilworth turned to the others. “He’s kind of a slow one, ain’t he?”
“He can fight, pal. He can fight. Don’t you worry.” Frisby poured beer through the side of his grin.
Mike made his way down the second floor hall to his room. He wasn’t in a hurry. He knew Benny and Frisby wanted time to work Dilworth into a frenzy over the boxing match. He also knew Mitchell was on the way with Jersey Jimmy Jones. Mike didn’t want to come back until after those fellas had arrived.
Mike was curious to see how Mitchell was going to play it. Mitchell needed a couple of partners to fill out his end. Mike doubted they would be reliable. Mitchell would go the cheap route and bring hopheads or booze-men, or maybe Mitchell would go heavy and bring trouble boys to try and take the whole score. Whichever Mitchell chose, Mike would know as soon as he saw his people.
Fixed Fight (Mike Chance series Book 2) Page 16