by Tonia Brown
Banjo was impressed. The whole setup was supposed to be a warning of sorts. The suggestion that Maloney had been inside of Waldorf’s dog’s pen was meant to scare the man, not drive him to physical contact with Maloney. Banjo supposed everyone had their breaking point. It was nice to see someone stand up for something they loved, even if it was a ratty little mutt.
“Finster?” Waldorf yelled. “Where are you boy?”
Several dogs barked in response, while only one yipped, high pitched and much more annoying than the others.
“Finny!” Waldorf shouted, stopping at the source of the yipping. At first he tried his own key, and upon finding it didn’t fit, he waggled his hand at Maloney without even looking at the man. “Give me the key. Please.”
Maloney passed the kennel key to Waldorf with a loud snort.
Waldorf snatched the key and unlocked the pen with a deftness that belied the man’s nervous nature. He lowered to one knee and peered into the pen. “Finny? Come here boy.”
A small, anxious schnauzer waddled out of the cage. The moment he laid eyes on the human, he leapt into the man’s arms.
Banjo smiled to himself as the human and mutt hugged one another.
“Nice fucking terrier,” Maloney said.
“It’s a miniature schnauzer,” Banjo corrected.
Waldorf yipped in surprise, almost in the same pitch as his little dog, and the pair of them nearly jumped out of their skins. Banjo forgot he was still in the shadows. His cover blown, he stepped into the low light of the kennel and gave Waldorf a short wave.
“This smart ass is my man, Banjo,” Maloney said.
“N-n-nice to meet you,” Waldorf stammered as he looked up to Banjo.
“Likewise,” Banjo said. He knelt down and lifted a hand out to the dog, palm side up.
The schnauzer sniffed Banjo’s palm, then took a long lick.
“He must like you,” Waldorf said, “because he usually just cowers and pees when someone new tries to pet him.”
“Well, I like you too,” Banjo said, and scratched the little dog between his floppy ears before standing again. “He’s a good looking animal. What made you decide not to show him?”
“It wasn’t my decision. Okay, Finny, you seem fine. Back in you go.” Waldorf pushed the dog back into the cage and locked it behind the animal. He stood again, brushing down his clothes. “How did you know I don’t show him?”
“His ears and tail. You left them natural.”
“Oh, right. Silly me. I’ve had him so long I forget these things.”
“Personally, I prefer it in a dog. Docking and cropping seems unusually cruel.”
Waldorf tipped his head to one side. “You don’t strike me as a fan of show dogs.”
Banjo almost laughed aloud at the question. “You’re right, I’m not. I only know because my aunt kept schnauzers for years.”
“Ah, I see. Finster was a gift from my ex-wife’s family. They showed miniature terriers, though they wanted to start with schnauzers. Finny was their first and only. They changed their minds shortly after they bought him. The wife wanted him, so they turned him over to us with his papers and everything.”
“An AKA registered dog is a heck of a gift.”
“Yes, well, it wasn’t meant as a gift, per say. By the time they decided not to show him, he had spent too much time with the little, yippy rats.”
“Is that why he’s so nervous?”
“Exactly. Which is also why the wife left him with me. Apparently, we both annoyed her.”
“Hey!” Malone snapped.
Banjo and Waldorf looked to Maloney.
“If you assholes are done sucking each other’s cocks,” Maloney said, “I would like a chance to speak.”
Banjo stepped back. “Sorry, boss.”
“You sure as fuck are.” Maloney turned his full attention and venom on Waldorf. “As I was saying before this fuckwit interrupted me, it seems we had a little mix up with our keys.”
“Yes,” Waldorf said. “That’s all straightened out now.” He grinned and slid his proper kennel key into his jacket pocket.
“Seems like things get mixed up all of the time. Know what I mean?”
Waldorf continued smiling while his right eye twitched, just a bit. “Not really.”
“Sure you do. Sometimes important things.”
The eye twitched again. Maloney was getting to the poor fool.
“Important things?” Waldorf said.
“Yeah,” Maloney said. “You look like a reasonable fucking guy. Say, hypothetically, you came into the possession of something that wasn’t yours. Like a kennel key. You’d try to find who it belonged to and give it back. Wouldn’t you?”
“Certainly.” A bead of sweat broke from Waldorf’s trembling upper lip, tracing its way down his mouth before it dripped off of his wavering chin.
“I mean,” Maloney paused as he took a step closer to Waldorf, trapping the man between himself and Banjo, “even if you were sent to pick up that thing, you wouldn’t just decide to keep it. Would you?”
Waldorf swallowed hard enough to hear as he backed up against Banjo. “Of course not.”
“And who knows, the person you were supposed to give it to might be so grateful to get it back, they might be all kinds of forgiving. Know what I mean?”
“I do.”
“Are you, Mr. Waldorf?”
“Am I what?”
Maloney moved in even closer and whispered, “All kinds of forgiving?”
Waldorf trembled all over and whispered, “Are you?”
Maloney smiled ever wider, rather than answer the question. He stepped away from Waldorf, taking a long and silent look at the smaller man before snapping his fingers at Banjo then heading for the stairwell once more. Without looking back, he said, “I’m so glad we could finally meet in person, Mr. Waldorf. Enjoy your visit to the tropics. I hear it’s a great place to lose oneself.”
Banjo followed his boss man up the stairs, leaving the frightened mortician trembling in the kennel alone.
The pair of men made their way back to Maloney’s suite in silence. Banjo knew the boss was stewing over something; probably mad about how friendly Banjo had gotten with the dog. They were there to intimidate the mark, not pet his pup. Banjo couldn’t help it. No matter how big or small the beast, he always made easy friends with animals, perhaps because he understood them better than most people.
“How’d it go?” Marv asked from his place on the couch.
“It went well,” Banjo said.
“It was a fucking circus,” Maloney said, slipping out of his jacket. “You and that goddamned dog. Really? Did you have to pet the filthy thing? I could’ve puked. Way to inspire fear, dumbass.”
“Dog petter,” Chris spat.
He and Marv snickered.
“Sorry, boss,” Banjo said.
“I know,” Maloney said. “I don’t pay you to be sorry. I pay you to break people for me.” Maloney popped the button on his trousers and unzipped them as he relaxed on the couch.
Marv jumped up, giving the boss man the entire couch to spread out on.
“You think I sent a clear enough message?” Maloney asked.
“Sure you did,” Marv said.
“I wasn’t talking to you, dipshit,” Maloney said.
“If he didn’t hear you, then he’s deaf as a post,” Banjo said. He waited by the door waiting for Maloney to dismiss him for the night.
“If he knows what’s good for him, he will bring that bag to me first thing tomorrow. Hell, tonight even.”
“You think he will?” Chris asked.
“Who gives a shit? I’m gonna kill him either way.”
Banjo sighed. It was just like the asshole to insinuate one thing yet mean nothing at all.
“The pigs were there too, right?” Maloney asked.
“Jones said he told them all about it,” Marv replied.
“I think he saw them climbing into the vents,” Chris said.
�
�Good,” Maloney said. “I hope they are fucking confused now. You like how I kept insinuficating that the punk works for me?”
The mispronounced word grated Banjo’s nerves. “Yeah, boss. That was really clever.”
“Damn right it was. You think you’re the only smart one around here? Well fuck that shit.”
“Yeah, fuck that shit,” Marv echoed.
“You have me there,” Banjo said. “Do you need anything else from me tonight?”
“Yeah,” Maloney said and set to unbuttoning his shirt. “If that fucking shitstain doesn’t have my bag up here by sunrise, I want you to go down there and throw his dog overboard.”
“Excuse me?”
“You fucking heard me.” Maloney stood, letting his pants slide to the floor, exposing his pale, scrawny legs.
Banjo always thought it was odd that a man of such impressive bulk had such pitiful legs. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the image. “Why the dog?”
“Because I don’t like schnauzers and I am trying to make a fucking point. If I don’t get my money by sunrise, I want that mutt of his dead. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And make sure Waldorf knows I ordered it. I want him to know who he is fucking with. And his little dog too.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh, and find Penny and tell her I want her to report to me, pronto.”
“I thought she was supposed to meet up with Waldorf?”
“She must’ve missed him at dinner. I want to know why.”
“No way, boss,” Chris said. “I saw her with him in the mess hall.”
“Maybe they made plans to meet later?” Marv said.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Maloney said. “If you met a whore that good looking on a ship like this, would you have been walking around alone, checking on your goddamned dog?”
“I guess not,” Marv admitted.
“Damn right. You’d have her hanging on your arm like the fucking prize she is. Or better still, be in your room fucking her goddamned brains out. So he must’ve missed the whore. Now get the fuck out of here. I need my beauty sleep. Tell Penny to let herself in.”
Banjo bit his tongue almost in two as he slipped out of the suite behind the other men. He slowed in his steps, allowing the pair of idiots a chance to get ahead and back to their own shared room. Banjo had taken a cheaper room in the lower deck, alone and at his own expense. The price was worth it when he considered the free alternative consisted of sharing a room with those two morons. Once they were gone, Banjo sped up, throwing his hatred for Maloney into his hurried steps. Nothing would give him more pleasure in the world than laying that foul mouthed asshole flat. Or better still, giving Toney “Waldorf” Maloney a taste of his own nut oriented medicine.
Perhaps one day.
Perhaps not. Maloney was a pretty big deal in the small crime circuit. He wasn’t a sheik or a prince or the head of one of the major syndicates, but the man still carried weight. Turning on the likes of him would spell suicide for the professional in Banjo. He would probably never get work again if word of such a betrayal got around. Best put up with it until his contract came up for renewal.
Or someone else plugged Maloney first.
Thus was the life of a well-paid thug.
Banjo made his way across the upper deck in silence, slowing again and stepping along softly so he could pass Waldorf’s room without incident. He dreaded delivering another summons to Penny. Dirty. That was the way it felt every time he had to tell her that animal wanted to lay hands on her. Banjo supposed a woman with her class deserved better. She deserved wine and roses, not walnuts and foul language. Then again, Penny was a big girl and in control of her own life. If she didn’t want to bed the likes of Maloney, she would say as much. Though Banjo suspected her ties to Maloney were tighter than even his own. If he had his guess, he’d say she would never get away from Maloney’s beck and call. At least not alive.
Thus was the life of a well-paid whore as well.
Speaking of Penny, just before Banjo rounded the corner that led to Waldorf’s room, he swore he heard her tinkling laughter. Banjo ducked to the end of the walkway, hugging the wall as he peered around the corner. Sure enough, Penny stood in the glowing light pouring through Waldorf’s open door.
“Once again, Mr. Waldorf,” she said. “You’re a very funny man.”
“I assure you,” Waldorf said, “I’m being perfectly serious. You are the most beautiful woman on this boat.”
“Well, thank you. It’s been a long time since anyone’s called me beautiful without wanting something in return. Or do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Want something in return?”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“Is that so?” She looked down, a flash of disappointment crossing her beautiful face.
Banjo wanted to smack Waldorf for saying something so stupid. It was obvious that Penny was interested in the man, and not the paid interest that Maloney had put her up to faking. He hadn’t seen her smile so warmly in weeks. If he didn’t know better, Banjo would say the girl was sweet on the mortician. Maybe there was happiness in the world for their kind after all.
Good for her.
“I meant to say,” Waldorf started, then paused and swallowed hard, obviously a nervous habit for the man, “I don’t want anything you wouldn’t willingly give.”
Banjo smirked. Good for Waldorf, too.
Penny looked up to Waldorf, that warm, genuine smile returning. “I know a few things I am willing to offer.”
Waldorf grinned like a goon at her.
She grinned just as goofily back at him.
And there they stood in the doorway, grinning at one another like a bunch of love struck monkeys. It was sort of a shame he was gonna have to kill Waldorf when all of this was over.
“Aren’t you going to invite me inside for a nightcap?” she finally asked.
“I would love to invite you inside for a nightcap,” Waldorf said.
“I would love to come inside for a nightcap.”
She stepped into his room, closing the door softly behind her.
Banjo leaned away from the corner, a mantle of trouble settling on him. This was all part of the larger plan to screw around with the mark, which meant things should’ve been going well. Yet, for the first time in a long time, Banjo empathized with his target. The guy seemed like a regular hardworking stiff. Sure, he came across a filthy amount of money that wasn’t his and started spending it like a madman, yet who wouldn’t do that very same thing? It certainly didn’t make him worthy of ending up with his own testicles shoved into his slashed throat. Banjo could probably retrieve the bag himself and cover the money the man had spent, though the money wasn’t the issue.
Waldorf had made Maloney look like a fool, and Banjo supposed that’s why he liked Waldorf most of all.
He decided to keep the lovers’ tryst to himself and return to his own room three decks down. Maloney would figure things out soon enough. Banjo peered around the corner once more to Waldorf’s room, thinking how lucky the son of a bitch was for wooing a lady like Penny. If things were different, in another life, another time, another universe, then maybe, just maybe, Benjamin Williams and Penelope Lane could have, would have … alas, such things were not for the likes of their kind.
As Banjo sighed his situation away, something at the end of the walkway caught his eye. Something lingering in the shadows. Something that looked an awful lot like the corpse of an older man, with his throat slit from ear to ear. The corpse smiled wide enough to match the gap in his gullet as he nodded to Banjo. Banjo closed his eyes, rubbed them with the heels of his hands, then looked down the deck again. Nothing was there. He was tired and just seeing things. Banjo shrugged away the phantom and headed off to get some much needed sleep.
Sunrise came early, and first thing in the morning he had to go see a dog about a man.
Chapter Eleven
It Happened One Night
Fifteen minutes earlier
Frank wormed his way out of the vent and hopped down, hitting the floor with a resounding thud. His aching legs screamed at him for trying to do a young man’s job.
“My knees are killing me,” Larry said as he crawled out of the vent behind Frank.
“Your knees?” Frank said. “Try pushing sixty and climbing in there. Besides, I told you to wait in the room if you couldn’t handle it.”
“I can handle it. Wasn’t no way I was gonna miss out on this.” He wedged the vent cover back in place and looked around the kennel, wincing at the barking and whining of the various caged mutts. “Sure are a lot of dogs.”
“Makes me miss my Keekee. Come on, let’s see if there’s anything left to eat.” Frank headed for the stairs, and Larry obediently fell in line.
“I’ve always wanted a dog,” Larry said.
“You should get one. They make good company for when the little woman gets mad at you.” Frank smiled to himself. It was a mean thing to say, and he couldn’t help but snag the setup.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. You think Lucy will make me sleep on the couch when we get back?”
“Maybe.”
“Too bad I don’t have a couch.”
“I’ll tell you what. If she evicts you from the bed, you can sleep at my place.”
“Missus Wallace won’t mind?”
“She’s used to it. I’ll warn you, though, you’ll still be on the couch.”
“Better than the floor. I wonder where the other two were.”
“Johnson and Pruitt? I’m sure they were sniffing around somewhere. Maloney doesn’t go anywhere without his lapdogs.”
“You think Maloney and his man knew we were listening?”
“Doesn’t matter. We aren’t going to give them long enough to do anything about it.”
“How’s that?”
“We’re going to have a chat with Mr. Waldorf tonight.”
“We are?”
“Sure. After that little display in the kennel, I am fairly sure Waldorf has no idea what’s going on. I’m also certain he has the money with him.”
“Maloney sure acted like he knew Waldorf.”