Dirty Money

by Ashley Bartlett

“Nothing. Just wanted to talk. Weird day, you know?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can you hear me? Because the reception here is weird.” I was really hoping he got that I was asking if the line was safe.

  “Nope, sounds clear on my end. Go ahead.” Problem with talking in code. Neither of us had the answer key.

  “Well, I ran into some old friends. You remember Chris and E?”

  “Oh, sure. You went to school with them, right?”

  “Yeah. And they’ve gotten into some really bad shit I think.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like drugs or something. They both looked dead.” I let that hang there for a while. “At first I thought E looked worse, but then Chris started talking and now I think they’re both in the same situation.”

  “Do you know if they are getting help?”

  “I think they are beyond help.”

  Vito took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, honey. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. It just freaked me a little. I want to do something.”

  “You want my advice?”

  “Yeah. I know I should probably let it go, but I wanted your opinion.”

  “Sometimes you do have to let these things go. Make sure to keep yourself safe. I always told you to clean up your own messes, but don’t let them drag you down.” So get rid of the bodies, and get my ass out of there.

  “Okay.”

  “You can tell me all about it when you get home.”

  “I will.”

  “Oh, and don’t forget your mother wants to see photos of your new friends. So she can put names to faces.” Seriously? He wanted evidence that they were dead?

  “All of them?”

  “Mostly that new fellow you’ve been talking about.” Just Christopher then.

  “Sure, got it covered.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be okay. Bye, Dad.”

  “Bye, honey. See you soon.”

  I hung up the phone.

  “That went well,” Christopher said.

  “Yeah, except he wants photos of your corpse.”

  “Not entirely problematic.”

  “We’ve faked death before,” Breno said.

  “Good point. Plus, when I get back to Chicago I’ll probably be so traumatized I’ll need space.”

  “He will be suspicious if you leave right away,” Breno said.

  “True. I’ll give it a couple weeks. Then I’ll tell him about the nightmares. Killing a father figure and all that. So how did I kill you, Christopher?”

  “Vito knows I’m a queen. Love the drama. Tell him I acted like I passed out. You left the room. For more beer. Esau fell for the passed out thing. Untied me. I strangled him—”

  “Stop talking. You suck at lying,” I told him. “Simple is better. Here’s the story. I tied you up. Did a shitty job. You got your hands free and shot Esau. I killed you in self-defense.”

  “No,” Breno cut in. “Yes, to most of it. Except you should tell Vito you got mad and stabbed or shot Christopher. It wasn’t self-defense. It suggests loyalty to Esau and the DiGiovanni family as well as anger toward Christopher, a betrayer. It also allows for more guilt on your part later on.”

  “I like it.”

  “How are we going to do pictures?” Christopher asked.

  “Open a vein and smear blood all over you,” Breno responded.

  “That works. Are you okay if I dig a knife into your chest?”

  Christopher looked very much not okay with that.

  “A knife?” Breno asked.

  “We’ll stab him superficially a couple times.”

  “You are not stabbing me,” Christopher said.

  “Breno can do it if you want. Not deep. Just enough for noticeable wounds. As long as they bleed. Take the pictures with you at the bottom of a pit. It’ll be dark. Good enough.”

  “No. Stab wounds are too hard to fake. You should beat him,” Breno said.

  “What?” Christopher didn’t like that plan either.

  “Just on your face. Then we get your shirt bloody. It will photograph well.”

  “I like it. Most of it will be in the story I tell Vito anyway,” I said.

  “You better be a damn good liar,” Christopher said.

  “Don’t worry.” They looked worried. “Fine. You remember Ryan’s BMW that I wrecked senior year?”

  “Yeah.” Christopher was wary.

  “Ryan wrecked it. He was high.” Neither of them looked nearly as impressed as I was hoping. “I managed to convince you, the cops, and my mother that I was driving. I even got Ryan to think I was driving. He didn’t want to let me take the heat.”

  “I suppose I should thank you for getting him out of a DUI?” Christopher sounded decidedly not thankful.

  “No. It was stupid. I shouldn’t have let him drive in the first place. I’m just saying I can lie if necessary. And do a damn good job of it.” That was when we learned the very real lesson of why driving and substances didn’t mix. Bad decisions, all around.

  “That will work then,” Breno said. “I’ll go kill Esau.”

  “Shit. I really don’t like that part of the plan.”

  “That’s why you don’t have to do it,” Christopher said. Strangely, I wasn’t comforted.

  “Actually, wait.” I felt bad all of a sudden. Esau just happened to get caught up in this shit. It seemed like I should make it as easy as possible for him. “I’ll go talk to him.”

  They looked like they were going to protest, but they just followed me instead. Esau was awake. He looked livid. I pulled the tape off his mouth.

  “What the hell is this?” Esau asked.

  “A really shitty situation.”

  “Let me go. Now.”

  “Sorry, I can’t.” I really was sorry. I didn’t like Esau particularly. But I didn’t dislike him. “We have to kill you.”

  He smiled. “You won’t kill me.”

  “Why is everyone so sure I won’t kill them?” Okay, they were right. I didn’t have it in me to kill in cold blood. Even warm blood. As a general rule, I wasn’t a killer. Regardless of circumstance.

  “Because.” He taunted me with that soft, sweet voice.

  “Whatever. You get a choice. Do you want to be strangled, stabbed, or shot? I can possibly arrange drowning, but it’ll be a bitch.” His choice of death was the one kindness I could offer.

  “No,” Breno said from behind me. “No drowning.”

  “Okay, no drowning. I’ll give you a few minutes to think about it.”

  Esau seemed to think for a minute, but then his smile went all feral and creepy. “All right. I have decided.”

  “And the verdict?”

  “I don’t care how you do it, but I want you to kill me, not one of them.”

  “No.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t kill me.”

  “I could kill you. I choose not to. This is their mess, so they will kill you.” I thought about that as I said it. It pissed me off. I turned back to Christopher and Breno. “You guys really couldn’t think of a single way to get me alone in Chicago?”

  “Not without risking being seen,” Christopher said.

  “Good point.” Back to Esau. “So pick your poison.”

  “Ohhh, poison sounds nice.”

  “Damn it, Esau. Decide or it’s a bullet.”

  “I decided. I want you to do it. Come on, Cooper,” he crooned. “I believe in you.”

  That pissed me off. Like really. “Do you remember what you said when we met?”

  “That I like romance? I would love if you made this romantic. Blood has so many lovely shades, don’t you think?”

  “You compared yourself to Tommy.” Esau seemed confused at this turn in conversation. I lowered my voice to match his tones. “Do you know what happened to Tommy, Esau?”

  “No, Cooper. Do tell.”

  “Tommy got a hold of my girlfriend. He had his knife. And she was wearing a short skirt.�
� Esau’s eyes got a little big. His only show of surprise. “He kept tracing the blade…” I drew my fingers up and down Esau’s thigh. His breath caught. “The things he said to her.” I shook my head. “You know what Tommy is known for, right? I wasn’t going to let him rape her with that knife. No, Esau.” Behind me, I heard Breno step forward. I glanced back at him. Christopher had a hand wrapped around Breno’s bicep. His knuckles were white.

  “So what did you do, Cooper?” Esau was trying to taunt me again, but the honey had gone from his voice. Now his repetition of my name sounded hollow.

  “I killed him. I’m sure you heard about the trouble in Vegas. I didn’t mean to kill the other guy, but I very much intended to kill that sick fuck. He threatened my girl, my family. Now you are threatening my family. So, Esau,” I intoned, “How would you like me to kill you?”

  Esau was breathing hard now. His murky gaze was skittish. “Very good. You’ve taken my lessons to heart. Vito will be so proud.”

  “All right. Give me a gun.” I held out my hand.

  “No, you can’t,” Breno said. “I will.”

  “No worries.” I shrugged. “Gun.”

  They didn’t hand me a gun. I stomped over to Esau’s magic bag and pulled out a gun.

  “Perfect.” Esau smiled, but it was shaky. I pistol-whipped him again. His head dropped to his chest.

  “I thought you were going to kill him,” Breno said.

  “No. You guys are going to shoot him. Just not here. I don’t want to spend the night cleaning up blood. Where are we dumping the body?”

  “What the hell was that?” Christopher asked.

  I took a deep breath and thought about why I’d just intentionally scared a man who was about to die. “I was being selfish. I wanted him to respect me. I don’t know why that mattered.”

  “Were you telling the truth?” Breno asked. Christopher still had his arm in a vice grip.

  “Yes. But the twins are fine. We made a good team when they were still talking to me.”

  Breno yanked his arm from Christopher’s grasp and came toward me. “Thank you.” He enfolded me in a massive hug. “Thank you for protecting my baby.”

  I considered blowing him off. But I didn’t. I just hugged him back.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I wanted to bury the body in Latrobe, a little town outside of El Dorado Hills. It mostly consisted of a long, winding road and a lot of pasture. Easy access. No witnesses. Warmer ground. No snow. But Christopher just had to point out that the land was prime real estate. Would be developed in the next decade. I knew he was right so we went with his suggestion. We drove up 50, took a scenic road, drove off the path a bit. He said it hadn’t even snowed in Camino yet. Tahoe was hurting from the warm temperatures, he said.

  Christopher was wrong. It started snowing halfway through digging the hole. But, to be fair, it was well after midnight. Merry Christmas. At least the ground wasn’t totally frozen. Not that it mattered. The ground here was rock solid even in the height of summer. Probably because of all the rocks in it.

  “How deep are we digging this thing?” Breno asked from his hole.

  “Deeper.” I glanced over from my hole. His torso was still visible. “Until your shoulders, at least.”

  “Better dig faster. Cooper has you beat by a foot.” Christopher had the luxury of teasing. He wasn’t digging. Yet.

  “Be quiet,” Breno told him. “I still do not understand why we are digging two holes.”

  “Because Christopher is so damn tall and his body needs a long grave. It’s easier to dig two and join them. If we dug one then only one of us could dig at a time.”

  “Why do you know so much about digging holes?”

  “We buried the gold bars for safe keeping. I told you that.”

  “That is idiotic,” Breno said.

  “As dumb as getting the gold bars in the first place.”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Christopher said.

  “So did burying them.”

  “What about the storage locker?” Breno asked all condescending and shit.

  “Both were your daughter’s ideas.” Breno didn’t have anything to say after that. We kept digging. When the ground was level with my eyes, I tossed out my shovel.

  “Christopher,” I called out. “Give me a hand here.”

  “God, you look disgusting.” He offered a clean, leather clad hand. I grabbed it and jumped as he hauled me up.

  I would have protested, but I knew it was true. I was solid mud from the knees down. My back was damp from sweat, and everything else was damp from snow. My hair was bordering on frozen and just long enough to stab me in the eyes. And my nose was running. It was all very sexy.

  “Hey, Breno,” I said. He barely spared me a glance before turning back to his hole. Christopher wasn’t kidding. Dude was slow. “Get out. I’ll take over.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “I’m sure you can, but I’ll do it faster.”

  I watched as his inner twenty-year-old argued with his outer middle-aged man. The old man won.

  “Help me out.” Breno held up his hands like I had done. Christopher and I hauled him out.

  I jumped into the hole. “Check on Esau, okay?”

  They nodded and walked toward the blinding headlights. As I picked up the shovel, marginally warm from Breno’s hands, I tried not to think about my last Christmas. It wasn’t any different from anyone else’s Christmas. Not really. I was at my grandparents’, which sucked. But there was a warm fire. Real tree. Family. Presents. I remembered hating that Ryan was back home alone. Not alone, with Reese. They were with all my friends. And I pitied myself for not being with them. I didn’t bother to notice the warmth of my grandma’s hugs or the comfortable silence of reading next to my grandpa on the couch.

  Now I was digging a muddy-ass hole in the snow. Not a hole, a grave.

  “Christopher.” I don’t know why I yelled. The forest was quiet. Nothing interfered with my speech.

  “What’s up?”

  “Get in the other hole and start breaking down this wall.” I halted my digging long enough to tap the wall with my shovel.

  “All right.”

  I knew he didn’t want to. I knew his always-pristine clothing would get wrinkled and muddy. But this was his funeral. It was the least he could do.

  We didn’t finish digging until the weak, blue light of dawn began filtering through the trees. Why did the temperature always drop for that hour before and after dawn?

  “Breno, get me out of here.” I barely finished the sentence before his hands reached down to me. We both turned and helped Christopher climb out as well. If I looked half as bad as them, I knew I must have looked dead. “Christopher, go change your clothes.”

  Christopher nodded wearily. Before getting into Esau’s rented SUV, he stripped off his coat and sweater. Breno rushed to grab a plastic bag for the muddy items. Christopher dropped his pants to knee level before hitching himself onto the seat and kicking away his boots and pants. He emerged moments later in clean pants and a clean shirt.

  “Let’s do this fast. It’s cold.” He shivered and I didn’t think it was for show.

  “Just a sec. Let me clean my hands.” Breno poured water from a jug into my cupped hands. I scrubbed them, held out my hands for more water. When they were clean, or clean enough, there was still dirt under my nails, Breno handed me a towel.

  “I’m not a fan of this plan,” Christopher said.

  “Me either.” I shrugged off my jacket. But he kept talking so I waited.

  “Why aren’t you a fan? I’m the one getting beaten up.”

  “It won’t be enough blood. I want a pool of it around you and on your clothing. So I’m gonna slit my wrist for you. Ready?”

  “What?” Christopher asked.

  “Need blood. Will cut.” I pointed to the bend of my elbow.

  “You don’t need to do that. We don’t need that much blood.”

  “Yes, we do.
Enough for you to be dead. That’s a lot of blood. Would you rather I used Esau’s? ’Cause I don’t know where that dude has been and I can’t guarantee his cleanliness.”

  “But you’re clean?” He didn’t ask in a concerned father voice. It was more a you’re a whore and a liar voice. And I was seriously tired of that voice.

  “Damn it, Christopher. Yes, I’m clean. Austin used to make us all get checked every six months. For every imaginable thing. My last test was in June. Since then Reese is the only person I’ve slept with.” I put my fists up. “Now stop pissing me off because I’m about to kick the shit out of you.”

  “I still don’t think you should cut yourself for me.” Back to concerned.

  I shrugged. Enough talking. I punched him in the face. But I tempered the blow. I didn’t mean to.

  “That barely hurt,” Christopher said.

  “I know. Sorry. Maybe you should piss me off.”

  “You’re a whore.”

  “I’ve heard that before. Be original.”

  I hit him again. But we all knew I hadn’t hit him that hard. Breno leaned over and whispered something to Christopher.

  “Reese is too good for you,” Christopher said.

  That worked. I hit him hard enough to make my hand hurt.

  “Jesus. Ouch. She’s better looking. She’s smarter.”

  I aimed for his eye.

  “She’s classier.”

  I went for his mouth. Which I now wanted him to shut.

  “Fuck. You’ll never be able to respect her.”

  My fist glanced off his jaw and landed on his throat. He started coughing.

  “What the hell? That wasn’t necessary.” More coughing. Droplets of blood gathered at the corner of his mouth.

  “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to hit you in the throat.”

  “Stupid fuck. She knows you’re not good enough for her.”

  My vision went black. I used my left this time. Punched him in rapid succession. Four, five blows to the head. He started to fall, but Breno caught him.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine,” Christopher gasped. He grabbed a handful of Breno’s shirt to hold himself up. He wasn’t fine.

  “Should we stop?” I asked.

  “Not yet.” Breno.

  “Yeah, it’s okay. Keep going.” Christopher.

  “You sure?”