Die, lover, die

by Joel Goldman

  Oh shit. Where the hell was Felipe?

  The driver’s door was open. On the front seat, shards of glass, two empty cans of Goose Island beer, and a grease-stained pizza box.

  But no duffel bag of money.

  Double shit.

  She heard the purr of an engine and wheeled around, ready to shoot. Or run. Or both. A stretch limo – virgin white – pulled up to the Impala. On its rear door, the silhouette of a naked woman and the words, “Platinum Gentleman’s Club.”

  The windows were tinted as dark as that dead waitress’ soul. She couldn’t tell if anyone was in the back, until the rear window rolled down.

  A man’s voice – as familiar as her own – said, “Get in, Lauren.”

  Triple shit.

  “I don’t have the money,” she said.

  “It’s not about the money. It’s personal.”

  “So what is it you want, Jimmy?”

  He stepped out and motioned her into the limo, holding the door for her, pretending to be a gentleman instead of the asshole he was. Lauren ducked her head, slid across the long seat to the opposite door, leaned back and stared into Felipe’s dead face, his body propped up on the seat across from her, the duffle bag snug against his side.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “End of the line for you, kiddo.”

  Ten minutes later, they were inside the Platinum Gentleman’s Club, a skinny white chick on stage, swinging around the pole, her tits as sad and tired as her face, one man in the seats, alone in the dark. The man raised his hand, the music stopped and the chick took a seat next to him.

  “I got her and the money, Carl, just like I told you I would.”

  Jimmy handed Carl the duffle bag, shoved Lauren onto the stage and stepped away, the three of them forming a triangle.

  “So here’s the thing, Lauren,” Carl said. “In this business, you never know who you can trust. People will fuck you for sport and kill you just to let you know they meant it. And, from what I hear, you’re pretty damn good at both.”

  “A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.”

  “I’m counting on that.”

  The white chick picked up a 9 mm. Sig on the chair next to her, walked to the stage and handed it to Lauren.

  “One round, that’s all you got,” Carl said. “Now, unless I’ve completely misjudged Jimmy, he’s pointing his gun at my head right about now. That right, Jimmy?”

  “Figure I can’t miss from this distance.”

  “So what’s it gonna be, Lauren? One shot. Who do you want to take your chances with? Jimmy or me?”

  Lauren wrapped her fingers around 9mm. If Lauren had a friend in the room, it was definitely the gun. Too bad there was little time to be properly acquainted.

  Mirrors covering the floor, wall and ceiling of the stage multiplied Lauren and her two marks, her estranged husband and the massive mound of flesh that was supposedly named Carl.

  “For all you know, there’s no bullet in that gun,” Jimmy said, as Lauren lifted the 9mm.

  “But you have more than one round, right, Jimmy? She goes for me and you get me and then her. You trust him? The asshole who’s wiped your Winfield dreams away?”

  These fuckers are just playing with me, Lauren thought. They were getting off on this. The ultimate strip show. It was one thing to pay a girl money to take off her clothes, but to force her to play head games on stage without any cash, that was just plain unacceptable.

  “Didn’t know that you answered to anybody,” Lauren said, pointing the gun at her husband. Her shoulder was now aching full force and her arm pulsated. “Didn’t know your boss was Jabba the Hut.”

  Both men laughed, but Lauren was anything but amused, thinking about what Carl had said. Nobody knew about her connection to Winfield, Kansas, not even Jimmy, and nobody could have known, would even have wanted to know. Except for maybe someone with access to official papers. Government papers. So that’s why she was being toyed with and kept alive.

  “Jimmy, you fool,” Lauren said, pulling the trigger.

  The hammer clicked on the empty chamber, as she'd known it would. Both men roared again. "She went for it," Carl said. "Her own fucking husband. Who'd have believed it?"

  "Thanks, doll," Jimmy grinned at her. "You just won me fifty bucks."

  "Collect it in Hell," Lauren said, and tossed the gun toward him. Reflex made him grab for it as she pulled the Glock out of her waistband, tucked around the back where her jacket had kept it covered. She was a lousy shot and she knew it, but out of the four she blasted off in Jimmy's direction, one of them found a mark while he was still fumbling.

  Jimmy was on the floor and making noises like a drain as she walked to the edge of the stage and stepped down before Carl. The white chick had shrieked and run and Carl was still struggling up out of his seat as Lauren drove him back into it with a single round, close range.

  He clutched at his chest and cursed her.

  She said. "That's no way to speak to a grieving widow," and shot him again. She saw no sign of the duffel bag.

  She found it with the skinny dancer in a back office. More mirrors. The woman was under the desk and the phone was off the hook, the emergency dispatcher still on the line. Lauren cradled the receiver and pulled the stripper out of hiding.

  "Nice try," she said, retrieving her property. "But your act needs work. Trust me. I've been there. Same club, same logo, different city." On the desk lay a bunch of keys with a BMW fob. She scooped them up and left the dancer sobbing.

  For the second time that night, she drove back toward the crime scene.

  The trail that she'd left – diner, car wreck, titty bar – would point the cops in a southbound direction. So she headed north, observed the speed limit, and put on her most innocent face.

  Two motorcycle cops were now in attendance at the multiple wreck caused by Felipe's Impala, and they'd laid down flares to create a perimeter. One cop was waving cars through with a lightstick while the other checked distances with a laser tool.

  At the diner, she slowed again. Here they'd shut off the entire road, and were diverting traffic around the block. News helicopters were jostling for airspace overhead. As she went by she could see bright lights and technicians in their scene suits, carrying bags of evidence out to waiting vehicles.

  From the next gas station, she made a payphone call. The FBI operator took almost a minute to connect her to a cell.

  "Hank," she said, "you bastard."

  "Lauren," he said. "Way to break a two-year silence. I'm heading for Chicago. Your work, I assume."

  "You're running up here to take the credit?"

  "To seize a recording. Seems a woman was caught on camera outside the diner."

  "You never meant for me to inform on Jimmy. You sent me in to ruin his luck."

  "I never meant for you to marry him either, but you're a woman who can't keep her pants on her ass or her hands off easy money. I never saw a femme so fucking fatale. You're fast and you're toxic and you didn't disappoint. It was a joy to see you burn your way through the entire chain of command in just three days."

  "So why rat me out at the end? So no one would get to walk away, including me?"

  There was silence.

  Then Hank said, "Keep the money, Lauren. You've earned it." And ended the call.

  Before leaving the gas station she picked up a new duffel bag. Carl's blood was all over the first.

  Later, in a Mom and Pop motel somewhere near Black River Falls, Lauren switched on a bedside light and closed the drapes and laid Felipe's bag on the covers. She opened the zip and reached in to transfer her money.

  Lauren pulled out a bundle. It wasn't cash. She unrolled it.

  It was a set of chef's whites, rolled up around a set of kitchen knives.

  She rummaged about in disbelief but there was nothing else in the bag. Felipe hadn't run with the money.

  Felipe had merely run.

  She swore. She paced the room for a while. Reme
mbering the sight of those crime scene techs, carrying evidence out of the diner. Then she opened the drapes and stood looking out into the night. The first signs of daylight were beginning to appear in the sky.

  She'd have to bury or burn the whites and the duffel bag. But the knives, she'd keep. She'd find a use for them. She would hold onto the BMW for a while longer, but she'd change the plates.

  Lauren Blaine stayed at the window for a long time, lost in her own thoughts.

  Making her plans for Hank.

  Who Wrote What

  …with the line that began their section

  Part One

  Bill Crider

  Harry Shannon (Lauren’s heart was in her throat…)

  Vicki Hendricks (The combine driver leaped…)

  Max Allan Collins (“Pull her into the barn…”)

  Ed Gorman (She knew she had only seconds…)

  Dave Zeltserman (“Drop it.”)

  Bill Crider (Lauren didn’t waste any time…)

  Harry Shannon (“Why did Jimmy send three?”)

  Vicki Hendricks (The engine cut off…)

  Max Allan Collins (The collie was docile enough…)

  Ed Gorman (“Oh, thank God…”)

  Dave Zeltserman (As it turned out…)

  Part Two

  Libby Fischer Hellmann

  Lee Goldberg (A woman came in wearing tight, black leather pants…)

  Paul Levine (Lauren kept her gaze level and her face expressionless…)

  Joel Goldman (“Hey! Leave her alone!”)

  Naomi Hirahara (She dropped the severed head onto the linoleum floor..)

  Stephen Gallagher (Before Lauren could react, the waitress grabbed her…)

  Libby Fischer Hellmann (“The fuck are you doing?”)

  Lee Goldberg (Lauren hurried off and around the corner…)

  Paul Levine (Lauren reached into a pocket and drew out an object..)

  Joel Goldman (He stepped out and motioned her into the limo…)

  Naomi Hirahara (Lauren wrapped her fingers around the 9mm…)

  Stephen Gallagher (The hammer clicked on the empty chamber…)

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  MAX ALLAN COLLINS has earned an unprecedented fifteen Private Eye Writers of America “Shamus” nominations, winning for his Nathan Heller novels, True Detective (1983) and Stolen Away (1991), receiving the PWA life achievement award, the Eye, in 2007. His graphic novel Road to Perdition (1998) is the basis of the Academy Award-winning 2002 film starring Tom Hanks. He has written a number of suspense series, including Quarry, Nolan, Mallory, and Eliot Ness; is completing a number of “Mike Hammer” novels begun by the late Mickey Spillane; and collaborates with Matthew Clemens on the J.C. Harrow serial killer novels. His many comics credits include the syndicated strip Dick Tracy; his own Ms. Tree; Batman; and CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, based on the hit TV series for which he has also written ten novels that have sold millions of copies worldwide. He has written and directed five feature films and two documentaries, and co-scripted The Last Lullaby, based on his acclaimed novel, The Last Quarry. He and his wife Barbara collaborate (as “Barbara Allan”) on the successful “Trash ‘n’ Treasures” mysteries – their Antiques Flee Market (2008) won the Romantic Times Best Humorous Mystery Novel award in 2009.

  BILL CRIDER is the author of more than seventy published novels and numerous short stories in multiple genres. He won the Anthony Award for best first mystery novel in 1987 for Too Late to Die. His story “Cranked” from Damn Near Dead was nominated for the Edgar award. His first private-eye novel, Dead on the Island, was nominated for a Shamus, and his children’s book Mike Gonzo and the UFO Terror won the Golden Duck Award for best juvenile SF novel. He has written six acclaimed western novels, including Ryan Rides Back, and as Jack MacLane he published a series of horror novels with Zebra Books, all of which, beginning with Goodnight Moom, are now available in e-book format. He is also writing for the Rancho Diablo e-book series and the Dead Man e-book series created by Lee Goldberg and William Rabkin. Check out his blog at http://billcrider.blogspot.com and his homepage at www.billcrider.com.

  LEE GOLDBERG is a two-time Edgar Award nominee whose many TV writing and/or producing credits include Martial Law, SeaQuest, Diagnosis Murder, Monk and The Glades. As an international TV development consultant, he’s worked for production companies and broadcasters in Canada, France, Germany, Spain, Sweden, and the Netherlands. His books include The Walk, My Gun Has Bullets, Successful Television Writing, Watch Me Die, The Dead Man series of original ebooks and the bestselling Monk series of original mystery novels. He’s also the co-founder, with Max Allan Collins, of the International Association of Media Tie-in Writers.

  JOEL GOLDMAN is the Edgar and Shamus nominated author of two thriller series, one featuring trial lawyer Lou Mason and the other featuring former FBI Special Agent, Jack Davis. His novels and short stories have been optioned for film and television. His next Lou Mason novel, Final Judgment, will be released in March 2012. His newest novel, Liberty Park, featuring Public Defender Alex Stone, will be released in 2011. He is also proud to be writing an upcoming installment in Lee Goldberg’s and William Rabkin’s new series, The Dead Man. Joel can be reached at www.joelgoldman.com and on Facebook, Twitter and Linked-In.

  Kirkus called ED GORMAN “One of the most original crime writers around.” While Gorman has worked in a number of genres, suspense fiction is his favorite genre to write in and read. Gorman’s novels The Poker Club and The Haunted have both been filmed. Author of more than thirty novels and ten collections of short stories, The Oxford Book of Short Stories noted that his work “provides fresh ideas, characters and approaches.” The Rocky Mountain News called him “The modern master of the lean and mean thriller.” Gorman’s thrillers include Blood Moon and The Marilyn Tapes both available as part of the Top Suspense Group (TSG). His novel Cage of Night, also available on TSG, is one of Gorman’s personal favorites. The sites Gravetapping and Good Reads noted “It is truly a classic of the macabre—part mystery, part suspense, and entirely chilling and haunting.” Gorman is now busy on a suspense novel he hopes to finish this year. Gorman can be reached at New Improved Gorman http://www.newimprovedgorman.com/

  LIBBY FISCHER HELLMANN, an award-winning crime fiction author, released her 7th novel December, 2010. Set the Night on Fire, a stand-alone thriller, goes back, in part, to the late Sixties in Chicago. She also writes two crime fiction series. The first, which includes the hard-boiled Easy Innocence (2008) and Doubleback (2009,) features Chicago P.I Georgia Davis. In addition there are four novels in the Ellie Foreman series, which Libby describes as a cross between “Desperate Housewives” and “24.” Libby has also published over 15 short stories in Nice Girl Does Noir and has edited the acclaimed crime fiction anthology, Chicago Blues. She has been nominated twice for the Anthony Award and once for the Agatha. Originally from Washington DC, she has lived in Chicago for 30 years and claims they’ll take her out of there feet first. More at her website: www.libbyhellmann.com

  VICKI HENDRICKS is the author of noir novels Miami Purity, Iguana Love, Voluntary Madness, Sky Blues, and Cruel Poetry, the latter an Edgar Award finalist in 2008. Her short stories appear in many collections, including Otto Penzler’s Murder for Revenge, Susie Bright’s Best American Erotica 2000. The complete collection of her short fiction, Florida Gothic Stories, was published in 2010. Hendricks has an MFA in Creative writing from Florida International University. She lives in Hollywood, Florida, and has been teaching writing at Broward College for thirty years. Her plots and settings reflect participation in adventure sports, such as skydiving and scuba, and knowledge of the Florida environment. Currently, she is working on Fur People, an animal hoarder love story. Dennis Lehane has named her “the high priestess of neo-noir, a fierce and fearless talent” and Michael Connelly recommends Miami Purity as “a modern noir masterpiece.” Her website is www.vickihendricks.com, and she has recently started a blog for aspiring writers at http://vickihendrickscrime-
noir.blogspot.com/ Find her first four novels and story collection on Kindle and Nook at www.topsuspense.com.

  NAOMI HIRAHARA is the Edgar Award-winning author of the Mas Arai mystery series, which features a Japanese American gardener and atomic-bomb survivor who solves crimes. Nominated also for Macavity and Anthony awards, the novels in the series include Summer of the Big Bachi, Gasa-Gasa Girl, Snakeskin Shamisen and Blood Hina. Her first novel for children, 1001 Cranes, was chosen as an Honor Book for the Youth Literature of the Asian/Pacific American Award for Literature in 2009. A graduate of Stanford University with a degree in international relations, she served as the chapter president of the Southern California chapter of Mystery Writers of America in 2010. Her web site is www.naomihirahara.com.

  HARRY SHANNON has been an actor, a singer, an Emmy-nominated songwriter, a recording artist in Europe, a music publisher, a VP of Carolco Pictures and worked as a free-lance Music Supervisor on films such as “Basic Instinct” and “Universal Soldier.” His books include Dead and Gone, Daemon, the Mick Callahan novels Memorial Day, Eye of the Burning Man, One of the Wicked, and Running Cold, as well as the thriller The Pressure of Darkness. His Stoker-nominated short story collection A Host of Shadows got this rave from Publisher’s Weekly, “Impeccable pacing and an eye for the terrifying will leave the reader shaken and unsettled.” Shannon has won the Black Quill for Short Fiction and the Tombstone for Best Horror Novel. Harry can be reached via his web site at www.harryshannon.com or via Facebook.

  DAVE ZELTSERMAN won the 2010 Shamus Award for Julius Katz and is the acclaimed author of the ‘man out of prison’ crime trilogy: Small Crimes, Pariah and Killer, where Small Crimes was named by NPR as one of the five best crime and mystery novels of 2008, and Small Crimes and Pariah (2009) were both picked by the Washington Post as best books of the year. His recent The Caretaker of Lorne Field received a starred review from Publisher’s Weekly, calling it a ‘superb mix of humor and horror’, has been short listed by ALA for best horror novel of 2010. Outsourced (2011) has already been called ‘a small gem of crime fiction’ by Booklist and has been optioned by Impact Pictures and Constantin Film. Look for his upcoming crime thriller, A Killer’s Essence in the fall of 2011. Dave can be reached via his web site at www.davezeltserman.com.