When Somebody Kills You

by Robert J. Randisi

  ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘what—’

  ‘What’s the problem, Delving?’ I asked. ‘Don’t wanna be in the same room with the two guys you shot at yesterday?’

  ‘I–I wasn’t sh–shootin’ at him!’ he exclaimed, pointing a shaky finger at Jerry. ‘I was shootin’ at you!’

  ‘And why was that?’ I asked. ‘What did I ever do to you?’

  ‘Nothin’,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t personal.’

  ‘Just business, huh?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s right,’ he said, nodding, ‘business.’

  ‘Guess that ten grand looked like easy money when I came walkin’ across the lobby of the Sands, huh?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, sourly, ‘too easy.’

  ‘You ain’t a pro, Delving,’ Jerry said. ‘You may be a hard guy, but you rushed your shots.’

  ‘Figures,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Why’s that?’ I asked.

  ‘I ain’t never had the luck,’ he complained. ‘I get all the shit jobs. This was my chance to …’ He trailed off, shaking his head.

  ‘To what?’ I asked. ‘Move up?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘move up.’

  ‘Well, you blew it,’ Jerry said, ‘but you still got a chance for some luck.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ he asked. ‘How’s that?’

  ‘Tell us who put the hit out on me, and maybe you can walk out of here,’ I said, fully aware of the fact that I didn’t have the authority to let him walk anywhere.

  ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’ll tell you what I been tellin’ the cops. I don’t know who put it out.’

  ‘Then how did you expect to get paid?’

  He clammed up.

  Jerry moved forward, pointed his thick forefinger at Delving, just a few inches from the man’s nose.

  ‘Now listen,’ he said, ‘you may think you’re a hard guy, but by the time I’m done with ya, you ain’t gonna be so sure.’

  ‘I tol’ ya,’ Delving complained, ‘I wasn’t shootin’ at you!’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ I said, pointing to Jerry. ‘You know who he is?’

  ‘I seen him around.’

  Jerry and I exchanged a glance.

  ‘Where?’ I asked.

  ‘In Brooklyn.’

  ‘You from Brooklyn?’ Jerry asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ the man said, ‘so what?’

  ‘You heard about this contract in Brooklyn?’ Jerry said.

  ‘Yeah, so?’

  ‘Where? From who?’

  ‘Same place you heard about it, probably,’ Delving said. ‘On the street.’

  ‘And you flew here to collect?’

  Delving nodded and said, ‘On my last dime.’

  I looked at Jerry again, then back at Delving.

  ‘What’s your first name?’ I asked.

  ‘Mickey.’

  ‘Mickey,’ I said, ‘how would you like a shower, a steak and a suite at the Sands?’

  His eyebrows shot up. ‘Yer kiddin’.’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ I said, ‘but before you get any of those things, we’re gonna have to get you somethin’ else.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘A good lawyer.’

  ‘What are you tryin’ to pull?’ Hargrove asked when we came out.

  ‘We need him cooperative,’ I said. ‘I set him up at the Sands and I’m gonna be his best friend.’

  ‘And what do you think you’ll get out of him?’ Holliday asked.

  ‘Names,’ I said, ‘just names.’

  ‘You think he knows who put the hit out on you?’

  ‘Probably not,’ I said. ‘Jerry heard about it, but he doesn’t know where it came from.’

  Hargrove looked at Jerry. ‘How’d you hear?’

  ‘A street source,’ Jerry said. ‘A guy who knew I knew Mr G. He sold me the info for a double sawbuck.’

  ‘And where did he get the info?’ Holliday asked.

  ‘Heard it in a bar in East New York,’ Jerry said.

  ‘Did you check it out?’ Hargrove asked.

  ‘Yeah, but not real well. I needed to hop on a plane and get out here. The bartender said the guy heard it from a guy who knew a guy.’

  ‘And what makes you think you’ll get more out of this mug by putting him up in the lap of luxury?’

  ‘It can’t be any worse than you’ve done keepin’ him here,’ I said. ‘Whataya say?’

  Hargrove thought it over, then said, ‘OK, you can have him, but Holliday goes with you.’ He pointed at his partner, who apparently had no say in the matter.

  SEVENTY-TWO

  Holliday drove us all in his unmarked car, heading to the Sands. We had to drive with the windows open because of the stench coming off Mickey Delving. My bandage was itching and I was sure Jerry’s was, too. It’d be four by the time we got back to the hotel, and maybe we could all have a shower.

  ‘Do you know anything about the FBI bein’ in town?’ I asked. I was in front with Holliday, while Jerry rode in back with Delving.

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘Because we met one. An agent, I mean. Don’t they have to check in with the local cops when they come to town?’

  ‘Man,’ Holliday said, ‘the Feds do what they want, make their own rules. What was this fella’s name?’

  ‘Seagrave.’

  ‘Never heard of him. What’d he want?’

  ‘It doesn’t have anythin’ to do with the contract,’ I said. ‘It has somethin’ to do with why we were in LA.’

  ‘Nothin’ to do with me, then.’

  ‘No.’

  He shrugged. ‘Suits me. I hate the Feds.’

  ‘You see that car?’ Jerry called out.

  ‘What car?’ Holliday asked.

  Before Jerry could answer, we got slammed hard from behind.

  ‘That one!’ Jerry called out.

  ‘What the—’ Holliday said as we got hit again.

  I turned in my seat to look behind us. As I did, another car came up alongside us, on the driver’s side.

  ‘Watch it—’ I started to say, but the window next to Holliday’s head shattered and something wet hit me in the face. It took me a moment to realize it was Holliday’s blood.

  ‘Get the wheel, Mr G.!’ Jerry shouted. I saw that he had his .45 in his hand. Later, I realized he really had hidden the gun in the back seat of the police car.

  I reached out for the wheel, but Holliday’s hands were locked on it. I couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead, but I couldn’t get his paws off the wheel.

  We got another hit from behind, and Delving yelled, ‘Holy crap!’

  We were on a residential street, and as we came to a lane of parked cars the shooter’s car couldn’t stay next to us. It dropped back, and now we had two cars behind us, but only one at a time could bump us.

  Holliday’s foot was also jammed down on the gas pedal, and we were picking up speed, careening out of control.

  ‘Mr G.!’ Jerry yelled.

  ‘I’m tryin’!’

  The rear windshield shattered – from how many bullets I couldn’t say. I knew one whizzed by my head and poked a hole in the front windshield.

  I finally got Holliday’s hands off the wheel as I heard the report of Jerry’s .45. He fired three times, but I had no way of knowing what effect they had.

  Up ahead of us I saw a parking lot coming up and figured that was our best bet. We couldn’t outrun our pursuers with Holliday stuck behind the wheel, and I couldn’t get the driver’s side door open to dump him out – not that I would have done that even if I could.

  ‘The parking lot!’ Jerry shouted.

  ‘I see it!’

  He fired again, but my ears were already ringing from his first shots. I jerked the wheel to the right and we catapulted over a curb into the parking lot at high speed. I reached across Holliday’s leg with my left foot, feeling for the brake pedal. As I stomped down on it, his foot came off the gas and our tires screeched as we headed for a strip mall. The car started to swerve to the left, so I yank
ed the wheel in that direction. We spun around a few times and came to a stop with the rear bumper practically up against a storefront. I didn’t know what damage we had done, but at least we hadn’t gone through the display window.

  ‘Out! Out!’ Jerry yelled. ‘They’re comin’.’

  Delving opened his door and fell out of the car, sprawling on to the asphalt lot. Jerry slammed his open and got out in a more deliberate manner.

  I wasn’t out yet, and Jerry yelled my name.

  ‘In a minute!’

  I frisked Holliday, found his gun on his belt and jerked it free, then opened my door and tumbled out gracelessly.

  ‘Take cover!’ Jerry yelled, crouching behind his open door and reloading.

  Delving panicked and ran. He had got part of the way across the parking lot when a volley of shots made him dance and then fall.

  Suddenly, it was quiet.

  ‘How many?’ I asked Jerry.

  ‘Looks like four of ’em,’ he called back, ‘two from each car.’

  ‘I got Holliday’s gun,’ I said.

  ‘Good. We’re gonna need to keep ’em off us until the cops get here.’

  ‘And what makes you think they’re gonna get here?’ I asked.

  ‘’Cause you’re gonna call ’em on the car radio.’

  Shit! Why hadn’t I thought of that?

  SEVENTY-THREE

  I slipped back into the front seat, grabbed the radio mike, figured out how to use it and froze.

  ‘What do I say?’ I yelled to Jerry.

  ‘Man down,’ Jerry said. ‘Tell ’em you got a cop shot in the parking lot at … Merchandise King.’

  I keyed the handset and started shouting into it in what I hoped was a coherent voice.

  ‘Hey, wait,’ someone said, ‘who is this?’

  ‘What does it matter who this is?’ I demanded, ‘You’ve got an officer down out here. Tell Detective Hargrove his partner is dow—’

  I might not have gotten the message across because the shooting started again right at that moment. I dropped the handset and ducked down as far as I could go. When the volley was over, I slid out of the car again, crouched down behind my door.

  ‘Jerry, you OK?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Is Holliday dead?’

  ‘I can’t tell,’ I said. ‘I think so. I’ve got his blood on me.’

  ‘And Delving?’

  I looked over at the fallen man. ‘He’s down – hasn’t moved.’

  ‘Well,’ Jerry said, ‘if they were after him, I guess they’d be gone by now. That means they’re after you, and this time they mean business. This looks like a pro hit team.’

  ‘Oh, great,’ I said. ‘That’s all I need.’

  ‘No, Mr G.,’ he said, ‘that is what we need. If we can take one of these guys alive, he might know somethin’.’

  ‘If we can take one of them alive?’ I asked. ‘How about we concentrate on gettin’ ourselves out of here alive?’

  ‘What kind of store is this Merchandise King?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘Lots of furniture, I think.’ It wasn’t five yet. Either it had closed early or it was closed up, out of business.

  ‘If we can get inside, there’ll be lots of places to hide until the cops show up. And maybe if they come in after us, I can grab one of ’em.’

  ‘Jerry—’

  ‘Come on, Mr G.,’ he said. ‘All we gotta do is kick out some glass.’

  At that point I figured it might have been a good thing after all if the car had gone through the front window.

  ‘They’ll hear it and know we went inside.’

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘That’s what I want. You still got Holliday’s gun?’

  ‘I’ve got it.’ I gripped it tightly in my sweaty hand.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Looks like a thirty-eight, with five shots.’

  ‘OK,’ he said, ‘don’t fire unless you know you got a good shot, OK?’

  Hell, I’d have to be in somebody’s lap to get a good shot, but I said, ‘Yeah, OK.’

  ‘Now,’ he said, ‘when I say go, make for the window. I’ll kick it in.’

  I heard him fire two shots, then yell, ‘Go!’ By the time I got to the window, he was there. One swift kick and the thing shattered. He rolled inside and I felt a shard of glass still in the frame gash my right calf.

  ‘Ow!’ I shouted as we came to a stop.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I cut myself,’ I said.

  ‘Bad?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I looked down. ‘I’m gonna leave a trail, though.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, ‘we can use that.’ He grabbed me by the jacket, pulled and said, ‘Come on!’

  We left a trail of blood leading to a living-room set-up, and then Jerry used his handkerchief and mine to bind my leg.

  ‘Ain’t too bad,’ he said. ‘Might need a few stitches.’

  ‘A few more,’ I said. ‘It’s the same damn leg. How’s your shoulder?’

  ‘It’s OK.’

  ‘Now what?’ We kept our voices down.

  ‘They’re in here already,’ he said. ‘They’ll probably split up. Your blood trail leads to that sofa. You hide behind that chair over there.’ He pointed.

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I’ll be over here,’ he said. ‘If they do split up, I may be able to take them one at a time.’

  ‘And if not?’

  He slapped me on the shoulder. ‘Then we’ll take ’em out together.’

  ‘Great,’ I said.

  We heard somebody cry out then, sounding as if they’d walked into something.

  ‘Go,’ he said. ‘Go!’

  I dragged myself over behind the large armchair he’d indicated. The makeshift bandage felt tight on my leg, and I was no longer leaving a trail.

  I peered around to see where Jerry had gone, but for a big man he moved quick and was nowhere in sight. I listened intently, still heard somebody moving around.

  I slipped Holliday’s .38 from my pocket, wondering if the detective was alive or dead.

  SEVENTY-FOUR

  ‘There,’ I heard somebody say.

  ‘We gotta get outta here before the cops come,’ another voice said.

  ‘I ain’t walkin’ away from ten grand,’ the first voice said. ‘Not when I’m this close to it. And I don’t hear no sirens. Look, the blood goes there.’

  ‘You guys are gonna hear more than sirens,’ I heard Jerry say. ‘More like little birdies.’

  I peered around just in time to see the two men turn to see Jerry standing behind them, towering over them.

  ‘What the—’ one of the said, but Jerry cut him off with a right that put him down and out. In fact, I would have been surprised if the guy wasn’t eating through a straw for months.

  As he went down, the other one reached for his belt. I could see Jerry’s .45 was not in his hand.

  ‘Don’t,’ Jerry advised him. ‘We only need one of you alive.’

  ‘Yeah, fuck you,’ the guy said, and made a move for his belt.

  Jerry drew his .45 and shot the guy once. I felt as if I was at an old Saturday morning matinee, watching Tom Mix.

  ‘Billy!’ a voice called from somewhere else in the store. ‘You get ’im?’

  ‘Billy?’ another voice called.

  ‘Billy can’t answer right now,’ Jerry called back.

  I stood up as I heard one man curse and another say, ‘Let’s get the hell out of here.’

  We heard them run, and then we heard the sirens.

  ‘Mr G.?’ Jerry said. ‘Do we run?’

  ‘We can’t, Jerry,’ I said. ‘We got a dead man in here, maybe two outside, and one of them is a cop. We can’t talk our way out of this one.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, sticking his gun back in his belt and gesturing to the man on the floor, ‘at least we got this one alive.’

  I looked down at the unconscious man. He had blood coming from his mouth. He might have bitten
his tongue, and given it was Jerry who hit him, he might even have bitten it clean through.

  ‘If he can even talk,’ I said. I looked down at Holliday’s gun in my hand and dropped it to the floor.

  ‘He’ll talk,’ Jerry said. ‘He’ll sing like a canary, even if he has to write his answers down.’

  ‘You said these guys were pros.’

  ‘They acted like it.’

  ‘Then if we couldn’t get Delving to talk, what makes you think this one will tell us anything?’

  ‘Because he’ll be smart enough to be afraid,’ Jerry said, ‘once he finds out Mr Giancana didn’t sanction this hit.’

  SEVENTY-FIVE

  Holliday was dead.

  Turns out I didn’t only have his blood on me, but his brains, too.

  They stuck me into one interrogation room and Jerry into another. I thought I was in the same one Delving had been in, judging by the smell.

  I was surprised when a doctor came in to have a look at me. He had me remove my trousers, and applied fresh bandages to both wounds.

  ‘You’ve been mistreating this leg,’ he said.

  ‘Not deliberately,’ I said. ‘How’s my friend? Did you look at him?’

  ‘The big guy? He tore a stitch or two. I fixed him up.’

  ‘I’m surprised Hargrove let you do that.’

  ‘Oh,’ the doctor said, as I slid my pants back on gingerly, ‘he wants the both of you nice and healthy.’

  ‘So he can put us away.’

  ‘He really doesn’t like you very much,’ the doctor said. ‘He says he thinks he has you this time.’

  ‘For getting shot at?’

  The doctor shrugged and left.

  When Hargrove finally came in two hours later, he was alone. He sat across from me, opened a notebook and asked, ‘What happened?’

  ‘That’s it?’ I asked. ‘No gloating? No threats?’

  ‘I need a statement,’ he said. ‘That’s what I want right now.’

  ‘All right,’ I said, and told him exactly what had happened since we left him earlier, in the company of his partner, Holliday.

  When I was done, he closed his notebook.

  ‘I’ll have this typed up,’ he said, standing.