[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]death, but once I was unarmed and tenderized, they dragged
my carcass to a chair and threw me in it, like a sack of dirty
laundry.
Apparently, this whole time, Tricky Dick was sitting
behind his desk, watching the beat-down, like a bored CEO
waiting for a business meeting to conclude. It was probably a
good thing I hated him before, because I would have really
hated him now. He was sucking on a phallic little stub of a
cigar that smelled like my old jockstrap, and he looked much
the same as always, except he d added a chin since I last
saw him in person.
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112
You d think a guy with all his money could have
afforded better hair plugs. It was always thin, a brittle brown
constantly puffed up unnaturally with product, and at the
best of times it was like a ratty marmoset had died on top of
his scalp. His face was round, matching the roundness of his
body, and no thousand-dollar suit could make him look any
better. He appeared to be Santa s evil, clean-shaven brother.
I always knew you were stupid, he finally said, tapping his
cigar in a marble ashtray that probably cost more than my
first car. But this stupid? How do you not drown when it
rains, boy?
I spit blood on his carpet, and I m pretty sure I saw a
tooth go with it. I want answers, and I knew your peons
weren t gonna tell me shit.
Dick shifted his bulk forward, making his chair creak
like it was quietly screaming. Answers to what? Why you re
such a pathetic fag? I think you hafta blame your parents for
that.
I glared at him through rapidly swelling eyes. If I lived
through this, I was gonna look uglier than a bonobo s butt.
Why have you singled us out?
He smirked. Who s we? You and your toy boys?
Me and Spencer. Why did you have him killed?
He sat back in his chair, chewing on his cigar like a
phallic piece of gum. Wow, you really are that dumb, huh?
Karina.
Oh great, he was going to talk in riddles. Before I could
ask if that was his drag name, I suddenly remembered:
Karina Swenson. She was one of our last clients before
Spencer got killed. She was a hot blonde who wanted us to
help her escape from her boyfriend, the very married and
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very dangerous Mike Big Mike O Malley, head of the Irish
crime syndicate that used to run the docks. (Before he died
mysteriously and Tricky Dick took over the seaport.) She
wanted to leave him, but he was a psycho who wasn t going
to let her simply leave him. So she paid us a good sum to
help her fake her death by dumping her car in the river, and
since bodies had a tendency to be washed away, no one
thought much of it when her body wasn t found. Yeah, it
wasn t legal, but Spencer had kind of a hard-on for her, and
I just felt bad for Karina. Besides, anything I could do to piss
off O Malley was a-okay with me. What about her? She s
dead.
Please. I know that little bitch is far from dead, and I
know you and that piece of shit partner of yours helped her
escape. How big of a cut did she give you?
Cut? I had the sudden, sick feeling that Karina had
sold us a bill of goods.
That little twist stole twenty-five G s from me. How
much did you and your idiot sidekick get out of it? Five,
ten?
She stole money from you? How?
How do you think? She stole my checkbook, wrote
herself a check, and cashed it before running to you twits.
Were you in on it from the beginning?
I shook my head, even though it made the pain worse.
What about Big Mike?
He snorted derisively. A single drop of saliva dripped
from his cigar. What about that stupid mick?
Maybe it was the beating, but I suddenly realized what
had happened. Karina had played us as suckers. She wasn t
Big Mike s mistress she was his. And she took a buttload of
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money on her way out the door. This begged the question
why she didn t tell us the truth, but wasn t it obvious? No
one in their right mind would willfully screw over Tricky
Dick. She played us for chumps all right, and now Spencer
was dead because of it. I was next on the list. He had her
too, you know.
I just said that to annoy him, and it worked. He sat
forward, scowling. No he didn t.
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