from getting shot.”
She stared at me awhile and then flipped a wall switch behind the counter. I’d seen her flip that switch before. It automatically locked the front door. Anyone who wanted to come in now would need to hit a buzzer.
She reached under the counter and removed a small Ruger .38 semiautomatic. The grip had some wear but the gun looked like it would shoot just fine.
“It holds six, plus one,” Susie said. “I’ll charge you three-fifty. I could ask for more.”
“You got anything else?”
She looked irritated. “Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it. And a box of fifty rounds.”
I paid cash, which she slipped into a pocket in her jeans. She slid the gun into a soft case and handed it to me. “Happy shooting,” she said. “Or not.”
“Thanks, Susie.”
I turned to go.
“You sure you don’t need a girl?” she said.
I turned back. “I’ve got all I can handle right now.”
She leaned on the counter. “Tell.”
I smiled at her. “Another time.”
* * *
LUCINDA HAD LET HERSELF into my office. When I walked in, she was sitting at the desk, working at the computer.
She’d set my mostly empty bottle of Jim Beam at the edge of the desk to make it conspicuous. She’d also fished through the desk drawers. The Baggie of cocaine was propped against the bottle.
It was an accusation.
I went to the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and took a drink. The Baggie fell to the floor and I left it there.
“You bastard,” she said without looking up from the computer.
I drank again.
She said, “I don’t work with drunks or cokeheads.”
“Good policy.” I took another drink.
She spun from the computer, her eyes full of fire. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Where do I start? I shot a cop because I figured that if I didn’t he’d kill some innocent men. Then the innocent men threw me in jail for three days. For trying to save them, I guess. When they let me out they convinced me to join up with the guys who were shooting at them. Why would anything be wrong?”
She shook her head, disgusted. “Since when did you start feeling sorry for yourself?”
“I’ve always felt sorry for myself!” I said.
She looked at me long. Then she laughed. When she caught her breath, she said, “You’re hysterical.”
I drank. “See? No sympathy.”
She nodded at the bottle. “You keep that up, you’re going to sleep tonight facedown on the floor.”
I thought about that and thought about my evening plans with Earl Johnson’s crew and Chicago’s gangs. I screwed the cap onto the bottle. “You’re probably right.” I dropped the bottle in the trash can.
Lucinda’s eyes were doubtful. “Really?”
I shrugged. “If the cleaning service doesn’t empty the garbage tonight, I’ll probably dig it out tomorrow.”
That seemed enough for Lucinda, or almost. “What about the coke?”
I picked the Baggie off the floor. “You want it?”
She shook her head no.
I dropped it in the garbage on top of the whiskey bottle, though it felt like lighting a fire in front of an exit door.
She sighed. “Now tell me what’s up.”
I filled her in on the meeting I’d agreed to attend and the illegal Ruger I was carrying even though the rules were against bringing guns. When I finished, she glanced at the garbage can like she might need a drink.
“You want me to tail you?” she said.
I shook my head. “Too dangerous. Johnson and his crew are going to be watching. If they see you in the rearview mirror they might get the idea that La Raza or the Latin Kings are making their own plans for the meeting.”
“You going to tell Bill Gubman about this?”
“I wasn’t going to. You think I should?”
“I don’t think you should get in a car with Johnson’s guys and go hang out with gangbangers unless you’ve got backup.”
“Bill would want to do the same thing as you—tail me. I think I’m safer without that.”
She looked unhappy but said, “Okay.”
“What have you
She stared at me awhile and then flipped a wall switch behind the counter. I’d seen her flip that switch before. It automatically locked the front door. Anyone who wanted to come in now would need to hit a buzzer.
She reached under the counter and removed a small Ruger .38 semiautomatic. The grip had some wear but the gun looked like it would shoot just fine.
“It holds six, plus one,” Susie said. “I’ll charge you three-fifty. I could ask for more.”
“You got anything else?”
She looked irritated. “Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it. And a box of fifty rounds.”
I paid cash, which she slipped into a pocket in her jeans. She slid the gun into a soft case and handed it to me. “Happy shooting,” she said. “Or not.”
“Thanks, Susie.”
I turned to go.
“You sure you don’t need a girl?” she said.
I turned back. “I’ve got all I can handle right now.”
She leaned on the counter. “Tell.”
I smiled at her. “Another time.”
* * *
LUCINDA HAD LET HERSELF into my office. When I walked in, she was sitting at the desk, working at the computer.
She’d set my mostly empty bottle of Jim Beam at the edge of the desk to make it conspicuous. She’d also fished through the desk drawers. The Baggie of cocaine was propped against the bottle.
It was an accusation.
I went to the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and took a drink. The Baggie fell to the floor and I left it there.
“You bastard,” she said without looking up from the computer.
I drank again.
She said, “I don’t work with drunks or cokeheads.”
“Good policy.” I took another drink.
She spun from the computer, her eyes full of fire. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Where do I start? I shot a cop because I figured that if I didn’t he’d kill some innocent men. Then the innocent men threw me in jail for three days. For trying to save them, I guess. When they let me out they convinced me to join up with the guys who were shooting at them. Why would anything be wrong?”
She shook her head, disgusted. “Since when did you start feeling sorry for yourself?”
“I’ve always felt sorry for myself!” I said.
She looked at me long. Then she laughed. When she caught her breath, she said, “You’re hysterical.”
I drank. “See? No sympathy.”
She nodded at the bottle. “You keep that up, you’re going to sleep tonight facedown on the floor.”
I thought about that and thought about my evening plans with Earl Johnson’s crew and Chicago’s gangs. I screwed the cap onto the bottle. “You’re probably right.” I dropped the bottle in the trash can.
Lucinda’s eyes were doubtful. “Really?”
I shrugged. “If the cleaning service doesn’t empty the garbage tonight, I’ll probably dig it out tomorrow.”
That seemed enough for Lucinda, or almost. “What about the coke?”
I picked the Baggie off the floor. “You want it?”
She shook her head no.
I dropped it in the garbage on top of the whiskey bottle, though it felt like lighting a fire in front of an exit door.
She sighed. “Now tell me what’s up.”
I filled her in on the meeting I’d agreed to attend and the illegal Ruger I was carrying even though the rules were against bringing guns. When I finished, she glanced at the garbage can like she might need a drink.
“You want me to tail you?” she said.
I shook my head. “Too dangerous. Johnson and his crew are going to be watching. If they see you in the rearview mirror they might get the idea that La Raza or the Latin Kings are making their own plans for the meeting.”
“You going to tell Bill Gubman about this?”
“I wasn’t going to. You think I should?”
“I don’t think you should get in a car with Johnson’s guys and go hang out with gangbangers unless you’ve got backup.”
“Bill would want to do the same thing as you—tail me. I think I’m safer without that.”
She looked unhappy but said, “Okay.”
“What have you
Similar Books
