Matt Royal Mystery - 03 - Blood Island by H. Terrell Griffin Page B

other places in the area, see if she had been seen by anyone else.
    I left money on the bar for the beer and started for the front door.
One of the pool players was blocking my way. It was the big man who'd
locked eyes with me before. His feet were planted firmly on the floor,
spread slightly in the stance a man often assumes when he's about to knock
the crap out of you. He had about four inches and fifty pounds on me.
This wasn't shaping up as one of my better days.
    I walked toward him, thinking he might move out of my way. He
didn't. I stopped about a foot in front of him, and said, "Excuse me."
    He looked mildly surprised. "Who the fuck are you?" His voice was a deep rumble tinged with the accents of the Everglades, southern, but not
quite.

    "Just a guy looking for his family," I said.
    "I don't believe you."
    "I'm sorry, but that's who I am."
    I saw it in his eyes first, before his hands moved. I was a little slow as
the punch came toward my face. I ducked, but not quickly enough. His fist
had been heading for my jaw, but it caught me in the head, just above my
left ear.
    I staggered back on my right foot, stunned slightly from the blow. He
was still in his flat-footed stance, but was shaking his big right paw. My
head was harder than his knuckles, and I thought he'd probably busted
one or two.
    When I was in high school, I was trying to become a punter on the
football team. This seemed to be a safer job than running with the ball and
having bigger boys tackle me. The coach soon decided I was hopeless,
but he tried to teach me the rudiments of kicking.
    "Follow through, Royal," he'd say. "Kick the damn ball to the moon."
    A nanosecond had passed since the big guy swung on me. I took aim
with my right foot and kicked his family jewels to the moon. The coach
would have been proud of my follow through. It raised my attacker onto
his toes.
    A scream escaped the big man's lips, and his face turned blood red,
the pain starting to erode his features. Both hands went to his crotch, bending him forward. I turned 360 degrees, pivoting on my left foot, and
brought the right foot in a soccer-style kick to his left kidney. This straightened him up some, and I ducked my head and butted him in the face.
    As I backed off, I could see blood and mucus flowing from his busted
nose. He fell to the floor moaning, writhing in pain. I started to kick him
again, but as suddenly as it had appeared, the blood lust that had saturated my brain ebbed.
    I stood there, breathing through my mouth. The whole thing had
only taken a couple of seconds. I looked up to see three men coming my
way. One had a pool cue held like a bat. He was lanky with roped muscles running up his arms. His unwashed hair hung to his shoulders. A scar ran
from his nose back to his right ear.

    I pulled the pistol out of my pocket and pointed it at them. "The guy
with the cue will go first."
    They stopped dead in their tracks. They were bullies and weren't
used to someone else having the upper hand. They didn't know what to
do. I thought I'd help them out a little. "Get on the floor, on your stomachs," I said, motioning with the pistol.
    The man with the cue stick dropped it and sank to his knees and
then onto his stomach. The other two followed suit.
    "Who are you guys?" I asked, quietly, putting an edge to my voice.
    The bar was dead silent, the bartender standing still, his hands on the
bar. The two men remaining on their stools sat like statues, not moving, not
even blinking. They wanted no part of this fight.
    The big guy moaned and rolled over on his side. No one spoke.
    "I'm going to shoot you one at a time until somebody talks," I said,
and pointed the pistol at the one who'd brandished the pool cue.
    "Wait," he said. "We didn't mean no harm."
    I laughed. "Okay, do these jerks know who your next of kin is?
Where to send your body?"
    "Don't shoot," he said, his voice shaky, pleading now.
    I aimed the pistol at his head. "What do you know