Stiffed by Rob Kitchin Page A

them in your bed!’
    ‘What exactly do you know about Marino and Junior, Sally?’ I ask, sensing that she doesn’t really understand who they are.
    ‘Annabelle mentioned something about a kidnap. I assume they’re your hostages?’
    Oh boy.   Annabelle probably meant Redneck.
    ‘We need to go,’ Paavo says, starting to get agitated.     
    Sally looks quizzically between the three of us.
    ‘I really think it would be for the best if you went home, Sally.  This whole thing is fucked up.  You need to stay out of it.  You’ve got kids.’
    ‘I’ve got two little shits who take after their idiot father.’ 
    Well, I guess things are not so hot on the home front.
    ‘We’ve been through this already,’ Sally continues, ‘whatever the hell is going on, I’m part of it.  I’m not going to be able to live with myself if something happens to Annabelle and I did nothing to help.’
    I let out a deep sigh.  This is hopeless.  There’s no point maintaining t he pretence that we can keep this morning’s events secret.  The main thing now is to rescue Annabelle and try and extricate ourselves from this disaster as best as possible.  I imagine we’re all going to spend some time in prison for something: obstruction of justice, dangerous driving, kidnap, discharge of a lethal weapon, hit and run, attempted murder, fleeing a crime scene.  Who knows what else?   
    ‘Wel l, don’t say we didn’t warn you,’ I say slowly.  ‘Marino and Junior are dead.’
    ‘You killed two people!’ Sally says, her voice rising in pitch.
    Shit.  I knew we should have got rid of her whether she liked it or not.  I must be going soft in the head.
    ‘No,’ Jason says.  ‘We inherited two dead bodies.  Two gangsters.’
    ‘You’v e been driving around with two dead bodies?’
    ‘We’ve been trying to get rid of them,’ I say.  ‘It’s been surprisingly difficult.’
    ‘Especially when you’re not allowed to burn them,’ Jason says.
    ‘Burn them?’ Sally repeats.
    ‘Can we please go ?’ Paavo interjects, glaring at his watch.
    ‘We need a plan,’ I say , ignoring Jason’s jibe.  ‘We’re just running around aimlessly.’
    ‘We’ll get a plan later.  First , we get rid of the van.  Then we find Annabelle.’  With that bombshell of three whole sentences, Paavo climbs out of the basement.
    I guess that’s a plan.  Of sorts.
    ‘You can’t put them in our garage,’ Jason says.  ‘What if my parents find them?’
    ‘That’s a chance we’ll have to take,’ I say, heading after Paavo, still holding the bag of peas to my crotch.  ‘It’s going to be bad enough explaining why the cab roof is full of bullet holes without the police finding two dead bodies in the back.’
    * * *
    It had been nice and toasty in the back of the van and Marino and Junior were starting to reek.  A hint of a kind of sickly sweet smell of rotting meat mixed with diarrhea that catches in the back of the throat like wet tar. 
    To be fair to Sally, she got stuck in and helped us move the bodies.  Not actually doing any lifting or moving, but giving instructions.  Anyone would have thought she’d been appointed foreman.  I hoped she wasn’t getting notions about her role in this malarkey.  Bizarrely, she seemed to think the best way of hiding and preserving the bodies was to pour tins of paint over them.  As I said, she can be kind of dopey sometimes.  Jason vetoed the idea.  He’d be the one cleaning it up.  We definitely need to get rid of them as soon as possible, however; they’re twenty years and a potential death sentence hanging round our necks.
    We ’re now back on the road again: Paavo and myself in the van, Jason and Sally following in her Toyota Sienna.  They’ve been given strict instructions to keep driving if we’re pulled over.  Paavo is taking a back street route, weaving across town. 
    ‘Where are we going?’ I ask Paavo for about the sixth time in two streets.
    This time he