Charlie Hustmyre - House of the Rising Sun

Carlos bent forward, grabbed one of the handles, and rolled the bag closer to him. He looked inside. Then he nodded, as if his practiced eye agreed with Ray’s guess about the amount. Then he looked at Priscilla.

She shook her head. “That’s not Tony’s bag.”

Ray said, “Look at the tag.”

Carlos turned the bag around so he could read the luggage tag tied to one of the D-rings. He looked at Priscilla again. “It’s got his name on it.”

Priscilla looked at Carlos, but jabbed a finger at Ray. “I can’t believe you’re listening to him.”

Carlos said, “He’s got the gun.” His voice was calm, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

She nodded toward the nightstand. “You’ve got a gun, too. Why don’t you use it?”

The Old Man glanced at Ray, giving him a can-you-believe-I’ve-got-to-put-up-with-her look. Ray shrugged, and for a second they were just two guys sharing a little joke. Then Carlos said, “Where’d you get it?”

“That’s not Tony’s bag,” Priscilla repeated. “I’ve never seen that-”

“I’m not going to tell you again.” Carlos raised a finger in front of her face. “Keep your mouth shut.” He nodded at Ray.

“I got it from Tony’s house,” Ray said. “My guess is, that’s the money from the robbery.”

“What were you doing in my house?” Priscilla demanded. Carlos didn’t say anything to her for disobeying his order to keep her mouth shut, didn’t say anything to Ray, just let the question hang.

Ray understood. It was a good question. From the corner of his eye, he saw a chair against the wall near the bathroom door, shaped aluminum tubing and cushions. He pulled it over and sat down. “I went in there to get a gun.” He turned the Smith over in his hand. “This gun.”

Since Priscilla got away with it the last time, she tried it again. “He’s lying. That’s not Tony’s gun.”

Old Man Messina ignored her.

Ray said, “I didn’t say it was his gun. I said it was his bag. He had the gun, and I needed to get it back.” Ray pointed to the bag in Carlos’s lap. “I found that in the bedroom closet.”

“You went in my closet!”

Ray used the. 40 caliber like an extension of his finger, pointing it at Mr. Messina. “You’ve got people in the Eighth District. You’ve got the captain in your pocket. You’re putting his kids through school. You didn’t need me looking for those guys.”

“It was my brother’s idea.”

“I bet if you check, you’ll find out it was really Tony’s idea.”

“Why?”

“To frame me. The money was in his…” he jabbed the Smith at Priscilla, “In her closet.”

Priscilla turned to Carlos. “He admitted breaking into my house. He stole that bag and put the money in it to frame Tony.”

Looking at Carlos, Ray said, “The money was already in the bag.”

“Liar!” She pulled her legs under her and scampered toward him.

Ray pushed the muzzle of the gun toward her and she stopped. “You can’t have it both ways,” he said. “Either you’ve never seen that bag, or I stole it from you to frame your husband. One or the other.”

Carlos shoved her down in the middle of the bed. “Sit down.”

Priscilla covered herself with the comforter.

Messina looked down at the money again, then stared into Ray’s eyes. “You got some balls coming in here the way you did. And I don’t think it was just to tell me a bullshit story.” Carlos pointed to the bag. “Why didn’t you keep it?”

“It’s not mine.”

“You could have run. A lot of guys would have.”

“I thought about it,” Ray said. “But I don’t like running.”

The Old Man nodded.

“The doorman,” Ray said, “a kid named Hector, got caught up in it and Tony killed him. Two of the mopes on the crew, the one who shot your nephew and another guy named Sylvester, turns out I arrested both of them when I was a cop.”

“There were four of them.”

“I didn’t know the other two,” Ray said. “They were hired help.”

Priscilla started to get up. “I’m not listening to this bullshit anymore.”

Carlos held her down. He pointed to the French doors. “You move again, I’ll throw you through that glass door.” She sat back down, arms folded across her chest.

Carlos looked at Ray. “What about my brother?”

That was a subject Ray would rather skirt around. He was sure about Tony, but much less sure about Vinnie. Now was no time for speculation, but he couldn’t avoid the Old Man’s penetrating stare, so he gave the most neutral-and truthful-answer he could. “I don’t know.” It was probably the wrong answer.

Carlos’s face tightened and his lips barely moved as he spoke. “What the fuck do you mean you don’t know?”

“What I’m sure of is that Tony set up the robbery with people he could tie into me. Then he insisted I go after them. All the while he’s planning on putting the whole thing off on me. But as to whether your brother was in on it, that I don’t know.”

Carlos Messina was silent for almost a minute. Ray started sweating. He could smell it on himself. It smelled like fear. His whole life hung in the balance, waiting on the decision of an old man, sitting naked on a bed, his big belly hanging over his crotch. Meanwhile, Priscilla stared daggers at Ray.

Carlos looked down at the money in the bag, then nodded. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch myself.”

Ray didn’t know if he was talking about Tony or Vinnie. He never found out because Priscilla Zello sprang across the bed, right over Carlos’s lap. She stretched out her long body and grabbed the Beretta pistol off the nightstand.

“Crazy bitch,” Carlos yelled as he wrapped his thick arms around her chest, squishing her bare breasts, but not able to stop her.

Ray sprang out of the chair, knocking it over behind him. He stepped to his right, toward the back door-a moving target is harder to hit-as Priscilla one-handed the pistol across the front of her body and fired at him.

Ray saw the flash, a yellow spurt of flame bursting from the muzzle, but adrenaline had diminished his sound perception, so he heard only a dull pop. Priscilla lay on her right side, sprawled on top of Carlos, who still had both arms locked around her and was trying to toss her off the bed. The Old Man had probably thrown her aim off just enough to save Ray’s life. Only six feet away, he didn’t expect her to miss again. With the Smith amp; Wesson thrust out in front of him, Ray yelled, “Drop the gun!”

Priscilla arched her back like a wrestler, pushing Carlos into the headboard. He held on to her with one arm and reached his other hand out, trying to grab the Beretta, but she moved it away from him like they were playing a game of keep-away.

Ray sidestepped all the way to the door. He yelled again, “Drop the gun!”

Priscilla rammed an elbow into Carlos’s gut. He grunted as his breath exploded through his lips. He dropped his hands. Priscilla rolled up onto her knees in front of Carlos, then leaned forward, bracing herself with one hand on the bed. She stretched the gun toward Ray.

Ray aimed the Smith. 40 and squeezed twice on the trigger-BOOM! BOOM! As far as he could tell the first shot missed, and the second whizzed under her hanging breasts and hit her in the thigh.

The Beretta flashed as Priscilla fired again. Ray heard the bullet THUNK against the wall behind him. He started pulling the trigger again-BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The first shot caught her in the neck and lifted her onto her knees. The second one hit her low in the stomach, just above her dark patch of pubic hair. The third one missed and dug out a chunk of drywall just above the headboard. Priscilla fell back on top of Carlos, her eyes rolling up as one hand fell over the edge of the bed. Ray heard the Beretta clunk to the floor.