Victor Gischler - Gun Monkeys

He went stiff, his eyes big. He saw me and the pistol, a bad combination. Freddy looked like his twin brother Eddie, except less dead and more scared.

I said, “Hello, Freddy. I want you to take out your piece nice and slow. Two fingers. Twitch funny, and I make you go bye-bye.”

He nodded, pulled out his gun in slow motion. It was another of those damn cannons like his brother’s.

“What the hell are those?”

“A.410 gauge revolver. Shoots slugs or shot.”

“A bit much, isn’t it?”

He shrugged.

“Put it on the floor.”

He did.

“Now kick it over here.”

He did.

“Thanks.”

I shot him in the kneecap. Poot .

He screamed and went down, blood soaking through his pants. He backed up against the door, squirming on the ground, blubbering and sweating and looking like he was going to vomit any second.

“Calm down, Freddy.”

He wasn’t listening, kept crying and screaming and trying to hold his knee together, the blood oozing between his fingers.

I picked up his gun and put it in the pocket of my robe. Then I poured myself some coffee. I scraped the eggs and bacon onto a plate, grabbed a fork, and had a seat at the kitchen table. Freddy cut down on the blubbering. He watched as I ate bacon, sipped coffee.

“Where’s Eddie and Teddy?” His voice was whimpery.

“They’re not going to help you.”

“Fuck you, man.”

I wiped my mouth with a paper napkin. “I’m not in a very good mood right now, Freddy. Your brothers were going to hook me up to a car battery and shoot electricity through my gonads. I’m not at all pleased with the Minelli boys right now.”

“Tough shit.”

“I want to know what your job was. I want answers, and I’m tired of fucking around.”

“Lick my asshole.”

I set the coffee cup down and picked up the pistol. I shot him in the heel. He yelled again, squeezed his eyes shut tight. He rocked back and forth groaning through his teeth.

“Start talking.”

“You fucking fuck fuck fuck-”

“Freddy!”

“Beggar got tired of waiting for Jeffers to come up with his books, so he told Lloyd to take care of it.”

“Mercury?”

“Yeah. That’s why Stan told you to hit Toppers. Myron made a deal to deliver the books to the Feds.”

“Why?”

“The FBI had Myron on drug trafficking charges, but they said they’d let him off if he helped put Beggar away. It was bad timing for Beggar, because he was right in the middle of taking over Orlando. Beggar wanted the books back quick. He told Stan he’d go easy on him if Stan helped get the books back.”

“What happened?”

“You should know. Stan played us funny, told you to take the books to him instead of Jeffers like you were supposed to. When Beggar got word, he didn’t like it. He decided to drop the hammer on everybody hard before things got more out of hand than they already were.”

I nodded. “That’s a good story. Very informative.”

I finished the eggs, sipped coffee. “What do you mean Beggar got word ? How?

“Somebody told him. The little bald guy.”

“Benny.”

“Yeah.” Freddy didn’t look good. His heel and knee bubbled blood. “All I know is Jeffers is crapping his shorts. And Beggar’s not too happy either.”

“But you don’t know anything more about Stan?”

“No.”

“What about Mercury? He up to anything else I should know about?”

“No.”

“What were you going to do with the books after you got them from me?”

“Take them to Mercury.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s moved his office into the back of Red Sky,” said Freddy.

“The punk dance club downtown?”

“Yeah.”

“What was he going to pay you?”

“Twenty thousand.”

“That’s a lot just to grab a couple of accounting ledgers,” I said.

“He knew we’d have to get them away from you.”

I picked up the phone and took it to Freddy.

“My leg really hurts.”

“That’s a shame,” I said.

“I need a doctor.”

“Later. Right now you’re doing me a favor. You want to be on my good side, right, Freddy?”

“Sure.” He swallowed hard.

“Tell me Mercury’s number.”

“It’s in my pocket.”

“Get it out,” I said. “Slowly.”

He did and read me the number.

I dialed it.

“Yeah?” a voice answered.

“Get Mercury.”

“Who the hell’s this?”

“Minelli.”

“Wait.”

I put my hand over the phone and told Freddy, “Tell him you’re coming over first thing in the morning, early. Tell him to have the money. Fuck this up, and you’ll see Teddy and Eddie again real soon.”

He nodded and took the phone. “Mr. Mercury? Sorry about the hour. Huh? Yeah, we got them. We want to come over in the morning- early. What? In the morning is better. We’re sort of on a schedule.” He shot me the okay sign. “Teddy? He’s gassing up the car. He told me to call you and said you should bring the payment. Okay. Bye.”

He handed me the phone, and I hung it up.

“I fixed you up,” said Freddy.

“Yeah.”

“Just like you wanted,” said Freddy. His voice cracked. He knew he was close to being done. “He’ll meet you down at the club. In the morning. With the money.”

I looked out the kitchen window. Dark.

I lifted the pistol, reminded myself what the Minelli brothers were preparing to do to me.

“I don’t think I’ll ever walk the same.” Freddy pretended not to see the gun, looked at his leg. He was breaking my heart.

“Here,” I said. “I’ll take care of it.”

The pistol bucked in my hand. Freddy’s eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. He fell face first into a pool of his own blood, a hole in the center of his forehead.

I went upstairs and took a shower.

After my shower,I tended my hand, fresh bandages. I needed to be alert, so I couldn’t risk a pain pill. Instead, I swallowed a half-dozen aspirin. I put on jeans, a tan pullover, and fished my navy pea coat out of the closet. I hadn’t bothered with the thermostat, and the house held a deep chill.

I dialed the Hilton and asked for Marcie Kramer’s room.

“Where have you been?” Marcie’s voice blared harsh through the phone. She didn’t sound sleepy at all, more like she’d been awake, waiting.

“I got tied up.”

“I tried to call. It rang like a million times.”

“Sorry.” I must have been zonked on the pain pills. I was just lucky to come around enough to hear the break-in. “Listen, stay put, okay?”

“What about you?”

“I have to clean up some things here.”

We made some goodbye noises at each other and hung up.

I tore the tags out of two sets of sheets and wrapped up the Minelli brothers. The blood started soaking through right away, except for Teddy, because I’d choked him. I cut up a whole box of garbage bags and wrapped the bodies in a second layer in plastic.

I searched the whole house and garage, but couldn’t find any duct tape. I wished vaguely Marcie was there to help with the bodies. She was a good hand.

I put each brother over my shoulder and carried them to the alley one at a time. Freddy’d left the sedan keys in the ignition. I grabbed them, unlocked the trunk, and filled it full of Minelli.

The blood on the kitchen floor was the worst of the mess. I mopped quickly, then threw the mop and bucket in the trunk with the boys. The rest of the mess would keep for later.

My guns were still missing in action, so I gathered up the two.410 cannons the Minellis had carried and educated myself. They were olive-green revolvers with one-inch barrels. Each held six.410 shotgun shells, solid lead slugs. They’d put a good hole in a guy, but really they were pretty stupid guns. Still, I didn’t have any more ammunition for the.32 automatic with the silencer, so I put one of the cannons in each front pocket of the pea coat. They hung heavy, looked suspicious.