Dead Wrong About the Guy

by Frederick Zackel

"The deal's off," I said.

  "What!" Corky cried.

  "What are you--!" Debra cried.

  I cut her off. "I'm fed up with both of you. I'm not going to kill her. She's easily worth more than the two of you combined. You two are dirty dogs, and you ought to be put to sleep. You are weasels ... " My laughter mocked them. "You even fuck like weasels! I've seen you!"

  Debra was outraged. "What are you doing jerking us around like this!"

  Corky was numb. "I don't get it."

  "The hit's off," I told them. "You get a divorce, and she lives. Anything other than that, the both of you end up in an oil drum at the bottom of the deep blue sea."

  A Mustang horn sounded again and again and--

  Debra was shrewish and shrill. "You can't trust these people, Corky! I told you!" she cried. She was outraged and furious. She pulled out her gun and shot at me, completely missing me.

  I shot Debra. Her face exploded, and she was thrown back, already dead.

  Corky was too horrified to move.

  I shifted my gun onto Corky, to keep him from trying anything rash. But Corky was trembling with absolute fear.

  Somebody stood behind and to the right of me, at the edge of the shadows. Having just witnessed me shooting Debra Lawson, and seeing that I now had my gun aimed at Corky Collins, that somebody lifted a deer rifle and shot me.

  I was struck below the left shoulder. As I fell, I spun around and returned fire automatically at whoever had just wounded me. I landed on one knee, but I could still shoot.

  I shot that somebody in the chest. The force of my bullets threw her backwards, falling dead. Blood soaked her blouse. When I saw I had killed Saundra, I was anguished.

  In shock, Corky, seeing both his wife and his mistress struck dead, gave up all hope and sank to the floor.

  I could hear police sirens approaching.

  I struggled to my feet. Time to leave.

  Behind me, Corky was on his knees, in shock and shaking, sobbing.

  I stepped out on the loading docks. With headlights and police flashers flashing, the sheriff's patrol car and two other police units screeched to a halt, surrounding the Mustang. Flea had deserted the Mustang; he was nowhere in sight. The sheriff and two young deputies jumped from their patrol cars, their weapons drawn.

  I saw Ivy racing towards me. She was backlit by police flashers and headlights. Then Ivy ran in front of the patrol cars towards the processing plant's doors. "Mrs. Collins!" she screamed.

  Ivy saw me bloody and with a gun in my hand. Terrified, she came to a sudden stop. She stood between me and the deputies. The deputies couldn't see me.

  Ivy screamed, "Michael!"

  The sheriff saw Ivy confronted by a bloodied gunman. Fearing for her life, he yelled: "Ivy! Get away from there!"

  Two deputies opened fire on me.

  Bullets flew past Ivy.

  I was desperate. I shouted: "Ivy, get down!"

  Ivy screamed and cringed, too panicked to move.

  I took aim and shot Ivy.

  I hit her just below the shoulder. The bullet knocked her feet out from under her, pitching her over.

  Anguished, I watched her drop.

  Sheriff Lawson saw Ivy hit, and fired several times at me. The deputies shot at me.

  I was struck in the right thigh by the first bullet, inches from my groin, then had my right eye socket pierced by the second shoot. The third and fourth shots struck my chest and my left thigh. I fell--

  Sheriff Lawson was already racing to Ivy's side. She was in terrible pain, weeping and wailing, and he cradled her.

  Later the sheriff watched the county ambulance that carried his niece from the Collins' processing plant. Already there were many other deputies present, as well as police support teams. Special night lights were being erected, and traffic was slowing from all the gawkers.

  A deputy approached with a handcuffed Flea. "He wants to turn state's evidence," the deputy said.

  Flea was dejected.

  Sheriff Lawson and the deputy walked through the plant and approached Corky Collins. The man sat on the ground two feet from his wife's outstretched arm and stared blankly at them.

  "Corky Collins? You're under arrest for murder."

  The sheriff snapped handcuffs on Corky Collins.

  "My life is ruined," Corky said.

  The next morning Sheriff Lawson visited his bandaged niece at Maui General Hospital. Ivy was propped up in a bed. She looked drained and puffy, as if crying, though she was not crying now. Her arm was in a sling.

  The sheriff was apologetic and soft-spoken. "He's dead, Ivy."

  "Uncle Walter--"

  "He killed Saundra Collins."

  Ivy was horrified. "Oh God no!"

  "Corky and Debra paid him to kill her. Afterwards they were going to run off together ... He killed Debra, too." He added wryly, "The killers had a falling-out."

  Ivy was heart-broken. "He tried to kill me, too. You saved my life."

  The sheriff found the truth difficult to say. "Honey, he was a professional. His kind don't miss. He gave you your life. He must've loved you very much."

  Ivy wailed her sorrow. Uncle Walter took her in his arms and tried to comfort her. She wept.

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