Dirty Hitman

by Vivian Connelly

  “Can I use your phone, Abraham? I should call my girlfriend, I’m sure she’s just sick worried about me right now.”

  “Help yourself, little lady. Phone’s in the kitchen.”

  I thanked him and stepped over the cat who was apparently now my new best friend and I headed to the kitchen. I knew Jill would be worried. I figured everyone at the hospital had been wondering where I had gone, and more than anything I wanted to put her mind at ease. I picked up his phone and dialed her cell and she answered before the second full ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey girl, how are you?”

  “Jesus Christ, Jackie. Where in the hell are you? The police have been all over the hospital talking to staff from the other night. We weren’t sure where you were because no one’s heard from you.”

  “Jill, whatever you do you need to promise me you don’t tell anyone you’ve heard from me. I’m only calling you because I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “What? Can’t tell anyone I’ve heard from you? What the hell is that, Jackie? Are you in trouble?”

  “Listen, I can’t really talk about it, Jill. I left with someone the other night and he’s in trouble and…”

  “He? Who’d you leave here with, Jackie? The cops have been all over this place asking about the guy with the gunshot wound. Apparently that wasn’t just any guy. They keep saying he was some kind of dirty hitman or something…”

  “He not dirty!”

  It was a stronger reaction than I had been planning to give her, but it tumbled out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop it and it had surprised us both. All conversation on the other end of the phone ceased while my BFF started putting pieces together.

  “Jacqueline Wilson, what have you gotten yourself mixed up with?”

  I took a deep breath as I felt a cat rubbing up against my leg. There was so much I wanted to tell her. I knew I should keep it brief and I knew I should protect her and not tell her anything. But I was excited and I needed to tell someone.

  So I told Jill everything. Every last detail.

  “Oh my God, Jackie. He did what to Martin?”

  “Martin was starting to push me and yelling about not signing the divorce papers. Micky got involved and beat him up a little. Just enough to force him to sign.”

  “I like this guy already. And tell me the part about the motel again?”

  “There were men, Jill. They kicked in the door…”

  “That’s not the part I’m talking about, Jackie.”

  “Look Jill, I don’t want to get into it again. Suffice it to say that he’s really sweet and I’m trying to help him figure out this mess.”

  “Uh huh…”

  “And when he does then he’s leaving the city. Probably going to go live in the Maldives or Mexico or some kind of place.”

  “Uh huh…”

  “And then I’ll be back at the hospital.”

  “The police have been asking about this guy, Jackie. Sooner or later they’re going to figure out you’re with him and you’re going to get yourself into trouble. Why don’t you just call the police now and get it over with? If the hospital finds out you’ll lose your job.”

  “I’m not going to do that to him, Jill. Besides, he said the police would still have a hard time protecting me from the men that are after us. I just need to give him a little while longer. I trust him, Jill, he’ll take care of it.”

  “Uh huh. Doesn’t sound like your life’s all that boring any more, Jackie. And if this guy has done anything for you, he got that asshole of an ex-husband out of your life.”

  “He’s sweet, Jill.”

  “Yeah I know, you keep saying that. Too bad it doesn’t sound like I’ll ever get to meet him.”

  I heard footsteps behind me as Abraham approached me silently, without saying a word.

  “OK sweetie, I gotta go. Don’t say a word to anyone, OK?”

  “You got it, Jackie.”

  I heard the other end of the line go dead and I hung up the phone. And then I felt his hand on my shoulder.

  Chapter 22

  Micky

  The Riverside Pier—it was every bit as sketchy as it sounded, and to me it sounded bad. I hadn’t been all that surprised that it was the place that Jimmy had wanted me to go. It was the kind of place we had done business for years, and now I just needed to make sure it wasn’t going to be the place where it all ended for me.

  As much as I had balked at Jimmy on the phone I knew the pier was the perfect place. A good place to kill someone, yes, because there was rarely anyone hanging around and the people who did wouldn’t ask any questions. But it also had buildings, plenty of little shanty type buildings that littered the end of the wharf. And that’s where I was now, lying on my belly on the roof of a building at the end of the line.

  It was the perfect vantage point. I could see everything clearly from where I was, which meant I could see the entrance of the pier and any car that came along. I also had eyes on the guy who was directly underneath where I was. He was a homeless guy, about my height and weight, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and carrying an empty briefcase. He had a nice crisp one hundred dollar bill in his pocket, and if everything went as I hoped I planned on making it two.

  I saw the car before it even got to the entrance to the pier. It was driving slow and parked outside the fence and I watched as the two men got out. The fact that they had parked so far away told me they hadn’t been planning to drive me anyway. And the fact that one of the two men was Sammy told me this is how they had wanted it to end.

  The two of them fell into step and moved closer to the buildings as they walked to the back of the pier. The homeless guy with the Hawaiian shirt was just on the edge of the building, visible to anyone who was looking for him but still close enough to be discreet. Sammy and his goon started weaving buildings now, being careful to not be visible to the guy holding the briefcase.

  But they were still plenty visible to me.

  They were getting closer now and I was getting a better look at Sammy’s goon. It was Franky Germano. He had a pistol in his right hand, and Sammy was starting to shift over to Franky’s left shoulder. Franky was going to be the shooter, which wasn’t all that surprising. I always fucking hated that guy, and God knew he didn’t like me. But it wasn’t going to happen today.

  They were twenty feet away now, sneaking around the blind side of the little shanty. Neither one of them either bothering looking up. I must have told those fucking idiots a hundred times to always look above you. Never trust a low roof, I told them, or one day it was going to cost you. Neither one of them bothered to look up.

  Looks like today was that day.

  The homeless guy was perfectly still, looking out over the water and holding the briefcase exactly as I had told him. Franky was ten feet away when the arm with the gun started to twitch, and that was all the warning I needed to jump from the low hanging roof. My boot landed on the tender joint of forearm meeting elbow and Franky’s yell carried across the water. His face registered both pain and surprise in a single chaotic moment but I didn’t give either emotion time to sink in as I hit him as hard as I could with a savage right hook.

  Franky went down, probably not unconscious yet, but close enough for me. His gun had skipped across the gravel of the pier and wasn’t close enough for me to grab. Sammy’s face was both hatred and fury but he wasn’t moving fast enough. He had been content to let Franky do the shooting, and as he reached in his coat pocket I bum rushed him with full force.

  “You fucking fuck!”

  Obscenities flew from Sammy’s mouth because he knew I had gotten the drop on him. His right hand had reached the gun in his jacket but that was his fighting hand, and now it was trapped. I landed two straight jabs with my left fist and watched him spin back on his feet but I stayed on top of him because he refused to go down. Somehow, he still managed to pull the gun from his holster but I connected with a right hook and the gun dropped to the ground.

  “You f
uck!”

  Fury, hate, and a whole lot of adrenaline was keeping him on his feet. He couldn’t reach for the gun because he knew he was getting kicked in the face, but I saw the glint of steel and I realized he had a knife. Fucking Sammy, just because the guy had a scar he figured he better carry a knife, although now he was swinging it and I was taking a step back.

  “That’s right, Micky, come here and let me carve your liver up for you, you fuck.”

  He lunged with the knife twice. I ducked the first swing easily but the second took me off guard and he managed to graze my shoulder. I felt the sharp steel slice through Abraham’s Jerry Garcia shirt and cut open my skin and I immediately felt the warm wet feeling of fresh blood. Sammy was smiling, and he took a step closer. But when he took his third swing, he left himself open wide.

  He swung with the full weight of his body, like a batter trying to hit the ball out of the park. He had gotten over confident from getting me on the shoulder and he left himself too exposed when he threw that third swing of the knife. I hit him with two more left jabs and landed a right hand and his knees buckled as the knife fell to the ground. I threw another right into his gut just to make it difficult for him to breathe and I watched as he curled on the ground.

  I checked on Franky first. The guy who was getting ready to pop me a few minutes ago was still stirring. A little. I gave him a boot to the face and made sure he would leave us along for the next few minutes and I went and retrieved his gun. Sammy’s gun was on the ground but he hadn’t been the gunman and I knew his piece would be dirty. I was certain that Franky’s pistol had a full clip in it and was probably cleaned sometime early that day.

  The homeless guy was still standing there watching us. His expression was one of boredom, like he had just watched a rerun of Gilligan’s Island instead of watching three guys fight to the death. I gave him another hundred dollar bill and got my Hawaiian shirt back before shaking his hand and seeing him off.

  Just me and Sammy now, two old friends about to share some special words. He was still gasping and groaning on the ground. I had a loaded pistol and was soon sitting on his chest.

  “You’re as fucking dumb as the day is long, you know that, Sammy? You hate me that much that you had to kill me, you stupid fuck? Or was this about the money? Is that it Sammy? Were you doing this all for the money?”

  The hatred was still in his face, although now it was twisted up with the expression of pain. It was a good look for him, and I was going to savor it before I killed him. But there was something else there too.

  “What are you fucking talking about, Micky?”

  I knew what it was now. It was confusion. I had knocked him senseless. I brought the barrel of the gun up under his chin to help clear his head up a little.

  “I’m asking you why you have a hard-on for killing me, you stupid fuck. You don’t have to tell me though. They’re your last words, so you better make them count.”

  The hatred never left his eyes, even with a loaded gun pressed under his chin. I had to respect the guy, but it wasn’t going to keep me from killing him. And then he laughed.

  “Jesus Christ, Micky, you are fucking dumber than shit.”

  More laughter. It didn’t stop even when I pulled back the hammer of the gun.

  “You fucking college guys, you’re all the same, you know that? You come into this business thinking you know everything about everything and you don’t know shit, you know that, Micky? You think you’re so fucking smart but you don’t have the street sense that God gave a common pick pocket.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about, Sammy?”

  “You think I’ve been trying to kill you because of some personal beef of mine, Micky? How fucking dumb are you? You think I care if you go skipping off to live on an island somewhere? I could give two fucks. If you think this is about me, you’re the one who is as dumb as the day is long.”

  “What are you saying, Sammy?”

  I pressed the gun further into his throat. One pull of the trigger and his brains would be in the harbor.

  “This isn’t about me, Micky, you dumb shit. I’m just a fucking trigger man—you should know that better than anyone. I don’t freelance, I’m just following orders.”

  I had heard enough. I had the pistol against his throat with my finger on the trigger and the only regret I had was I wouldn’t be killing him with my bare hands.

  Chapter 23

  Micky

  Stupid. Fucking stupid, stupid, stupid.

  I should have seen it. I should have known it all along. I knew that something was fucked up. I had smelled a rat but sometimes the rat was right under your nose and you refused to see it. It took Sammy the fucking Scar to point it out to me.

  Insult added to injury…

  I was doing my best to get the hell back to Abraham’s house and obey the speed limit at the same time. The last thing I needed was to be pulled over now. Abraham’s car was an old Volkswagen Bus that had pot-smoking hippy written all over it. I needed to get back to his house. I needed to make sure Jackie was safe. And then I could go and talk to Big Poppa and set all this shit straight.

  I slowed down to take a hard right hand turn while keeping my hands on ten o’clock and two o’clock. I put on the turn signal and looked both ways before turning. All was clear and I put my foot on the accelerator and the Volkswagen Bus speeded up and I went through my options.

  I looked in the passenger seat. I had an empty briefcase and my newly acquired thirty-eight revolver. I didn’t like guns. I was one of the few guys in my line of work that didn’t. When I did away with a bad guy I preferred to do it with my hands. It kept my senses sharp and it rarely left evidence. But I knew the way this was likely going I needed the insurance that only a bullet could provide, so I would hold onto the gun for as long as I needed it and then ditch it on my way out of dodge.

  I made my last left hand turn and saw Abraham’s house halfway down the block. I could feel my heart rate returning to normal. I was getting closer to Jackie. I was closer to grabbing her and going to see the one guy that would make this all go away. I pulled the Bus into the driveway and I headed up the stairs.

  Only it didn’t look right…

  I could see it right away. The front door was left ajar. Abraham was a hippy but he wasn’t a fool. He wouldn’t have left the door cracked open under the best of circumstances, and he knew the circumstances were far from ideal. I pushed the door open and stepped my way inside.

  I gave a quick scan of the downstairs. The coffee table was turned over in the living room. The lamp in the corner of the room was smashed. Somebody was fighting in here and Abraham wasn’t a fighter. I opened my mouth to call out to him before seeing a leg in the kitchen. The adrenaline was starting to flow again and I made it to where he was lying in two seconds flat.

  “Micky…”

  He was speaking, that was a good sign, and right now a good sign was the best I could ask for. Somebody fucked him up. He was bloody and his left arm was at an angle that it was never meant to see. I didn’t see any gunshot wounds but I still wasn’t convinced they weren’t there. I dropped to my knees to talk to him because I was certain whatever he had to say was going to be said weakly.

  “Dude, what happened?”

  I felt something touch my arm and I nearly jumped out of my skin before realizing a cat was brushing up against me and purring. If the cat could only talk…

  “It was that old roommate of yours, man…”

  He was talking through a mouth that had been beaten. I promised myself I was going to find the guy that did that and show him what a shot to the mouth really felt like.

  “Big Poppa’s kid, Micky. He showed up here with two guys. I thought he was cool and I tried talking to him but he went absolutely batshit crazy.”

  I could see the blood on him and I suddenly realized there was a chance he was going to lose consciousness. But he kept talking, and I knew the part I didn’t want to hear was coming.

  “I didn
’t tell him about the money, Micky. They beat the fuck out of me but I didn’t say anything about the money. I don’t think that’s what they came for, though. They wanted to get Jackie.”

  I put my hand on his arm.

  “I’m going to get you to a hospital, man. I’ll be right back.”

  I needed to go through the house just because it was the thing you did. I knew I wasn’t going to find anything. I knew Jackie wasn’t there. But I grabbed the gun and I started checking the rooms—dining room, living room, basement—and then I headed up the stairs. I went into the master bedroom and then I saw it. Fucking assholes always end up leaving one, I knew I would find it somewhere.

  There was a note lying right on the center of Abraham’s bed. They took their time when they wrote it, which meant they had already beaten my friend bloody and they had already had Jackie. She might have been watching them. She would have been terrified. No dimples, probably tears. I picked up the note.

  Hi Micky,

  I can see why you like this little nurse of yours, man. She’s got a great ass. I would hate to see anything happen to her. I’m going to keep an eye on her until you and I have a chance to talk. I know you took care of Sammy, but that’s OK, I didn’t need him anyway. Come to the Harborside Marina at midnight, Micky. If I don’t see you, you don’t see her again. And make sure you have the money.

  Jimmy

  Chapter 24

  Micky

  Fucking Harborside Marina at midnight. Jimmy had a flair for the dramatic. I had known that as long as I had known him, but I had never known him to be a double crossing scumbag.

  But I guess that people can change.

  I pulled into the Marina parking lot and let the headlights of the Beetle cut across the parking lot. I could see a sedan at the far side, at least a hundred meters from the buildings in the front of the lot. It made sense; it was what I would have done too. He was parked far away where I couldn’t ambush him. Sammy should have been so smart.