Chet put three rounds into me dead center mass, nicking my wrist and hand. My momentum carried me, him, and our weapons into the room wall. We rebounded to the floor with him under me. I was a couple seconds from passing out when I put an Uzi burst through his head, pitching over to my back, where grainy gray filmy tendrils of unconsciousness flitted in front of my eyes as I gasped for breath. I tried to push shift to my side, and get the hell up, but a hand pushed me down.
“It’s done, Rick! Stay there. Are you hit anywhere else but the vest?”
I recognized Lo’s voice. “Hell… I don’t know.”
The familiar cackle was music to my ears. “I have to let Sam and Skipper loose. They’re breathing, but I think Chet was getting ready to collect some debt. Breathe! I’ll be right back.”
I did as I was told, arms and legs spread. I considered undoing the vest, but when I moved, it felt like someone stuck a red hot poker under my rib cage. I heard Trish and Sam as if from far away. Then Sam crouched next to me. My vision had cleared a bit. He looked pretty good.
“Rick! Do…do you want me to help you sit up?”
“Nope. Leave me… for a few moments.”
He took my hand in both of his gently. “Thank you.”
Trish came into view then, arms folded over chest, a wry smile spreading across her smartass mouth. “Hooterville… good news… we get to cash in the ticket on Chet. I think I should get the money though. I set him up for you and the Gorgon.”
That statement set off the familiar cackle. Lo moved into view next to Trish. “Say something, Peeper.”
“Plastics.” I grinned as Lo laughed her ass off at the one word movie declaration from ‘The Graduate’. Trish and Sam had no clue what the hell she thought was so funny, but that’s why Lo and I are partners.
* * *
I was at the bar with Lo and Frank, new ice cream coat and all, sipping Bushmill’s in a comfortable silence. I had played ‘Casablanca Rick’ for the past hour and a half without gunfire. The kids and movie stars were singing songs at the piano with Don and Vince taking turns at the keys. Even Stacy was singing in harmony next to Bone’s bass voice. It was like one of those old World War II scenes. Our resident Godfather, Cheech Garibaldi had loved my scene so much from Wednesday night, he signed my cellmate Don to play a similar part in the movie sequel of ‘In the Beginning’.
I watched this live scene with great appreciation. “This is nice.”
“We better get some food in you before you fall on your face, you old rummy,” Lo replied. “Hey… look here. That’s our police officer newbie from long ago walking our way in the slinky red dress. Want me to intercept her, or are you still coherent?”
“I’m good.”
“Hello, Rick,” Officer Meg Gavin greeted me. “I didn’t get to see you last ‘Casablanca Friday’ because of the gun battle. I talked to Lois and Frank though. She remembered me.”
I shook her hand, as did Lo and Frank. “I’m glad you could come again this Friday, Meg. How do you like it here on Fridays?”
“I love it. I’m thinking of a lifestyle change. Any chance of an opening at your P.I. office for a retiring cop?”
“I believe we could make room for a former LEO,” Lo said. “Why are you leaving the force?”
Meg’s face turned grim. “I’m sick of the border crap, and getting blamed for everything we do, including trying not to get killed by drug runners, cartel hit-men, and illegal aliens. If Rick is any illustration, at least you folks get to shoot back.”
“Sounds good to me. What do you think, Rick?”
I shrugged. “Meg and Trish hit it off, and we’re busy as hell.”
“You’re in then,” Lo said, handing Meg her card. “Let us know when you’d like to start, Meg.”
“I sure will. Thank you. Nice seeing all of you.” Meg walked away.
“Isn’t that the police officer you two saved years ago?”
“Sure is, Hon,” Lo answered. “At least it’s not a Cantelli ex.”
* * *
“Hi Ben,” Lois put her arms around the shoulders of Ben Simmons as he sat at his desk, and kissed his cheek. “Rick and I have been trying like hell to get free of work to see you.”
Ben gripped her arms to him. He’d stayed relatively thin, his hair still buzz-cut, and his face lined with worry and age… and pain. “Lo! It’s so good of you to come by. I heard you two were back in the mix.”
He released Lois, and shook my hand with both his. “Are all the damn stories true about you two old coots?”
“Hi Ben.”
“I’m afraid most of them are,” Lo answered. “We brought you a present. I’m sure you’ve heard Largos Abiola is missing from the operation Rick and I did for the company, while we were finding out about that traitorous bitch, Carrie Andros.”
“Yeah, I did,” Ben replied with a deep breath. “It’s a damn shame you missed him. Maybe next time.”
Lois took out her iPod, and headphones. “Listen to this, Ben.”
Ben put on the headphones, and Lois started the iPod. A shocked expression flashed across his face, followed by a tight grin. Tears dripped down his cheeks, and then he chuckled. He brushed off the tears.
Lois put the small plastic bag full of teeth in Ben’s hand. “Besides the recording to help you sleep Ben, we brought these mementos of our time with Largos home for you. We thought they might be something you could glance at on a rainy day.”
He looked up, making no move to stop the iPod. “Thank you.”
Lo kissed him on the forehead. “You’re welcome.”
Yep. Some gifts really do keep giving.
The End
Thank you for purchasing and reading Rick Cantelli, P.I. Book III: Into the Darkness. If you enjoyed the novel, please take a moment and leave a review. Your consideration would be much appreciated. Please visit my Amazon Author’s Page or my page at RJ Parker Publishing Inc if you would like to preview any of my other novels. Thanks again for your support.
Bernard Lee DeLeo
Rick Cantelli, PI: Into the Darkness (Rick Cantelli, P.I. Detectives Book 3) Page 31
