by Mike Monson
Matt got a pillow. He climbed on top of Herman and put his knees on his chest. As Matt put the pillow over the wrecked face, the man’s good right eye widened and bugged out. He struggled and kicked.
Matt put one hand on top of the other where he thought Herman’s nose and mouth were located. He pressed down as hard as he could.
For a very long time, Matt kept pressing down as Herman struggled. At first, Herman tried to speak. Matt nearly pulled up the pillow to see what he was trying to say, but, instead, he just pushed down harder.
Herman stopped moving at the same time he lost control of his bladder and his bowels. Matt jumped up off the corpse to avoid the flying pee and the runny feces spreading out underneath the body.
He needed something to carry the chips. Thought it should be something of his. Saw one of the couple’s room keys on the bar. Went to his room and got the bags his clothes came in. Changed into the last of his new clothes. Came back and put the chips on the table. Counted as he threw the chips in one of the bags. The total: twenty six thousand and nine hundred and fifty dollars.
He took a hand towel and cleaned every surface in the room whether he thought he had touched it or not.
He sat at the table and poured himself a big glass of Jack and drank it down. No effect. Nothing. Like drinking water. He felt even more sober, if that was possible.
Now what?
Simple. Check out as normal in the morning. Cash in the chips. Get his car and drive as far away as possible. Find a place to dispose of the gun.
He didn’t know where to go, but he knew he had enough money to go wherever he wanted. No more gambling. He’d finally won his jackpot. He could walk away a winner. Maybe he’d phase out the drinking too. Slowly, of course.
Shit, he had more than 40K. Maybe he better sell the car in the morning at one of those auto pawn places that were all over. Make it harder to find him in case he became a suspect in killing Janet and Herman. He could pay cash for a Greyhound to wherever the fuck. Florida? Chicago? Washington State? He should probably go somewhere crowded, he guessed. He didn’t know really, he’d never killed and robbed before. He was new at this shit.
He wiped everything down one last time. He hid the gun in the waistband at his back and went to his room.
Chapter 20
At about the time Matt entered Herman and Janet’s room, Hunter, Tanner, and Lydia pulled up to the Peppermill.
Halfway there, Lydia crashed from the meth and fell into a deep sleep. She woke up in Truckee, when Hunter stopped for gas. When Tanner also left the truck to go to the restroom, she made a quick phone call to Matt. Again, she had to leave a message. She hoped he’d get it in time.
Hunter didn’t let the valets take the Silverado.
“We’re surprising a friend,” Hunter said. He slipped a valet a ten. “Could we drive around the parking structure and see if we see his car so we know he made it?”
The man nodded, and Hunter drove slowly through the multi-level lot.
“We can’t risk calling for him at the desk in case they got some bullshit privacy policy,” Hunter said. “We don’t want them calling or in any way letting him know we are here.”
“I’m telling you Hunter,” Lydia said. “This trip is a waste of time. He doesn’t have any money left. By now, he’s taken off and is halfway back to Modesto.”
Tanner was the first to spot Matt’s car.
“Look.” He pointed. “He’s still here!”
“Cool,” Hunter said. He parked two spaces over. “Let’s go find him.”
“How’re we going to do that?” Tanner said. “What if he’s just sitting in his room? I looked at their website, there’s like a couple of wings, two towers, about 1500 rooms. The place is huge.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve all got phones. We’ll spread out on the casino floor. Cover the restaurants, bars. All the games. He’ll appear. You know the dude isn’t going to be in the gym or the pool or some shit.”
Chapter 21
Back in his room, Matt decided he better not wait around. What if Herman and Janet were found before the maid came in the morning? What if they had friends or family expecting them tonight? What if someone saw him going in and out of their room? Plus, Lydia for sure knew where he was now and might come up snooping around.
No, he better get out and far away from Reno and the Tuscany Tower and the Peppermill Resort, as soon as possible.
He counted exactly twelve thousand six hundred and fourteen dollars of the dead couple’s cash, for Lydia. Thought for a moment and then added three hundred for what he had taken from the checking account that morning. Took the now empty envelope from the bank and stuffed the money inside. Found a pen in the desk drawer and wrote “Lydia” on the front. He’d figure out a way to get it to her.
He took the bag of chips downstairs to the cashier station. Watched the cashier count his bounty, impressed at his quickness.
“I need to see some identification sir,” he said. His name tag said James. “Either a driver’s license or your Passport Rewards Club Card.”
Matt hesitated.
“Why?”
“It’s required for our records for any cash-out this high.”
Matt decided it didn’t matter. They already had his name and ID for the room. As he was pulling out his wallet, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“There you are, honey,” Lydia said. “I’ve been looking all over for you. This place is so confusing, isn’t it?”
Matt looked at his wife. He didn’t feel at all surprised to see her standing next to him. He was shocked at how glad he felt to see the bitch, at how much he missed her. She didn’t look good. No make-up, deep lines around bloodshot eyes, clearly exhausted. Kind of cute, actually.
“Go on, give the man your ID so we can get your cash and get up to the room,” she said. She leaned over and kissed his neck. That felt weird.
She whispered, “Seriously, man, we need to get up to your room now. Hunter Manning is here too, looking for you.”
“Fuck,” he said. He handed over the ID, and James entered the information into his computer. Matt watched Lydia stare at the cash James handed to Matt.
“Follow me,” he said.
“Okay, lead the way, Sweetheart.” . She hooked her right arm under Matt’s left, snuggled close, and let him pull her toward the elevators to the Tuscany Tower. Matt knew the way, finally.
Lydia kept looking back over her shoulder until they got into the elevator.
“You seem to be having some luck for a change,” she said, kissing him on the lips. “It looks good on you. I like your new clothes and your haircut. Very nice.
“I’ve had a pretty good run, but I was just leaving.”
“But why is your throat all bruised?”
“You don’t want to know.”
He led Lydia into his suite.
“Oh. My. God. What the fuck is this?”
She quickly explored the rooms.
“It’s a Tuscany Villa Suite. Nice, huh?”
“Hell yes, it’s nice.”
Matt grabbed the envelope with Lydia’s money and threw it on the table.
“That’s for you. The initial twelve thousand six hundred, plus the three I took from the checking account this morning.”
Lydia picked up the envelope and looked inside. Saw her name on the front.
“Wow, I can’t believe you had this all ready for me.”
Lydia was crying.
“I really do have to leave,” Matt said. He grabbed Herman’s pistol from a drawer and put it into his waistband at the small of his back.
“Jesus Christ,” Lydia said. She put the envelope in her purse. “Why do you have that? What have you been up to here, dude?”
“Believe me. You do not want to know. And not like a joking ’you do not want to know.’ I’m serious, you really don’t want to know.”
Lydia hugged Matt tight. He pictured Herman and Janet. Now, he started to cry.
“You aren’t comin
g home?”
He stared at Lydia. She actually seemed to care. He didn’t get it.
“I can’t.”
Matt pulled away from Lydia. He put all the money from his pockets and his wallet into a plastic bag. He grabbed all the still-full bottles of liquor and placed them in another bag. They rattled so he grabbed some hand towels from the bathroom and wrapped each bottle to muffle the sound.
“Matt,” she said, unusually softly, gently. “Hunter is downstairs somewhere with Tanner.”
“Tanner? Really?”
“Yeah, unfortunately for me, he’s finally found the father he’s always needed, and it’s a fucking sociopath.”
“I could’ve told you that. Shit.”
“I know. Now. God, do I ever.”
“And Hunter’s here for my money?”
“I’m afraid so. Sorry, honey. So, really, if you’re going to go, take me.”
Okay, so that explained why she was being so nice.
Fine.
“We … shit,” Matt said. “Where are they?”
“I was assigned the cashier stand, which Hunter thought was the most unlikely place for you—wrong. Hunter’s watching the casino floor and all the bars. Since Tanner isn’t 21, he’s keeping an eye on all the restaurants and the exits. They both seem pretty lost though.”
“Do you think we can get to my car? I don’t even know where it is.”
“I do. Let’s go.”
“But, shit. The valets have my key.”
“Don’t worry,” Lydia said, kissing Matt again. “I brought mine.”
In the elevator Matt clutched his bags. Lydia hung onto Matt. Tight. He still couldn’t get used to her new affection.
Usually, a handful of people were waiting for the elevators on the casino floor. When Lydia and Matt came out, there was no one.
Whispering, Lydia said, “Let’s try to get out by the front desk, no one is looking there.”
They made it through the lobby. They found the stairs to the parking structure that Lydia had just come down. No one was following.
Matt opened the passenger door of the Mercedes for Lydia. She stopped and kissed him before getting into the car. It was a long, romantic kiss, the first for Matt from Lydia in a long time. He went around and opened up the trunk. He put the bags down and was grabbing a bottle for the road when Hunter popped up from behind the next car over. He grabbed the gun out of Matt’s waistband.
“Nice gun, dumbshit,” Hunter said. “I thought I’d find the two of you back here.”
He pushed Matt on his back into the trunk and kept the gun on his face. “Whatchya got here?”
He looked in the money bag.
“This is a nice surprise.”
He put the bag down on the pavement next to him. Looked in the other bag. At first, when he saw it was just booze, he set it back down. Then, he reached back in and pulled out two of the towels. He wrapped the towels around the end of the pistol. Put the barrel behind Matt’s ear with his right hand and then closed the trunk as far as he could with his left. He fired. In spite of the towels, the two shots echoed loudly. He lifted the trunk up to make sure Matt’s head was blown apart as he intended.
Lydia was out of the car by now. She looked at Hunter. She clutched her purse.
“You see he had a gun?”
“So?”
“He kidnapped me. I swear, Hunter. Really.”
“Shut up.”
He pushed past her and looked into the glove compartment. Found Matt’s phone and the battery. Assembled the phone and turned it on. He kept his eyes on Lydia, who was shivering and crying.
He played the messages. Erased the first one from Lydia. Listened to the beginnings of another five, all from the previous night, all her yelling at Matt to come home and bring the money. Then, there was one from that that afternoon. She was whispering.
“Matt, sweetie. I hope you get this. As soon as you hear this message, get the fuck out of Reno. Hunter wants whatever money he can get from you, and your car. He’s already had a guy killed that one of his friends thought was you. I am so sorry. This is all my fault. Please just leave. I only hate you a little okay?”
Hunter dropped the phone. He smashed it with his foot. He reached out his hand.
“Give me your purse, cunt.”
She clutched it tighter.
“Why? That was the only gun.”
Hunter reached his hand out farther and took a step toward her. He raised his eyebrows.
Lydia handed him the purse. He put the gun on top of the cloth convertible top and searched through the bag. He found the envelope of money.
“Just as I thought.” He put the envelope in the plastic bag. Lydia stood, shaking.
Hunter grabbed Lydia by her hair and dragged her back to the trunk. Lydia struggled weakly for a moment and then went limp.
“When I’m done with you, they’ll find your dead body along with your husband’s in the trunk. I like that. It works, it works real well.”
He grabbed Lydia hard by the front of her shirt, picked her up off the pavement, and jammed her on top of Matt’s body. Took two of Matt’s towels and wrapped them around his fists.
“This won’t be like with the tire guy.” He smiled broadly.
As Lydia screamed, he leaned over and punched her again and again in the face. Broke her nose. Shattered the bones in both cheeks. Smelled the shit and urine leave her body. Straightened up to look down and study his work. He laughed. He leaned down and used both hands to break her windpipe. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tanner grab the gun off of the top of the car.
“Nephew,” Hunter said.
Tanner was crying.
“Uncle.”
Hunter turned toward Tanner and took a step. Tanner did not hesitate. He shot Hunter in the chest. Hunter was forced back several feet by the blast from the powerful gun and then fell on his back. Sobbing now, Tanner walked over to Hunter and shot him in the face. Hunter was still. Tanner took the Silverado keys out of Hunter’s pants pocket.
Tanner went to the trunk and looked in at his mother. She was dead. He stared into her open eyes. He stopped crying. Looked inside the bag and saw all the money. Closed the trunk lid. Holding the gun and the money, he turned to walk to the Silverado.
“Hold it there kid,” he heard a man shout.
Tanner turned toward the stairway. Three policemen were crouched and pointing their guns at him.
“Put down the gun,” one of them shouted.
Eager for battle, Tanner lifted Herman’s pistol to fire. All three cops shot at once. Only one of the bullets hit him. It barely grazed his left forearm. Just like in a fight, everything seemed to slow down. He got off two shots at the closest policeman, both in the chest. As that man went down, he quickly shot the other one in the throat and he went down too. Turned to shoot the third cop, but a fourth one came out of nowhere, from Tanner’s blind side.
This man was a better shot than his colleagues, and his bullet pierced Tanner’s heart. Tanner fell, and then it was quiet for a moment until the sirens got close.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mike Monson
Mike Monson wanted to be a writer all his life. He tried many times but was never happy with the result. Finally, in 2012, at 56-years-old, he got the urge again. Feeling like he had nothing to lose, he began writing with free abandon, and over the next 12 months had written 23 stories 17 of which were published online and in print anthologies. His work appeared in Literary Orphans, Shotgun Honey, Flash Fiction Offensive, Yellow Mama, All Due Respect, and in print anthologies from Gutter Books, Near to the Knuckle, and All Due Respect.
In the Summer of 2013, he collected his work into the book Criminal Love and Other Stories. This self-published collection of mostly crime and noir fiction is available on Amazon Kindle. It’s been consistently among the top sellers in the Crime/Noir category, as well as among the top fifteen highest-rated Noir ebooks.
His crime novella The Scent of New Death will be publi
shed sometime in 2014 by Gutter Books. He is the Associate Editor of All Due Respect.
He worked as a paralegal in San Francisco, and Modesto, California for twenty years while raising two children. In May of 2013 he moved to Kona, Hawaii, where he continues to write.
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