Hauling Ash

by Tonia Brown

  “No, the point is if I die today, then I will die a satisfied man.”

  “I bet you will.” Walter chuckled at the dirty thought.

  “You know what I mean, you perverted old goat.”

  The pair of them laughed together until each wound down to a tired sigh.

  “My only regret is that my last words to Penny were in anger,” Otto said.

  “Son,” Walter said, “if that’s your only regret, you lived a pretty good life.”

  “That’s as it may be, I still wish I could apologize and tell her how I truly feel.”

  “Then why don’t you?” Walter said. “She’s right behind you.”

  “What do you mean she’s right behind me?”

  “She is right behind you,” Penny said.

  Otto winced at the sound and proximity of her voice. He hissed through clenched teeth. “Why did you let me carry on a conversation with you when you knew she was here all along?”

  “She’s still here,” Penny said. “And she can still hear you.”

  Otto winced again.

  “Sorry, Eightball,” Walter said. “I thought you knew.”

  For lack of anything better to say, Otto said, “Hello again.”

  “Hello again,” Penny said.

  “I hate to seem rude, but if you’re with Maloney, what are you doing here?”

  “You mean why am I all tied up behind you?”

  “Yes.”

  “For opening my big mouth, I suppose. Toney ain’t the kind of guy that appreciates a woman that speaks her mind.” Penny giggled softly. “Speaking of speaking your mind, do you want to tell me who you were talking to for the last five minutes? Or shall I take a few guesses?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “No excuses, big boy. You heard me the first time. You don’t think I will believe you? Then try me. You’d be surprised at what I can swallow.” There came a pause, in which Otto could feel Penny’s warm smile, even if he couldn’t see it. “Then again, I’m sure you wouldn’t be surprised at what I can swallow. Would you? A whole lot of love, I believe you said.”

  “Holy tater tots, boy,” Walter said with a touch of awe in his voice. “No wonder you’re in love with her.”

  “You have no idea,” Otto said, addressing both of them at the same time. He drew a deep breath, considered his choices, and seeing no other option, he told her the truth.

  From beginning to end, he told her almost everything, including how Otto had spent the last five minutes talking to a dead man that no one else could see or hear.

  Penny sat behind Otto in silence for almost a full minute once he was done.

  Otto started to think she had fallen asleep during his story.

  “She’s gonna think you’re crazy,” Walter said. “It never pays to tell a woman the truth.”

  Before Otto could consider taking it all back, Penny cleared her throat.

  “Let me see if I understand you,” she said. “Your dead uncle told you to pick up a suitcase from a bus station, which turned out to be full of Maloney’s money, and now you’re all tied up because you decided to work undercover for the FBI?”

  “It sounds silly when she says it,” Walter said. “Hell, it sounded silly when you said it too.”

  “Yes,” Otto said, agreeing with them both.

  “I see,” Penny said. “And you say your dead uncle, who is a ghost and also a corpse at the same time, is here, right now, talking to you and watching us?”

  “Yes. I know how it sounds but it’s the truth. I swear.”

  “You don’t have to swear it. I believe you.”

  Otto blinked a few times, only because he lacked the ability to stick his finger in his ear and wiggle it about. “Did you just say you believe me?”

  “I did and I do.” Penny brushed the tips her fingers against his bound hands. “Hon, in my line of work it’s easy to pick out the liars, which is usually everyone I meet. In this case, I can’t help trusting a man who makes love so honestly.”

  Otto’s cheeks warmed at the compliment.

  “I also find most folks get real honest at times like this,” she added.

  “She has a point,” Walter said.

  “She does,” Otto said, his warm embarrassment shifting to cold dread.

  “What was that?” Penny said.

  “Sorry,” Otto said, “I was talking to Walter.”

  “Don’t apologize,” she said. “If you think you can talk to your dead uncle, who am I to argue? Besides, you forget my family has worked with the dead for generations. I grew up around a haunted mortuary. You think you got a good ghost story? I have tales that would turn your hair white.”

  Otto reached out and curled his index finger around hers. “I wish I could’ve heard them all.”

  “I wish I could’ve told you.”

  Otto considered her point about honesty and times like this. He decided if he was going to tell her the truth, he might as well go all the way. “Penny?”

  “Yes, Otto?”

  “I’m sorry for what I said, and the way I acted. It was unfair of me to be so judgmental.”

  “Don’t be, hon. I get it all the time.”

  “Not acceptable. You deserve better. I should’ve respected you, regardless of your lifestyle. I apologize.”

  “Apology accepted. And thanks. It means a lot to me.”

  “You believing in Walter means a lot to me.” Otto cleared his throat, then asked, “Would you believe me if I said I … I think I am falling in love with you?”

  “I want to believe you, but we both know it wouldn’t be the truth.”

  “It could be.”

  “No, it couldn’t. Otto, hon, you don’t love me. You don’t even know me.”

  “You know her in the biblical sense,” Walter said.

  “I realize I don’t know every little thing about you,” Otto said. “I could get to know you better. And you could get to know me. Isn’t that what falling in love is all about?”

  “It isn’t that easy,” she said. “If it was, everyone would fall in love.”

  “Everyone could, if they tried.”

  Penny sighed, soft and sweet. “Trust me when I say you don’t love me. You love the idea of me. You love being with someone after being alone for so long.”

  “She’s given that speech before,” Walter said.

  Otto was thinking the same thing. “I take it I’m not the first to declare his undying love for you.”

  Penny fell quiet.

  “Does everyone fall in love with you?” Otto asked. “Or just the lonely losers?”

  “You are not a loser, Otto,” she said. “You’re the most wonderful man I have ever met. I’m the one that is wrong for you. You deserve someone as wonderful as you are. You deserve someone better than a used up whore.”

  Otto gasped at her brash description of herself. “Penny, I told you I don’t care about all of that.”

  “I do.”

  “I don’t know why you two are even arguing about this,” Walter said. “That mobster is gonna kill the both of you, whether you fall in love or not.”

  “Will you stay out of this?” Otto said.

  “What did he say?” Penny said.

  “He said it didn’t matter anyways because we are doomed.”

  “He’s right. Even if we could get out of this, I could never love you because my heart would always be somewhere else. You know?”

  Otto got it then. “You’re already in love.”

  Penny went silent again.

  “I think you’ve guessed it,” Walter said. “She sure is. You should see her face. She looks like she got caught riffling through her daddy’s porno stash.”

  “Must you always be so crude?” Otto said.

  “What did he—” Penny started.

  “You don’t want to know,” Otto said.

  Somewhere to Otto’s left, a door opened and closed.

>   “Miss Penny,” Banjo said. “Are you okay? That’s not tied too tightly, is it?”

  “Why?” Penny said. “You afraid I might lose a little bit of feeling before you get a chance to really hurt me?”

  “Sassy!” Walter said. “I like her.”

  Heavy footsteps crossed the room until Mr. Banjo came into Otto’s view. He sat a battered leather wallet on the bar, lowered a black bag to the floor, and nodded to Otto. “I see you’re awake again.”

  “No thanks to you,” Otto said.

  “Is that so?” Banjo leaned against the bar across from Otto, crossing his arms as he smirked. “Do you know the likelihood of returning to consciousness from a blackout due to a blow to the head is extremely rare?”

  “I wouldn’t know anything about knocking people on the head.”

  “Well, trust me, it is. In fact, it is one of the most overused tropes in modern fiction. Most folks who are hit on the head hard enough to pass out for more than a few seconds usually suffer from a skull fracture or an intracranial bleed, most of which result in a permanent coma or death. Very few victims return from it, which is why I don’t recommend it as a method for incapacitating people you need to interrogate later. Even if they wake up, the chances they will be able to talk at all are slim to none.”

  “If you knew there was a chance I wouldn’t wake up, then why did you hit me?”

  “He didn’t hit you,” Walter said.

  “I didn’t,” Banjo said, as if agreeing with the ghost. “I was going to, but lucky for both of us, you passed out all on your own.”

  “In other words,” Walter said, “you scared yourself into a faint, young lady.”

  Otto huffed. “I’m not going to apologize for it.”

  “I don’t expect you to. Actually, I wanted to apologize to you.”

  “For what?”

  “Everything.”

  “Ah, well that is nice of you. Though to be fair, you haven’t really done anything.”

  Banjo stared blankly at Otto.

  Otto swallowed hard. “Ah. You’re apologizing beforehand, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t usually get the chance. I also wanted to show you something.” Banjo unzipped the black bag and reached inside of it to retrieve whatever terrible thing he had brought for Otto.

  That terrible thing was furry and familiar.

  “I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” Walter said softly.

  “Finster!” Otto cried.

  At the sound of his name, Finster came awake with a start. His little ears cocked back as he scanned the room with sleepy eyes. Once he spotted Otto, Finster leapt from the mobster’s arms, scurried across the floor, and jumped into Otto’s lap. There, he covered Otto’s face with licks and kisses, as if they hadn’t seen one another in years and years.

  “Finster,” Otto said. “Boy, I am so happy to see you. I thought you were done for. Who’s daddy’s boy? Who is daddy’s little boy?”

  Finster yipped, his tail wagging hard enough to set his whole rump swaying.

  Penny giggled.

  Banjo watched on with a soft smile.

  “Why?” Otto asked the man. “Why did you spare him? Why didn’t you do what your master commanded?”

  “Firstly,” Banjo said, “that man isn’t my master. He is just the holder of the purse strings.” Banjo retrieved a small black case from the bag at his feet and unzipped it. “Secondly, I didn’t kill your dog because he has nothing to do with this.” Banjo slipped a plastic tube from the case and held it up to the light.

  “What is that?” Otto asked, though he recognized it right away.

  “A syringe.”

  Otto’s heart fluttered at the word. “Please, don’t hurt Finster. I’ll tell you everything I know. Just leave him alone.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s only a sedative. I give them to Maloney’s dogs because they don’t travel well. An eight hour drive with nervous Dachshunds equals a whole lot of diarrhea in the back seat.” Banjo pulled the cover from the needle and held up the syringe and tapped it. In one clean and quick movement, he stepped forward, injected the dog and stepped away.

  In seconds the dog was softly snoring.

  “Why pick on Finster?” Otto said. “You said he had nothing to do with this.”

  Banjo shrugged. “Because if I don’t hide your dog, Maloney will kill the mutt himself. And we both know Finster won’t go quietly. Don’t we?”

  “Oh.” Otto looked down on the now sleeping dog. “Thanks for taking care of him. You don’t suppose I can have him back after all of this is done?”

  “You know the answer to that.”

  “I suppose I do.”

  Banjo retrieved Finster and put the dog back inside the bag, zipping it up slowly and cautiously, trying not to snag the dog’s fur. He gave the bag a soft pat before he stood again. “I hate you got wrapped up in all of this. You seem like a real nice guy.” Banjo checked his watch. “The boss should be on his way back. He went to check on his mutts before we get started.”

  “Started,” Otto echoed, letting the distasteful word roll around in his dry mouth. The idea of what was to come being so involved that it required an official start made him sick to his stomach.

  Banjo grabbed the back of Otto’s chair and tipped him to one side, turning the chair around until Otto was side by side with Penny.

  Otto glanced to her and smiled. She smiled in return.

  They may not have been in love, but at the very least they were partners in serene acceptance of their joined fate.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Danger-Love at Work

  Banjo stood back, surveying the pair of captives. The mortician looked around nervously, back and forth, tensing against his bonds like a frightened mouse. Miss Penny, however, relaxed against her chair, as unperturbed as one could get while tied to a piece of furniture. Every ounce of her body language said she had been here far too many times before. Banjo retrieved his tool pouch from the bar and the bag from the floor. He carefully sat the bag inside the bathroom, and dropped the tool pouch onto the table in front of the pair.

  “Why don’t you tell me where the money is, Waldorf,” Banjo said. “Maybe I can talk to Maloney and we can resolve all of this without any more fuss.”

  “Why don’t you go to hell?” Penny said.

  “I don’t suppose he told you where it is?”

  “If he did,” Penny said, “why would I tell you?”

  “Because we are friends.”

  “Uh-uh. You don’t have any friends. Remember?”

  Banjo sucked a breath through his teeth. “Touché. I deserved that.”

  “You deserve my fist in your face.” Penny fought against her bonds; the sight of her breasts heaving as she wriggled left Banjo uncomfortable.

  “Please hold still. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

  Miss Penny calmed down, then she raised her face up to Banjo with a long, sorrowful look. “Why are you doing this, Benjamin? This isn’t like you.”

  “This is exactly like me. This is who I am.”

  “No. This is who he made you. I know you’ve hurt people in this game before, but they were always other players. Not regular guys. Not men like him.” Penny tilted her head toward Waldorf.

  Banjo turned away, unable to face her awkward truth. He pulled the tie on his tool pouch, allowing it to unroll across the table. Various metal instruments glinted and sparkled from their leather home; all clean, all well maintained, all proof of Banjo’s careful professionalism. Torturing folks with busted and half ruined tools never made much sense to him. Not that he hadn’t tried. He learned early in his career that pulling a man’s teeth from his slippery, bleeding gums with a pair of rusted pliers was next to impossible. Banjo lifted a well-scrubbed set of nippers and turned them about in the lamplight, like a proud papa admiring his offspring.

  Somewhere behind Banjo, Waldorf whimpered.

  “It doesn’t have to be like this,” Penny said.

  “I told yo
u,” Banjo said over his shoulder. “I have a job to do. And I do it very well.”

  “This isn’t the job you signed on for. Your job is to deal with folks like us, Banjo.”

  The sound of that nickname on her lips burned his ears, scorched his heart and wounded his soul. She always called him Benjamin, because she always saw him as a human being, not the cold killer he truly was at heart. Now she saw him just like everyone else; a bald bull in a suit, ready to maim at the drop of a dollar bill.

  Banjo shook his head as he faced her again. “Not you, Miss Penny. You’re not like him, and you’re nothing like me. You’re special, ma’am. You always were, and you always will be.”

  Penny lost her anger for a moment and smiled at him. Banjo basked in that smile, knowing it would be the last she would ever have for him. Once this was done, and Waldorf was dead, she would never smile for Banjo again. Even if Maloney let her live.

  “I think you’re right,” Waldorf whispered. “Lucky guy.” He turned his attention to his left for a quiet moment, as if listening to someone that wasn’t there. “I said I thought you were right. Geesh. I am agreeing with you. Why do you always have to argue with me?”

  Banjo furrowed his brow, unsure who the man was talking with.

  Waldorf sighed. “I am not going to say anything to them. I am sure they are both well aware of their feelings for one another. Now stop butting in and let me plead for my life in peace.”

  “Who is he talking to?” Banjo said.

  “You don’t want to know,” Penny said.

  “I probably don’t.”

  “How much is he paying you?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. How much is that son of a bitch paying you?”

  “Enough.”

  Penny grinned. “I’ll double it.”

  Banjo almost laughed aloud at that. “You’ll what?”

  “Boy, you need to clean the crap out of your ears because I know you hear me. I asked how much is that asshole paying you, because I will double it. You say you got a job to do? Work for me, Benjamin. I will pay you double what he is, and I can promise the perks are a whole lot better on my team.”

  “I … I can’t do that.”

  “Bullshit. I watched you hide a dog to keep Maloney from hurting it. A dog, Benjamin. I know you don’t want to do this. And don’t give me some speech about honoring your contract with him or whatever. You’ve hated Maloney the day you took your first job with him. I never understood why you stayed with him. I know you don’t need the money, because you’re too smart for that. As many years as you’ve been a hit for hire, I am willing to bet you have more in the bank than Maloney and me combined.”