by Tonia Brown
“I’m sure he does,” Banjo said.
“Banjo, man, you can’t do this to me,” Maloney said. “Haven’t I always paid you good? Haven’t I always done right by you?”
“Maybe. You have to admit, though, her perks are much better than yours.”
Knowing he couldn’t compete with that, a conquered look overcame the mobster. “Shit.”
“Mr. Maloney, consider this my resignation.”
Banjo slipped the gun into safety mode, then reared back and punched Maloney in the face with the butt of the Colt. Maloney reeled for a moment, blood spurting from his nose as he swayed in small circles before he finally fell backwards into a stupor. Wallace stepped forward, his hands out demanding the return of his weapon. Banjo wasn’t interested in making a deal with the Feds.
****
Otto couldn’t believe the turn of events. One moment he was at death’s door, and now… well to be truthful, he wasn’t sure what was going on.
“Good work,” Frank said. “Give me the gun and we can—”
“Get back,” Banjo said, turning the gun on the agent.
“You won’t shoot me,” Frank said.
“I wouldn’t want to, but you know I will do what I have to in order to protect my client. Now step back.”
Frank did as Banjo demanded. “Okay, you’re in charge. What now?”
“Don’t try that negotiation crap with me.” Banjo waved the gun at Penny. “Untie her.”
In a flash, Frank ripped away the cords that kept Penny in place.
Penny stood from the chair, pausing a moment to give the agent a hug. “Thanks. I hope you send that piece of shit up for life.”
“Me too,” Frank said.
“What about me?” Otto said.
“Sorry,” Banjo said. “I can only take on one client at a time.”
Otto supposed he understood the logic of that.
“Not to mention three’s a crowd,” Walter said.
“I know,” Otto said.
“Sorry, darlin’,” Penny said. She stooped over Otto, softly kissing his forehead. “I’ll never forget you, hon.”
“I’ll never forget you either,” Otto said. “You changed my life.”
“Naw. I just brought a little sunshine into it for a while.”
“Among other things,” Walter said.
“You keep looking for love,” Penny said. “I promise you’ll find it.”
“It’ll be easy now I know what I’m looking for,” Otto said.
Penny looked over her shoulder at Banjo. “Sometimes it’s closer than you think.”
Banjo furrowed his brow in confusion, then grinned wide as if a sudden pleasant truth settled on him.
“Really?” Walter said. “He didn’t know?”
“Shut up, Walter,” Otto said.
Penny picked up the velvet and plastic bags, carefully slipping the ashes back into the sack. She placed Walter’s remains in Otto’s lap. “I wish I could stick around to say goodbye.”
“Tell her I don’t need goodbyes,” Walter said. “I’ve had a lifetime of goodbyes. I only want hellos from now on.”
Otto shared Walter’s unusual burst of wisdom.
“Well then,” Penny said. “Say hello for me when the time comes.”
“I will,” Otto said.
Banjo handed the gun to Penny. She aimed it at Frank as calmly as Banjo had done. Seeing her armed and in her element forced Otto to admit that perhaps he really didn’t know her so well after all. It was best that she found her heart with someone closer to it. Meanwhile, Banjo dug around in his pockets until he found a pen and paper, then began scratching out a few quick notes.
“What do you think is going to happen now?” Frank said, “I can’t just let you guys walk out of here. I’d have my ass and my job handed to me.”
“Not if you give them this,” Banjo said. He held out the scrap of paper to the agent.
Frank stared warily at it.
“Trust me,” Banjo said. “You’re gonna want it.”
“What is it?” Frank said.
“The password to Maloney’s computers, and the combos to his safes and his security system.”
“Instead of wasting hours trying to crack his codes,” Penny said, “you could be inside in a matter of seconds.”
“You’re kidding,” Frank said.
“Would I kid you?” Banjo said. “I’ve always said it pays to be considered a trustworthy man.”
The agent reached out to snatch the scrap of paper, and Banjo pulled it away at the last moment.
“You have to give us a week head start,” Banjo said.
“Two days,” Frank said.
“Five.”
“Three.”
“Four and six hours.”
Frank grinned. “Done. I will do what I can to slow things down, but I can’t guarantee it.”
“That will have to be good enough.”
Banjo held out the paper for Frank again just as a loud banging came from the door.
“Police! Open up!”
“That’s our cue,” Banjo said and shoved the paper at Frank. He pulled Penny to him and the pair headed for the balcony.
“Where will you go?” Otto said.
“Somewhere they can’t find us,” Penny said.
“Will I ever see you again?”
“Anything is possible, hon.”
Banjo climbed over the railing, then reached back to lift Penny off of her feet. He cradled the woman to him in the silver moonlight. “Are you ready for this?”
“I’ve been waiting a long time for this, hon.” Penny pressed her mouth to his just as Banjo pushed off the balcony.
The pair dropped out of sight.
Otto held his breath for what seemed like an eternity, until he heard a soft splash.
Behind him, the door burst open and the room filled with shouting men.
“Boss?” Larry shouted. “Where’d they go?”
Frank ran to the edge of the platform and leaned over the railing. “Son of a bitch. They hit the pool. That man has the luck of the devil!”
Still bound to the chair, with all of the excitement rushing around him, Otto smiled at the thought of the pair getting away. Maybe they could find a happily ever after with each other. After all, everyone deserved someone to love.
No matter who.
Chapter Twenty Four
Arsenic and Old Lace
A few hours later
Otto stood on the bow of the ship and stared out across the rushing waves. Somewhere behind him, the city of Nassau awoke, readying for another beautiful day. The ship reached dock a few hours before, and with it came the time of confessions, incarcerations, and cleaning up. For Otto, one duty stood out before all of the others.
Finster barked at his feet, a signal that someone approached them, slowly, taking care not to spook Otto more than he already was.
“Hey boy,” Frank said, rubbing Finster between the ears.
The schnauzer yipped and wagged his rump.
“He’s met so many new people,” Otto said. “I think he’s finally getting used to being handled so much.”
“He’s a good dog. I have a lab back at home.”
“I hear labs are great.”
“Keekee’s almost ten. We love her.”
Frank settled in beside Otto, staring out at the water with him.
“Did you get your ashes back?” Frank said.
“Yes, sir,” Otto said and nodded to the velvet bag in his hands.
“I’m sorry the boys in forensics got grabby.”
“Not to worry. All’s well that ends well and that sort of thing.” He winced as he rubbed his raw wrist.
“First time being tied up?”
“Yes, and hopefully last.”
Frank smirked.
“Did you get the other two?” Otto said.
“Maloney’s thugs?” Frank said. “Yeah, we got them and a security officer that was also on the take. Every single one of them ar
e already singing like birds. This should be an easy trial. Maloney wasn’t a likable man. It just took the right push to knock over his regime. And I owe that push to you.”
“Not at all.”
“I want to thank you again for what you did. It was very brave. I don’t know what inspired the whole food fight idea. Still, it seemed to work out.”
“Well, it wasn’t really my idea.”
“Was it your Uncle Walter’s idea?”
Otto gasped and glanced to the nearly translucent spirit. “Um, well …”
“Seems like everyone figured you out, pervert,” Walter said.
“It’s okay,” Frank said. “I don’t think you’re crazy. You think you’re the only man who has seen the dead walking around? I’ve seen my share of strange stuff in my day.”
“Trust me,” Otto said. “Nothing is stranger than Walter.”
“Hey now,” Walter said. “I may be fading fast but I’m still strong enough to make you regret that.”
“I’m sure you made him proud,” Frank said. “Not everyone gets to watch over their relatives in such a time of need.”
“True,” Otto said. “I guess I’m pretty lucky, all things considered.”
“I was the lucky one,” Walter said.
“What happened to Banjo and Penny?” Otto said. “I mean, how did they get off the ship like that? I’ve never seen something so dramatic.”
“Son of a gun had an emergency boat primed, packed and ready to roll. He knew Maloney’s balcony extended over the main pool, so all he had to do was grab his little lady and jump. My guess is he either planned this from the get go or he had a strong itch for a quick getaway from that boss of his.”
“That itch certainly paid off. Lucky man to end up with such a beautiful woman.”
Frank shrugged. “We will probably catch up with them eventually. Though to tell the truth, I kind of hope they get away. Banjo isn’t as bad as all that and Miss Lane is a nice girl when you get past her poor career choice.”
“She sure is.”
“Besides, I’m out of the loop after this. I’m up for retirement.”
“I bet you’re pretty pleased.”
“I’m glad it’s over. That’s all.”
Otto nodded and glanced down to the velvet sack in his hand. “Can I have a moment alone with him?”
“Sure,” Frank said, and patted Otto’s shoulder. “Take all the time you need. We will be on the dock when you’re ready to give your statements.” Frank left Otto alone on the bow of the ship, to do what so desperately needed to be done.
“It’s time, boy,” Walter said.
“I know,” Otto said.
Finster whined.
“Sorry, buddy,” Walter said. “We both know hell ain’t gonna wait forever on me.”
Finster laid on his belly and lowered his head to the deck, whimpering at what was to come.
“You won’t go to hell,” Otto said.
“You don’t think so?” Walter said.
“No.” Otto wiped at his wet cheek. “The Devil won’t want the competition.”
Walter chuckled and wheezed, his double opened throat expressing his good humor as best he could. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”
“It was. I can honestly say it was. Scary. Dangerous. Sexy. And also fun. Thanks for making me do this.”
Walter held his hands up. “Wasn’t me. You did this on your own.”
“I did this because you asked me to. I would’ve done anything for you, Walter. I really would have.”
“I know.” Walter frowned. “And you did. That is what I will always regret.”
“What do you mean?”
“You lived a lonely life because I made you so paranoid of others. And when you finally let yourself love, you wound up with the short end of the stick because you couldn’t distinguish genuine affection from smooth talk. Twice. All of that was my fault.”
“Walter, don’t think for one—”
“Eightball, I’m dead, not dumb. I kept you from your own happiness. That sexpot was right. It’s out there for you, Otto. I think you will finally find it once I’m out of your hair. Speaking of which...”
“Right.” Otto opened the velvet sack and pulled out the plastic bag. He popped the seal on the bag, and held it over the railing.
“One more thing,” Walter said.
“Yes?”
“When you get back to your place, check your daddy’s urn. There should be a key for a safety deposit box at the First National.”
“The bank?”
“Yeah. Inside you will find what I wasted my whole life collecting. All seven hundred and fifty thousand of it.”
Otto paled. “Seven hundred and … oh my.”
“Yup, there would’ve been more, but raising a kid is expensive work.”
“You… you said you never kept a bank account. That banks were criminal institutions.”
“And I stand by that.” Walter’s mouth curved into a soft, translucent grin. “Besides, the box is in your name, son. It always was.”
“Oh.” Otto nodded his understanding.
“Don’t spend it all in one place, eh?”
“I’ll try not to.”
“Okay, give it a go.”
“Goodbye, Uncle—”
“Nope. I told you how I feel about goodbyes.”
Otto turned the bag over, letting Walter’s remains tumble forth in a shower of gray yesteryears, regrets, lost loves and bygone days. Somewhere in there wafted joy and happiness, even if Walter claimed such things were a waste of money and time. And somewhere in those ashes drifted the love of a man for a child that wasn’t his responsibility, yet he somehow still managed to raise as if the kid were his own son.
“Hello, Eightball,” Walter said as he gradually faded.
“Hello, Walter,” Otto said.
Just as the sun reached through the spirit, cleaning away the last trace of the man that was Walter Waldorf, a soft breeze whispered a final and calm truth in Otto’s ears. Otto smiled widely, basking in Walter’s last words.
Finster barked and pawed at Otto’s leg.
“I heard him,” Otto said as he picked up the dog. “Of course his last word would be about money. The son of a bitch always knew what to do with a dollar.”
Otto knew exactly what he would do with those same dollars, now that they belonged to him.
Chapter Twenty Five
Design for Living
Two years later
Otto stepped into the mortuary, sad to be there yet glad to get in out of the cold. He stomped the snow from his feet and shook the chill from his bones. The mortuary owner gave Otto a moment to get warm, then led him down the quiet halls and to the workroom far at the back
“I have to admit,” Mr. Blackwood said as he unlocked the room, “I don’t think I like this.”
Otto clutched his bag to him and nodded. “I understand, Mr. Blackwood. If someone came into my shop like this, I would feel the same way. I apologize for any inconvenience.”
“No need. If this is what he wanted, then he’ll get it.” Mr. Blackwood opened the door and reached in to turn on the light. He leaned back and stared at Otto. “His wife was real adamant about calling you up.”
“She’s a lovely woman.”
“She sure is. I hope losing him doesn’t do her in as well.” Mr. Blackwood stepped into the room, motioning for Otto to follow him.
The workroom was pretty much like Otto’s own back in Stockton. Clean, brightly lit, quiet. Two tables stood at the back of the room, one empty, the other holding a corpse covered in a clean white sheet. Otto frowned, regretting his upcoming duties.
“I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” Mr. Blackwood said.
“I have some idea, yes,” Otto said. He grinned.
Mr. Blackwood did not. “Everything’s pretty much where you think it would be. If you have trouble finding anything, you can reach me on my cell. You’ve got the number, right?”
“Yes, sir.” O
tto sat his bag on the empty table and slipped out of his jacket.
“Okay then.” Mr. Blackwood stood in the doorway, staring at Otto. “You were pretty close to him?”
“We shared an… unusual friendship.” Otto unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves.
“Must’ve been for such a strange last request.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard stranger.”
Mr. Blackwood smiled for the first time since he met Otto at the door. “You got that right. Take your time, Mr. Waldorf. The funeral isn’t until noon tomorrow. I hate to leave you on your own but I really can’t stay. Just lock up when you’re done. Can you find your way back to the hotel?”
“I believe so. Thanks.”
The mortician lingered in the doorway, glancing back into the room once more as he frowned at the shape of the body under the sheet. “Take care of him. He was a good man.”
“I know.”
Mr. Blackwood closed the door, leaving Otto to his lonely work.
Otto looked to the body again, and drew a sharp breath. He stepped up to the embalming table and slid the sheet aside.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
Agent Frank Wallace didn’t answer. He remained as quiet and peaceful as a corpse could get. Otto steeled himself and set to work, readying the corpse for tomorrow’s funeral, as Frank himself requested. As he washed and prepared the body, Otto tried to push aside his own sorrow at Frank’s death and focus on his work. There would be plenty of time for tears tomorrow. Today was for honoring and respect by means of what Otto did best. Today was a chance to pay Frank back for offering his life in exchange for Otto’s.
A few hours later, when the embalming process was about done, Otto heard a noise in the hallway. The door behind him opened with a soft squeak.
“I am almost done here,” Otto said. “I’ll be out of your hair in about a half an hour, Mr. Blackwood.”
“Mr. Waldorf?”
Otto nearly jumped out of his skin at the familiar voice. He whipped about in place, clutching an aneurysm hook like a weapon. Sure enough, Mr. Banjo stood in the doorway behind him.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Banjo said.
