This jerkwad actually thinks he’s turning into a Dutch elm! Nikko Nikolin thought. Is he nuts?
Nikko loved the Jerry Springer Show. He probably watched it too much, but hey, the guests were so weird they made him feel normal.
What wasn’t normal was that Milan had not returned from Maccabee Singh’s apartment. He’d been gone for over an hour and hadn’t phoned in. Milan always phoned in.
I better go check things out.
Minutes later, as he approached the Singh apartment building, he saw the flashing lights of an ambulance and two cop cars. He relaxed, realizing Milan had nailed her and was probably lying low until the cops left.
The apartment building entrance opened and attendants rolled out a gurney with a covered body. Mission accomplished! As the gurney bounced down the steps, an arm flopped out.
A thick, muscular arm tattooed with a Slovakian flag!
Milan! Dead!
Jesus! This is in-fucking-credible!
Nikko felt like he’d been whacked upside the head. He must be hallucinating. He leaned against a street pole and sucked air into his lungs.
Milan dead! No way this could happen! Milan was a pro. Always delivered. For seven years, time after time, he’d delivered dead bodies like the US Mail delivered junk mail. Nikko couldn’t believe it.
More EMS people walked inside. Maybe Milan killed her. Maybe a second gurney would roll out.
He hurried over to the ambulance attendant, a fat blond guy with silver ear studs and a nasty harelip.
“My sister lives here. Any more bodies up there?”
“No. Just this man. That your sister over there?” The attendant pointed at a police car. Nikko turned and saw Maccabee Singh in the back seat talking with a cop and another guy wearing a suit.
She’s alive! Simon Bennett would go ape-shit! Nikko walked into a nearby alley, flipped open his cell phone and dialed Bennett’s private number.
“I told you not to call this number!”
“Milan’s dead and Maccabee’s alive!”
Bennett cursed for several seconds.
“Where is she?”
“Here.”
“Handle her. Fast!” The line went dead.