| |
He was one of the ones who’d sat at the table with Caras that morning, the one Caras had called Georgie. His topcoat was cashmere, he had the hard, cold look of a trigger man, and he hadn’t come empty handed.
“Lose your pieces.” He waggled the .45 he held to make his point.
“He doesn’t have any quarrel with us, and we don’t have any with him,” I said to Tabby.
Nodding, she put her gun on the floor and used her toe to nudge it out of gap-toothed Arnold’s reach. He slid back on his elbows, looking nervously at the man who’d entered.
“You followed me.” I was irritated at myself for failing to spot him.
“Followed Arnold. Since he and his friend came in the front way, I figured it might be smart to come in the back.”
Like most of Caras’ men, he was probably half of a pair.
“Where’s your pal?”
“Outside in the car. This won’t take long.” His eyes flicked to Tremain, who was now unconscious. “That the man you were hunting?”
“Yes. And he needs a doctor fast.”
“Like you told the other dame, I’ve got no quarrel with you. As soon as I take care of some business here, I’ll be on my way.”
The trouble was, I had a feeling I might not like how he planned to take care of that business. He was ignoring the fact that instead of putting my gun down I’d merely lowered it to my side, but he’d noticed. Taking two steps into the room, he gave Scott the once-over.
“He the one who helped Benning get out of town, Arnold?”
“The-the guy who had the business downstairs?” Arnold nodded in full-blown panic.
“I didn’t help him. I just paid him to close up shop and let me use this building,” Scott said irritably. He got to his feet. “Who are you, anyway?”
“Where is he?”
“Benning? I have no idea.”
“I’m not going to ask you again.”
“He doesn’t know,” I said.
“Shut up. Nico was right, you need to learn manners. Last chance, pal.”
“I don’t—”
Georgie squeezed the trigger. Frank Scott screamed and fell to the floor clutching his knee.
“Where?”
“Idon’tknowIdon’tknow! Knew he owed somebody money. Oh, God, my knee! I needed a place. An empty building. That’s all. I don’t know where Benning went! I just paid him to-to go.”
Georgie’s arm raised languidly.
“Don’t,” I said.
“Nico wants it like this.”
I wanted Frank Scott alive. I wanted him to suffer like he’d made Gil Tremain suffer. I wanted the cops to wring every last detail of what he’d done out of him in case Tremain didn’t make it.
“Killing him’s not going to find Benning.”
“It sends a message.”
An emptiness came into his eyes. I knew what it signaled. I pulled the trigger.
He fell back with an awkwardness that looked out of place with his cashmere coat and well-barbered face. After several moments Tabby reached gingerly to slide his gun from his fingers.
All around us the tunnel-like room was silent. Then the mewling sound of held-in whimpers reached my ears. Scott or the thug with the knife in his thigh. I couldn’t tell and didn’t care.
Tabby glanced around and changed the oversized gun in her hand for the smaller snub nose. Rubbing absently at one smudged cheek, she surveyed the scene.
“Four ruffians down and a missing man rescued. Not a bad night’s work for two women, do you think?”
Nervous chatter, because we both recognized how close we’d come to never indulging in any sort of chatter again.
“Two women and a parrot,” I said. “Don’t forget the parrot.”