Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand)

Twenty-five

Yeah, I knew what I was doing could get me into a lot of trouble, but I also had to think about Sammy, and the poor driver, Thomas, who had no idea what he was getting into when he took that Luger out of his glove compartment. I remembered what Jerry said about nothing good coming from telling cops the truth. In this case he might’ve been right on the money.

After Thomas left to take Sammy to the Sands, Jerry and I had another drink.

“Thanks, Mr. G.”

“For what? Gettin’ you into this mess?”

“When the shootin’ started you threw yerself on me,” he said. “You coulda took a bullet for me. I won’t forget that.”

“I plead temporary insanity.”

“I’m also real sorry.”

“For what?”

“For lettin’ those three bums get the jump on me when I thought I had the jump on them.”

“Everybody makes mistakes, Jerry,” I said. “I’ve made some big ones in the last few days, and I’m gettin’ ready to make some more.”

“Mr. G., this is all we can do,” Jerry said. “The cops in this town don’t like you and me. That one guy-Hargrove? He’s bad news.”

Hargrove was the detective Jerry and I had tangled with twice last year. Explaining all of this to him wouldn’t be easy.

“The only way we’re gonna stay out of trouble-and out of jail-is to get rid of these bodies.”

I couldn’t believe I was sitting in my living room with three dead guys on my floor, calmly talking about getting rid of them. I was wondering what was going to happen to me when it all sunk in.

“Okay,” I said, with a heavy sigh, “where do we take them?”

“I don’t know this burg like you do,” he said. “City dump?”

“Too much of a cliche,” I said. “Plus, somebody might stumble across them.”

“Okay, so how about a junkyard?” he asked.

“Same problem.”

“A lake?”

“That’s a possibility, but …”

“Okay, whatayou suggest?”

“I do have an idea,” I said, “but it’s a little bit off the wall.”

“What?”

“That warehouse.”

“The one we found the other guy in?”

“Yeah,” I said. “What if these guys killed him?”

“Then it would be, whatayacallit,” he said, “ironical?”

“Yeah, it would be.”

Jerry thought it over, nodding.

“The place is abandoned, might be a long time before they’re found, and we can stage it so it looks like they all shot each other.”

“That would be ironic,” I said.

“It might not stand up to cops lookin’ into it,” Jerry said, “but by that time maybe we’ll be done. You’ll be back at work and I’ll be back in New York.”

I looked down at the three corpses. They had all bled into my rug. Damn.

“Yeah,” Jerry said, “we’re gonna have to clean your carpet.”