Sin City Homicide

42

Stanton froze next to the door. He felt the breeze on his back. A couple of steps backward would take him out of the house. He could easily run down the street and place a call. He looked at Mindi, who was trembling.

“Shut the door please, Jon.”

Stanton didn’t move for a full half minute, and Orson didn’t repeat what he had said. Instead, Stanton lowered his hand near his firearm.

“Jon, please don’t be stupid. If you run, I’m going to shoot her in the head. Then I’ll shoot myself in the shoulder, throw the gun outside somewhere, and say it was you. Forensics will eventually prove me wrong, but I’ll be long gone by then. They’ll arrest you first. You know that. Now please, shut the door and sit down.”

Stanton took a deep breath then closed the door.

“Now lock it.”

He twisted the deadbolt, walked into the living room, and turned to face Orson. He glanced down at his gun then back at Orson.

“Oh, man,” Orson said, “things went bad on this. Real bad. People I didn’t want to get hurt ended up getting hurt.”

“Kill me and let them go, Orson. Tie them up and leave them here and hop on a plane. Go to South America, and they’ll never find you.”

“Yeah, probably. I got a lot to lose here, though. I got a house, a pension, assets. I got power here. How can I go from that to living in some shack in Belize?”

“It’s better than a needle.”

He exhaled loudly. “Man, I should’a killed you in that basement when I had the chance. You have this fucking ability to get into people’s heads, don’t you? That’s probably why Melissa left you. You drove her crazy.”

“Why did you bring me out here, Orson? Was it only to try and blame me for all this?”

“What the fuck do you think I brought you out here for? I couldn’t blame one of my own. But an outsider? Hell, no one would give a shit about some academic from San Diego, especially one with a past like yours.” He laughed. “I told everyone that you’re psychic, Jon. I was bullshitting them, but now… I don’t know. Are you psychic? I mean you’re definitely a freak, but can you actually see things other people can’t?”

Headlights shone into the house as a car pulled up next to the cruiser in the driveway.

“Good, he’s here. Mindi,” Orson said, “unlock the door, please.”

She unlocked the door then hesitated for an instant as she looked outside through the open door. Orson cocked his revolver, and she went back to her spot by the wall.

Bill James entered, wearing an Armani suit with no tie. He looked at Mindi then at the officer on the ground. Then he saw Stanton standing in front of Orson. His eyes drifted to the gun in Stanton’s hand, and he quickly shut the door.

“What the fuck are you doing? You wanna get the fucking death penalty?”

Orson chuckled. “You forget the word ‘we’ pretty quickly, don’t you, Bill?”

“Fuck your ‘we.’ Who told you to rape Emily Steed? You could have shot ’em both when they were getting into their car, and no one would have seen a damn thing.”

Stanton looked at Orson. “How much did he pay you?”

“A lot. But believe it or not, Jon, I went to him.” Orson’s face contorted briefly into a slight sneer on his lips that quickly disappeared. “I fucking loved her, man. I was gonna leave Wendy for her. I ain’t kiddin’. My kids would’a never forgiven me, but I didn’t care. She was the one-the one I wanted to grow old with. When I told her that, you know what she said to me, Jon? She laughed. She just fucking laughed right in my face. She said I wasn’t in her class, that it was fun, but her pool boy was as good a fuck as I was, and she wouldn’t marry her pool boy.” Tears streamed down his face, and he wiped them with the back of his sleeve. He laughed hysterically. “But, man, she got fucked in the end, didn’t she?”

“You stupid son of a bitch,” James said. “You gonna kill three police officers? They will never rest until they find out who did this. Never. They will fly every damn fed out here from Quantico until they find us. You think I wanna look over my shoulder for the rest of my life?”

“You’re wrong about something there, Bill. I’m not gonna kill three cops. I’m gonna kill three cops and a casino owner.”

James didn’t move for a moment. Then, in a motion as quick and smooth as a gunslinger’s, he pulled out his Smith amp; Wesson.40 and pointed it at Orson’s head. “Put the fucking gun down.”

A voice bellowed from behind them. “Both you cocksuckers put ’em down.”

Alma Parr stood at the entrance to the kitchen. He was leaning on a cane, and his waist looked crooked, as though he’d been twisted on purpose. However, he held his firearm straight, and the barrel was pointed at the back of James’s head.

As Orson glared at Parr, Stanton quickly stepped back and pulled out his firearm. He fell into the Weaver stance, fixing his weapon firmly on Orson’s chest.

Orson laughed. “You gotta be shittin’ me.” He called out to Mindi, “Hey, honey, you got a gun, too? Maybe you can join us.”

James glanced from Parr to Stanton. “This isn’t a good situation,” he said nervously. “This has the potential to go real bad real fast unless we all calm down and take a breath.”

“Take all the breaths you want,” Parr said, “I ain’t movin’ this fucking gun.”

Stanton said, “There’s no need for anyone else to die. Orson, it’s over. Drop your weapon.”

“No fucking way.”

“You killed innocent people. It’s gone too far. You have to go down.”

“Innocent?” he said incredulously. “Daniel Steed threw poor people out on the street just to make a few extra bucks. His wife fucked everything with a dick, whether it was married or not. How the fuck are they innocent?”

“What about Freddy Steed? You had him burned to death for nothing.”

“No, not nothing. I wanted Emily to feel what it was like to get your heart broken. Don’t matter, though. He was a piece’a shit Nazi. A fucking Nazi, Jon. Are you really trying to make me feel bad for taking him down?”

“He was a kid. He was barely old enough to drink. He deserved a chance to make his life straight.”

He scoffed. “You know, I am so sick of your bullshit. You really think there’s a God? Huh? And he cares about us and makes sure we’re doin’ okay and gives us our bottles at night and tucks us in? I had Freddy Steed burned for fifteen hundred bucks. Fifteen hundred dollars, Jon. That’s what it cost to snuff out a life. Where was your God then? He wasn’t powerful enough to put out those flames.”

“It’s not like that. We have agency, Orson. We get to choose. We choose who we are. I know you. I know that this isn’t you. You can choose something different. Put your gun down. Turn yourself in. It’s the only way.”

Orson, fresh tears streaming down his face, sat up straight. He took a few breaths. “You believe in the devil, too, Jon? I don’t mean a force of evil or anything like that. I mean an actual fucking devil who whispers in your ear and tries to get you to do bad things?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ll tell him hello for you.”

“Orson, no!”

Orson lifted the weapon to fire at Stanton. James fired first, followed by the loud pop of Parr firing before Stanton got off two rounds, hitting Orson in the chest. James took a hit to the back of the head and collapsed. Orson fell against the couch, twisted around, and fired three rounds at Parr, hitting him twice. He toppled over.

Stanton stood with his weapon out, still in his stance. His hearing was muffled. He had temporarily been deafened, but he could hear Mindi screaming. He felt an intense warmth that made him feel relaxed. He glanced down and saw the black blood flowing from a wound in his stomach. He heard the last gurgled breath of Orson Hall, then he fell to his knees, lifted his head, and dropped to his side.