Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand)

Twenty-four

Unbelievably, the man I hit with the tire iron was also dead. That meant we couldn’t question any of them about why they were there.

“You hit him right in the head,” Thomas said as he crouched over the body. “Split him open.”

I was still unwinding duct tape from around Jerry. As I freed his mouth he told us what had happened when he returned home.

“I’m sorry, Mr. G.,” he said. “I screwed up.”

“There were three of them, Jerry,” I said. “You should’ve just left.”

He nodded. I knew his ego was battered, but we couldn’t deal with that at the moment. I left him to finish freeing his legs.

Sammy was sitting on the sofa. He had dropped the revolver to the floor.

“I don’t know what just happened here,” he said. “Was this about my problem?”

“I don’t know, Sam,” I said. “We got three dead men who can’t tell us a thing-four, if we count the one in the warehouse.”

“There’s another dead guy?” Thomas asked.

I looked at Sammy, who said, “Hey, he deserves to know something. He saved our asses.”

Briefly, I told Thomas as little as possible while trying to make it seem like we were taking him into our confidence.

“I’m sorry you had to get involved in this,” I ended, “but you probably saved all our lives.”

“Are you planning to call the police?” he asked.

I looked around at Sammy, Jerry, the bodies on the floor, then back at Thomas.

“I don’t know what we’re gonna do,” I said, honestly. “I guess since you’re involved we’ll have to call just to keep you out of trouble. I mean, there shouldn’t be any trouble, since you fired in self-defense, and defense of all of us, but-”

“Since I saved all your lives can I ask a favor?” Thomas asked, cutting me off.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“No cops.”

“You got a reason?”

“Yes.”

I waited then said, “A reason you can’t share?”

“Not can’t,” he said. “Don’t want to.”

“Okay,” I said, “I can respect that.”

“Why isn’t anyone bangin’ on the door?” Sammy asked. “Quiet neighborhood like this?”

“If anybody heard shots, they don’t know where they came from,” Jerry said.

“They might call the cops anyway,” Sammy offered.

We all stood silent for a moment.

“I don’t hear any sirens,” I said. “We’ve got time to talk this over.”

“Man,” Sammy said, “I’d rather not have cops involved, either.”

Jerry was busy picking duct tape off his arms.

“Jerry?”

He looked up at me.

“Your call, Mr. G. I’ll go along with anything you say. I’m uh, gonna go and try to wash this sticky stuff off.”

He left the room. I walked over to the chair he’d been sitting in. The tape hadn’t done it any good. I thought I might have to get rid of it.

I turned and looked at Sammy-still seated on the sofa-and Thomas-still standing over one of the bodies.

“You haven’t called the cops about the first guy yet, have you?” Sammy asked.

“No.”

“Well,” Thomas said, “in for a penny …”

He was saying since I had already broken the law by not reporting that body, what were three more? Except that we were going to have to move these three.

I walked to the sofa-stepping over Lee-and sat next to Sammy. We listened, and there were still no sirens.

“Anybody decide anythin’?” Jerry asked, walking back into the room.

“Yeah,” I said, “I think we need drinks all around, Jerry.”

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll get ’em.”

When we all had drinks in our hands-bourbon all around-I said, “If we don’t report this we’ve got to get rid of the bodies.”

“Coverin’ up three killings, that’s heavy,” Jerry said. “Movin’ the bodies, that’s even heavier.”

“I know, Jerry.”

“I still prefer that to calling the police,” Thomas said. “I’ll help with anything you want to do.”

I took a pull on my drink and sat back on the sofa. Next to me Sammy was sitting forward, one leg bouncing from either nerves or extra energy.

“Does anybody mind if Sammy leaves?” I asked.

“What?” Sammy said.

“I think you should get out of here, back to the Sands,” I said. “Go back to Tahoe in the morning.”

“I plan on going back,” he said, “but I ain’t leavin’ here tonight. That’d be leavin’ the three of you in the lurch.”

“We can handle this, Mr. Davis,” Jerry said.

“They’re right,” Thomas said. “You’ve got too much to lose, sir.”

Sammy looked at the three of us in turn.

“I fired a gun, here,” he said.

“You didn’t hit anybody,” I said.

“We’ll wipe the gun down,” Jerry said. “No prints.”

“Thomas,” I said, “can you drive Mr. Davis to the Sands? We don’t want to involve a cab driver.”

“Sure,” Thomas said, “and then I’ll come back and you fellas can tell me what we’re going to do.”

“Deal,” I said.

Sammy stood up.

“I don’t feel right about this.”

“Sam,” I said, “there’s a possibility that what happened here had nothing to do with your problem.”

“How likely is that?”

“Not likely,” I agreed, “but possible. Why risk the publicity?”

He drained his drink and put the glass down on a nearby table.

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll leave, but-”

“No buts,” I said. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Whatever happened here, we still have your problem to consider.”

“Maybe,” he said, “everyone involved with that is dead right here in this room.”

“These guys were messenger boys,” Jerry said. “Not brains.”

Sammy shrugged.

“I was just hopin’.”