Part 6 (2/2)
”Ow! My lip's caught in my braces!”
”You pimple-faced little moron. Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you're in right now? Not only did you accept money to commit a felony, but now you've got a price on your head. Did Mrs. Garbonzo tell you about the guy her husband hired to kill you?”
He nodded, his Adam's apple wiggling like a fish.
”Are-are you here to kill me?”
”No.”
”But you've got a gun.” He pointed to the b.u.t.t of my Magnum, jutting out of my shoulder holster.
”I'm a private detective.”
”Is that a real gun?”
”Yes.”
”Can I touch it?”
”No.”
”Come on. Lemme touch it.”
This is what happens when you spare the rod and spoil the child.
”Look kid, I know that you're a loser that n.o.body likes, and that you're a virgin and will probably stay one for the next ten years, but do you want to die?”
”Ten years?”
”Answer the question.”
”No. I don't want to die.”
I sighed. ”That's a start. Where's the money?”
”I've got a secret place. In the wall.”
He rolled off the bed, eager, and pried a piece of paneling away from the plaster in a less-cluttered corner of the room. His hand reached in, and came out with a brown paper shopping bag.
”Is it all there?”
Billy shook his head. ”I spent three hundred on a wicked MP3 player.”
”Hand over the money. And the MP3 player.”
Billy showed a bit of reluctance, so I smacked him again to help with his motivation.
It helped. He also gave me fresh batteries for the player.
”Now what?” he sniffled.
”Now we tell your parents.”
”Do we have to?”
”You'd prefer the cops?”
He shook his head. ”No. No cops.”
”That blonde upstairs with the face like a snare drum, that your mom?”
”Yeah.”
”Let's go have a talk with her.”
Mrs. Johansenn was perched in front of a sixty inch television, watching a soap.
”Nice TV. High definition?”
”Plasma.”
”Nice. Billy has something he wants to tell you.”
Billy stared at his shoes. ”Mom, I bought an ad in the back of Famous Soldier Magazine, and some lady gave me fifty thousand dollars to kill her husband.”
Mrs. Johansenn hit the mute b.u.t.ton on the remote, shaking her head in obvious disappointment.
”Billy, dammit, this is too much. You're a hired killer?”
”Sorry,” he mumbled.
”You're father is going to have a stroke when he hears this.”
”Do we have to tell Dad?”
”Are you kidding?”
”I gave the money back.”
”Who are you?” Billy's mom squinted at me.
”I'm Harry McGlade. I'm a private eye. I was hired to find Billy. Someone is trying to kill him.”
Mrs. Johansenn rolled her eyes. ”Oh, this gets better and better. I need to call Sal.”
”You husband?”
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