Part 21 (1/2)
”I won't call the police. The police and I don't have a very good relations.h.i.+p. I kind of annoy them. I-”
I tapped him on the head again. ”I wasn't finished.”
”Can you please stop-”
Tap. ”You're still talking.”
He looked at me and opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it.
I hit him anyway.
”But I didn't-”
”You just did.” Tap.
I may have tapped him too hard, because he went from his knees onto his a.s.s.
”The thing is, Saucey, much as I'm just dying inside to trust you, it's probably better if I don't. Do you have ten feet of clothesline on you?”
He didn't say anything, which I took to be a no.
”Neither do I. So my only alternative is to knock you out. Now stand up so I can hit you on the head again.”
He didn't move.
”Would you prefer me shooting you?”
Slowly, mola.s.ses slowly, he got to his knees. I might have felt sorry for the guy, but the sympathy gene skipped a generation.
I reared back and cracked him a good one on the noggin, which made a sound like a belt being snapped. He teetered over and ate the lawn.
I watched him for a full minute. No movement. But he may have been faking unconsciousness to discourage me from smacking him again. Some people are savvy like that.
”You awake?” I asked.
No answer.
”Look, I have to know for sure, so right now I'm going to stomp as hard as I can on your gonads. I'm sure you understand.”
I raised a foot and watched him s.h.i.+ft slightly.
”Aspirin...” he groaned. ”Plentiful aspirin...”
I sighed. Hitting him again might kill him. Plus, my arm was getting tired.
”Get your a.s.s up. We're switching to Plan B.”
The guy took his time getting to his feet, wobbling a little in the process.
”Okay, Saucy. Use the pry bar to break into the house.”
”Me?”
”You see anyone else out here?”
He blinked. Then he blinked again. ”Why don't you do the manual labor on your own felony?”
”I've got to hold the gun.”
”No problem. You can let me hold the gun.”
I faked another strike at his head, and when he flinched I stomped on his foot, heel first.
”Put down the G.o.dd.a.m.n sauce and grab the crowbar. You're p.i.s.sing me off.”
He obeyed.
”Make sure it's in the jamb really good, then put some weight on it.”
The door moaned in protest, then popped open. I s.h.i.+ned the penlight inside, but it wasn't strong enough to breach the dark room. I held my breath and listened. No sound came from within.
While I was preoccupied, Sauce-boy took the opportunity to swing the crowbar at me. Luckily, my catlike reflexes switched on and I ducked before he took my head off. I shoved the gun in his face and he froze.
”Sorry. Crowbar slipped.”
”Drop it.”
He complied.
”Into the house. Stay quiet or the last sound you'll hear is your brain exiting through your eye sockets. It's sort of a bang/slurp sound. Trust me, you wouldn't like it.”
”This probably isn't new information, but you're kind of a p.r.i.c.k.”
”You caught me on a bad day. Now move it. Nice and slow.”
I marched him three steps into the dark house, unable to see a d.a.m.n thing. There wasn't a single light on, and all the curtains were drawn. I smelled incense, and something under it. Something funky.
My partner took another step, made an uumph! sound, and pitched forward.
I flashed on the penlight to see what he tripped over, and saw it was a naked dead guy with his throat ripped out.
While sauce-boy flailed around like a fish, I played the penlight around the floor, noticing something distinctly odd. The throat wound was so deep the neck vertebrae were exposed.
But there was surprisingly little blood.
The man smirked as I scrambled to my feet. Though I make it a point to give all of my fellow human beings the benefit of the doubt, I had pretty much decided that he was a complete a.s.shole.
”What's the matter?” he asked. ”Never seen a dead body before?”
Actually, I had. Several of them. Gross ones. But he didn't need to know that, so I shook my head.