Deadly Compromises by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 4
He drove to town and got on an outside phone, in the fast food parking lot, to call his number, hoping for an enlightening response.
Ring, ring, ring....
“Yeah.”
Bobby said; “Jason?”
“Yeah, again.”
“Tony.” Bobby’s work name.
“What’s up?”
“Problems. You’re going to have to get somebody else for this one.”
“No, I can’t. There’s a rush order. What’s the problem?”
“Hard to describe over the phone. You know me and I haven’t given you any bullshit in ten years. But it’s kind of not my fault. Things happened because you rushed me here.”
“I can double your payoff to $150,000.”
Nice how Jason could get right to the point. “I also need more time.”
“No more than three or four days.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” Jason hung up.
He just aimlessly drove a bit before he went back to the motel. Bobby thought about how he might get out of his predicament. Jason didn’t sound flexible at all, so he’d have to find some other way. The extra money was nice, but not what he needed. When he got back he noticed that Kelly was in her usual position, behind the office counter, reading. Something seemed different about her at a quick glance. A closer view revealed that she wore a tight, almost red dress. She saw him pull in and went to the door. “Damn,” he thought, “I’m trying to keep my mind on work.” He soon forgot that though, when she exited the office.
He said; “Kelly.”
“Glad to see ya’.”
She slowly walked to his car. They looked at each other and nodded slowly. They walked to number eight. He opened the door and they went in.
“Kelly, before we get started, I’ve got to tell you something and ask you something. Do you love your husband?”
“WHAT? You must be some kind of nut, especially now.” She paused and then came back quizzically. “What do you mean, love?”
“I can’t answer that. If you know it you feel it.”
She said; “I guess so,” displaying the beginning of disinterest.
“Is this marriage what you expected it to be at age 16?”
“No,” she shrieked. “I grew up. Didn’t you?”
“I guess not,” realizing she had already answered his original question.
“I am a hit man. I came here to kill your husband.”
She said; “Seriously, are you all there?”
“I don't know, are you?”
“Much more than you, apparently.” She remembered that she was the beneficiary on a five million dollar life insurance policy old sweetie agreed to buy for her, just prior to marriage, premiums fully paid. She yelled, “I swear to God, all the nuts have a way of finding me. Now, I’m completely out of the mood, so we might as well play your stupid game. All right, Mr. Hit Man, what did my husband do to deserve this?”
“They never tell me. But, usually it’s people who don’t pay mob debts. When you talked about having to work here lately, I figured that’s the most likely case here. I admit, what you’re looking at is a lousy hit man. I deserve a grade of about 20. No lie, I usually get 90+, but I am fucking up this job, incredibly, including right now.”
She laughed, “How long have you been doing this?”
“Ten years.”
She sarcastically said; “What made you choose this line of work?” still thinking that this guy was not all there.
“It was a tragedy I’d rather not talk about and an angry reaction to it.”
“You’re a psychologist, too, I suppose?” she said derisively.
“You’re very difficult.”
“Look who’s talking.”
“Do you really want to hear another tragedy story?
“Entertain me.”
Do you prefer long or short stories?”
“As short as possible.”
Bobby looked away from her and in staccato fashion quickly rattled off, “In my teen years, I developed a “hippy” type of outlook. I think I got pushed over the brink during the Democratic convention held in Chicago in 1968. I was lucky enough to meet and marry my dream girl, who had a similar viewpoint. She was an artist. We bought and lived in a 200
year old farmhouse in rural New Jersey. Everything was ideal for a few years and then she died of cancer at age 27. I guess I got mad at the world. I met another girl who was born into the mob. She said I’d make a good hit man. She’d purposely piss me off, then say, ‘Look at those eyes. You could kill and not give a shit.’”
“So, you’ve been doing this for ten years. How many hits?”
She was beginning to enjoy the game.
“I never counted.... Maybe forty.... Maybe fifty. I’m really not sure.”
Kelly snorted and replied; “I’d probably have remembered.”
“After the first, it doesn’t matter.”
She just looked at him puzzled.
He said, “If you’ve got a ‘God thing,’ I’m no more guilty for forty than one. I’ll get the same punishment.”
“’God thing’? How about just a ‘Murder is wrong thing?’”
“As soon as the contract is out, the victim is dead. The one who puts out the contract has committed the murder. I only execute. The only question is who is going to get paid for it.”
“Have you played this game before?”
“Yeah, I told you forty or fifty times.”
Kelly shook her head “No,” and said; “I mean telling this kind of story to some chick. Is this what gets you off?”
He thought for a while. “No, it doesn’t get me off. Kind of the opposite. Maybe I played it in my head while I was morally justifying my new job to myself.” He was now getting
tired of this game. “Okay, the hell with this game, let’s play yours.” He reached for her hand.
She pulled it away and said; “I’m not playing anything now.
After this conversation I’m not going to be in the mood for a week. All right, let’s say I believe that you’re a hit man.
Then you missed your calling. What you should have done for a living is turn women off. You do it so well.”
Acknowledging the general truth of that statement in his own mind, he cocked his head to the left, raised his eyebrows and said; “You didn’t say that yesterday.”
She stamped her foot with quick anger. “You son of a bitch. Look, honey lover, I’m going to put on proper attire to continue this bullshit.”
She left the room and walked back to the office. She wanted to clear her head a bit and think a while by herself.
She took off the tight dress and put on her uniform blue jeans and man’s shirt. She thought; “Clearly, he’s either a hit man or crazy. I’ve got to watch myself in either case. So, say, he is a hit man. My heart wouldn’t be broken when Alan leaves this world and I’d have $5,000,000. If he’s not, I’ve lost one night’s sexcapade. The game is fine with me as long as he doesn’t freak out on me. I’ll keep playing.”
She went back to his room and sat on the bed. He got next to her.
She said; “I’ve decided that I’m with you, but why are you telling me all this shit?”
“Feeling. The fact that you don’t love him makes it easy for me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Right, but I concluded that.”
She literally jumped in the air; “You’re a mind reader too?”
“No, I’m a word reader. My problem is that I think I love you. I can’t get you off my mind.”
“Come on, we just met. Now, you’re a nut for a couple of reasons. Have you got any idea how many times I’ve heard that one?”
He reached to hold her hand, touched it and she pulled away. She looked at him and saw a hurt little boy and when she was a little girl, she liked little boys a lot. She decided to keep that image out of her head, though. It always ended in a broken heart — hers.
He said, “I’m hungry. Let’s cut this for now and get something to eat.”
“You’re going to kill him?” she said firmly.
“Yes.”
“I’m a witness, idiot.”
“I told you, I’m doing a really shitty job this time.”
She laughed out loud. He was glad; he usually couldn’t make anyone laugh.
She said, “Okay, let’s walk to the burger place.”
“No, you’ll have to get it and bring it here. I don’t want everyone in town to see me. Or we could drive some other place.”
“I’ll get the burgers.” She wanted more time alone to think, anyway.
As she walked her mind raced; “She had previously thought about a dead husband, except in her dreams it would be due to natural causes. Still she couldn’t dismiss the fact that she was an old hippy and still believed in peace, love and nonviolence, all that old time shit. However, new times require new solutions. But this is rather radical. He knew I’d never love him when he married me, to get a fairly young chick he
could bring to his business meetings; usually over the barbecue with beer. Of course, I’m not allowed to smoke pot around his associates. I got an insurance policy of no value if he outlives me and of dubious value if he lives an average lifespan, as I’ll get the honor of being a rich old bat. I was also supposed to have the right not to work, except to smile and suffer the barbeques, if I didn’t feel like it and now that’s changed. He reneged on the deal. This isn’t the first thing I didn’t like. Alan never was anything like a hippy, probably didn’t have any idea what they were and didn’t care. I’ve seen some old pictures. When it became stylish for guys to wear bells and grow hair modestly long, he did, succeeding in looking as convincing as a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I was never into pure fat and I can’t stand those two big bulging eyes constantly staring at me. I don’t even want to imagine what he’s thinking during the ten minute gawks. She laughed to herself. Come on, Kelly, be practical, be practical. Bobby could be the solution to a lot of problems. He could get caught and I’ll be rich. He could get away with it and I could tire of him. Or, maybe I wouldn’t. I like that thought, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had a reason to be so optimistic. I don’t need another letdown. But, how could I be more let down than I am already.
The situation sounds like I can’t lose. Uh, oh. What if
Bobby’s really not a hit man or botches the job? I’ll be back where I started. No loss. Okay.”
She got to the door of the burger place and thought, “What the hell do I want here?” She figured that one out without much trouble and while walking back with the bag, her old hippy morality enjoyed an uprising. She thought, “No, murder is a big sin in my book. I can’t live with a killer. How about an executioner? Too fine a distinction. Consider hard-nosed practicality. What if, somehow he makes me party to the crime and we get caught? I may already be complicit. I better straighten this out because if I wind up in jail, I’ll kill myself.”
She realized the complexity of the situation and tried to distill it as much as possible. She thought; “If Bobby does kill ‘Big Bugga Eyes’, I am already a party to the crime, facing possible jail time. If Bobby is working for Alan or the police, I face possible jail time. Condoning murder violates my personal moral code and could result in my being in another type of prison. Of course being with Alan is also like being in prison, OF HIS MAKING. The only good practical solution with complete safety is to hope that Bobby is delusional and really isn’t a hit man, or to stop him from killing Alan if he isn’t delusional. Of course, this isn’t a perfect solution unless
Alan dies some other way, without my known involvement. No risk, no reward. No guts, no glory.” All this thinking was making her tired, confused and frustrated. When this started all she wanted was a little loving. As she walked back to the motel, she decided not to go through all her thoughts with Bobby. However, she did want to get at least one thing accomplished and that was to eliminate the possibility of her being set up. She remembered that legally a person could not be charged with conspiracy, attempted murder or anything else if the authorities broach the subject first. It becomes entrapment at that point.
She thought; “If he’s working for Alan and is not a cop, I can always say I was just playing his game. It’s my word against his and I have no criminal record. I’ve never even been arrested. All of this shit just because I wanted a little affection. I think I might quit, forever. Perish that thought.
The decision tree contains too many possibilities, at least for my head. I am thoroughly confused. First things first. I’ll attempt to stay out of more trouble than I’m already in.”
The mid-day sun was in her eyes until she opened the door to the dimly lit room. Kelly, in a firm tone, immediately said;
“Okay, smarty, who’s doing a shitty job, what is my role in this? And, what do I get for it?”
Bobby was lying down on the bed, smiled, tapped his hand invitingly and said; “You help me kill him and I’ll give you me.”
She uncontrollably laughed out loud and then said; “Don’t I ever get a good deal? But more importantly, I’m not into murder, it would kill me, one way or another.”
Seeing the somewhat serious tone Kelly came back with, Bobby sat up in bed, his feet on the floor and replied; “You don’t have to do the killing, just kind of set him up. It’s simple. I’ll tell you how later. Basically, just don’t prevent it from happening and don’t tell anyone that I did it.”
She was surprised at the answer. “You don’t understand. I don’t believe in any kind of murder. It’s not only a matter of my involvement.”
“Let’s break for a minute. I’m kind of overwhelmed.”
She couldn’t help but laugh out loud again and she said;
“You think you are? Imagine me.”
“I have,” with a little smile. “You’re beautiful when you’re angry.”
Kelly was persistent and said; “Come on now. There will be no murder. Let's just eat for a while. I’m probably hungrier
than you are.” They both sat on the carpeted floor, spread out the goodies and began to ravenously munch away.
He said; “The guys I work for never want to hear that.”
She mumbled through a mouthful; “Hear what?”
“That there will be no murder.”
She just stared at him.
He thought as quickly as he could. He didn’t want to risk permanently alienating the woman he had, literally overnight, come to love. He hadn’t met anyone like her before and didn’t expect to again. But, he also was reticent to antagonize his employers. They weren’t the type of people to be on the wrong side of. He had given them his word, which is all you have in this business. And, they had always kept their word to him. He was hopelessly confused. Torn.
He could not risk losing Kelly, so he decided to wing it and see where the conversation would go. He noticeably sighed and said; “All right, say that I don’t kill him. I’ll have to tell my people that something has changed and it has to be a very good story, like I’m in prison or something. I might get away with it, but it’s not a good thing to do. Plus, they always keep their word to me and so far, vice versa. In a short
time they’ll just send somebody else to kill Alan anyway. He’s dead meat.”
She especially liked the sound of the last three words, but didn’t show it. She got a bit evasive, looking for time, raised her voice and said; “They NEVER lied to you?”
“No.”
She just looked. She wasn’t sure she could believe that one. She thought; “Maybe he really does believe what he’s saying, but he’s probably very wrong. Everyone I’ve ever met lies in one way or another.”
In a conciliatory voice, Bobby said, “Like I’ve already told you, he’s probably being hit for debts. If we could pay off his debts maybe I’d be fine.” He tried to make her laugh and said; “How much money do you have on you?”
Kelly wasn’t amused and thought; “Here comes the scam.” She replied; “Nothing. And all I could put my hands on without Alan’s signature is only about $1,500.” This was the truth, as she only had access to enough money to run the household and it was doled out by Alan, the financial wizard.
Bobby thought that sounded strange, but, figured that if Alan did owe the mob a ton, that there probably wasn’t a lot of
green stuff around. He also didn’t want to start distrusting her, as that was always the beginning of the end and not much had even started yet. He rubbed his hand across his forehead and said; “Then I’d have to borrow money from the mob myself.
They might go for the deal. I’ll tell them I just promoted myself from hit man to collection man.” He laughed. “Kelly, if I get him squared away, you’re with me, right?” He realized that he was just thinking out loud and logical as the plan sounded, he had no way of being one hundred percent sure that the voice on the phone would agree.
She was happy and relieved with the financial aspect of his statement, but wanted a bit of clarification on another part and said; “What do you mean, with me?”
“You know. Lovers. Together. Living together.”
She was getting to like him a lot and could easily picture herself under the same roof with him. But, she also considered the possibility that after he thought that he had captured her, he might become something other than what he was showing now, on his best behavior. She’d heard of that happening often enough.
She didn’t want to lie and came up with an in-between response;
“What if I decided to leave in a year?”
Bobby didn’t want to entertain that thought, but could understand her position. He reflected for a moment and then said; “Fine, a year can be the cut off. Give me that much time.
If you want to leave after that, you’re free. Dammit, Kelly, I love you.”
Realizing that he may have solved her dilemma, she said; “I might love you, too.” She decided to put more of her cards on the table and added; “You’ll have to find a new job, though. One that doesn’t involve murder or whatever you call it.”
Bobby didn’t want to hear that. He was forty years old and men don’t often start new careers at that point. On the other hand he had accumulated a fair amount of money over the last ten years, performing executions, as he preferred calling the work.
Maybe he actually could transfer to the Collections Department.
Most of all, he wanted a chance with Kelly and that now seemed possible. Fully intending to keep to his word, he said; “I promise.”
They held each other. She leaned back to the bed and let him remove her blue jeans and shoes. He got on his knees
........ Sweet, soft music played for too short a time.
She got up. “I lost track of time, baby. I better get home. Alan’s been acting a little strange.”
He anxiously said; “Please, before you go just tell me two things. I know we’re both tired, but since it’s already been a draining marathon session, let’s complete it today. I’m sure you’re a lot like me, but tell me what you’re all about. Then tell me about Alan. It could be useful.”
Kelly said; “I’m going to be brief. We’re going to have plenty of time to elaborate on things in the near future. I was a smart unhappy kid who also adopted the “hippy” culture. I couldn’t wait to get to college, in the hope of meeting others like me. When I got there, I found some and a number of us lived on a commune. My problem was that the guys didn’t want to bring children into this world and I did. The communal life went on until I was 35 and I gave up. I married Alan primarily for financial security, but at first I was considering children.
After knowing him awhile I decided that I definitely didn’t want a baby blood related to Alan. I considered having one by someone else, but decided not to, because Alan would still be the male with the most influence over the child. You have a good idea of the rest. So, here I am, with those two bulging eyes watching me .......... Whenever he can find me, that is.”
She laughed.
Bobby was looking right into her green eyes and sobbed;
“Maybe it’s still possible.”
“What?”
“Children.”
“I’m no youngster anymore.”
“To me, you’ll always be young.”
Kelly brushed her hand under Bobby’s cheek. He took her hand in his and kissed it. She said; “Thanks, really. I should get going, so let me fill you in on Alan. He grew up during the Depression. His family was fairly well off, but not what I’d call rich. He was a fat, not particularly bright kid, who looked 40 when he was 15. He was made fun of by both boys and girls. The only thing he knew for sure was that when he had money to spend, most of the other kids acted as his friends.
The wrong conclusion he came to was to attempt to buy those he could, while ignoring and disdaining the others, who potentially could have been REAL friends. Now, it seems that he isn’t even bright enough to properly take care of the money end. Maybe if he watched the long green half as much as he watched me, he’d be much better off.” She paused a second or two, then added; “Hey, honey lover, I’ve really got to get going. Alan might come looking for me here.”
Bobby still had moisture in his eyes when he said; “You were burned into my soul before birth.”
She leaned over, again putting her left hand under his chin and kissed him on the lips. She said; “Everything’s going to be all right.” She turned and exited. He sighed, watching her depart. He didn’t want to move. He needed rest and knew she did too. He was content to think that neither of them was still confused, at least not completely.
She drove home. Alan was there looking his customary disgruntled. It was 9PM. Kelly walked in the front door and was immediately greeted with a loud, demanding voice, which said; “I was just at the office and you weren’t there. Where were you?”
Kelly calmly replied; “Wasn’t Mindy supposed to work today?”
“No, Mindy works only Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, except, usually the second week of the month when she does typing for a small time local writer. Some weeks he has nothing to type, then....”
“Enough, I get the idea.” She felt the usual disdain. She could get him off his main track so easily. “Don’t give me all the details. Just write down which days I’m supposed to be there and I’ll be there. The times would be helpful, too.”
He went off, collecting some papers, to accomplish the task that might take hours, especially since there was some uncertainty involved. As he turned away, scurrying on to try to do as he was told, she couldn’t help but think, “What an asshole, no wonder his business is a mess.”
She put on a CD, whichever one she put her hands on first.
She just wanted to drown out his tedium. “Hey, Alan, I’m so tired, I think I’ll drowse off right here, okay?” The sound of Simon and Garfunkel singing “Homeward Bound” almost soothed her nerves and then she saw the “Big Bugga Eyes” on her and heard his voice.
“Okay, I’ll have this schedule for you in a while.”
“Just leave it somewhere I can find it.”
“I’ll put it on top of the refrigerator.”
She lay down on the couch and closed her eyes, temporarily oblivious to the imitation Spanish décor, courtesy of Sears’s bargain basement and Alan’s taste. The part she liked best was the dents and scratches. The mini-mogul tried to cope with his uncertainty problem.