Taking It on the Lam by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Page 104

I said; “I just abhor violence. Don’t you? So gauche and goyish.” I again raised my gun hand to the level of his noodle.

“Okay, okay. Maybe I got somethin’ for ya.”

When I motioned “move” with my gat, Cohen slowly walked through the busy living room, where everything seemed in place, but seemed to also be inordinately low.

I followed him into another world; a windowless, interior, back room loaded floor to ceiling with the kind of unsellable junk endemic to pawn shops and indie operators. There was a three by five, cast iron safe at the far corner; quite likely much too secure in its apparently oblivious disinterest in its gritty surroundings.

Taking It on the Lam