Read Online 3 a.m. (Henry Bins 1) by Nick Pirog - Free Book Online

hours later and
walked into the living room, the two were asleep next to one
another, Murdock’s huge paw cradled around the small cat.
    “ Don’t forget who feeds
you,” I tell Lassie, who is lying on Murdock’s back, gently rocking
with each of the mastiff’s breaths.
    Meow.
    “ You can’t have two
BFFs.”
    “ Are you okay?” my dad
asks.
    I ignore him and point to a place across the
street and tell him to park.
    “ You sure this place is
open?” he asks. 
    “ It said it was open
twenty-four hours.”
    There is a group of unsavory characters
standing just outside the entrance and my dad says, “You want me to
come with you?”
    “ No, better you stay with
the car.”
    I hop out and walk past three leering
gangsters, trying not to look like I’m carrying five thousand in
cash in my right front pocket. I push through the barred door and
the chiming of bells alerts someone to my presence.
    The man behind the counter is a white guy
with a ponytail. He is wearing a jean jacket and fingerless gloves.
He looks like what a guy who is working at a pawnshop at three in
the morning is supposed to look like.
    “ What can I do
for ya?” he inquires as I approach.
    I pull the receipt from my pocket and hand
it to him. “My girlfriend sold this and I’d like to buy it
back.”
    He scrunches his face at
me, then pulls up glasses attached to a chain around his
neck and peers down at the receipt. There is a code on the receipt
that reads 2F49.
    It could be anything, a TV, a coat,
art, jewelry. I’m hoping whatever it is will somehow connect
Jessica to whoever killed her. Killed her and took two hundred
thousand dollars. 
    “ Let’s see here,” he says.
He walks down the counter, bends down, and says, “You’re in
luck, number forty-nine is still hanging
around.”
    He pulls out a watch and lays it on the
counter.
    It is silver, with a black leather band. The
second hand sweeps effortlessly across the numerals. It is a
beautiful piece of craftsmanship.
    “ Nice watch,” he
says.
    I nod.
    “ This what you’re looking
for?”
    “ That’s it,” I say, hoping
it is. “You remember the girl who sold you this?”
    “ I wasn’t here, but Chip,
one of the other guys was, and he told me about some hot little
number who come in wanting ten thousand for some watch.”  He
pauses, “That sound like your lady?”
    I nod, but I’m thinking about Jessica. She
wanted ten grand, but took twelve hundred. She must have been
desperate.
    “ How much for it back?” I
ask. 
    “ How much you willing to
pay?”
    “ Three grand.”
    He laughs and says that it is worth three
times that.
    “ Thirty-five hundred,” I
counter.
    Laughs again.
    “ Four.”
    Less laughing.
    “ Forty-five.”
    Almost a nod.
    “ Five.”
    “ Deal.”
    I fork over all five grand.  He
polishes the watch for me, then hands it over and I
realize I have just spent five grand on a watch that most likely
belongs to Mr. Clemens.  I put it in my pocket and walk
quickly across the street and get back into the car.
    “ You get it?” my dad
asks.
    “ Yeah.” I turn and look at
Lassie and say, “I really could have used you
in there buddy. Guy cleaned me out.”
    Meow.
    “ You would not have gotten
it for fifty dollars.”
    He laughs.
    “ Let’s see it,” my dad
says.
    The clock on the dash reads 3:53 a.m.
    The gangsters are staring at us from across
the way and I say, “Let’s get out of this neighborhood
first.”  
    We drive for five
minutes, then pull into a neighborhood with fences.
    “ Now, that is a nice
watch,” my dad says, though I hardly hear him. I am too busy trying
to make out the inscription on the back. I read it out loud, “To
Risky, may all your dreams come true. Mom and Dad.”
    My dad’s eyebrows jump.
    “ What?” I ask.
    “ I think I know whose
watch that is.”
    I stare at him.
    He explains how he is openly referred to
as Risky.
    My dad says the name. “Ricky Sullivan.”
    The President’s