Read Online Dirty Deeds by Armand Rosamilia - Free Book Online Page B

wiped his mouth and smacked his lips. He was a drunk and an alcoholic. Maybe Will getting away from this guy was a good thing, although based on the stories I’d heard so far about Will’s life, it was six of one and half a dozen of the other. I liked that expression.
    “My wife ran into him at the Port Authority once, about two years ago. She was on her way to meet her sister for lunch. She said he looked like death warmed over. Slumped against the wall with nothing but a sleeping bag filled with junk. A tin can for tips. He was playing his guitar for change. Probably for drugs and alcohol,” Frank said.
    I declined pointing at the flask in his hand and let him continue.
    “When he saw my wife, you know what he did?” Frank asked.
    I wanted to say spit on her but I just stared.
    “He spit on her. Can you believe it?”
    I stood. “Yes. I can. You and your wife threw out a kid who’d already been thrown out. You abandoned a twelve year old little boy with anger issues. Instead of getting Will help you. . . you’re a horrible person, and so is your damn wife.” I was livid and my hands were shaking in anger.
    I wasn’t a violent man, per se, but this guy was pushing all the right buttons. In case you hadn’t already guessed, I took protecting children very seriously. My job was to take them from an abysmal situation and put them with loving, caring people. I did this at great risk. Sure, the money was amazing but I’d do it for free if I knew it would help a kid.
    The Black family had taken damaged goods and further crushed it. William Black had been dealt the worst hand ever, and I felt sorry for the kid. What chance did he have? I know the bleeding heart Liberals will moan about how bad this kid had it, and for once I agreed.
    “Get out of my house,” Frank said and tried to stand.
    I moved two steps forward and chopped him in the throat without a thought. I’m not a violent person, I told myself as I cocked my fist back.
    “I’m going to ask you a few more questions and then I’ll leave. You’ll answer them truthfully and the five hundred is yours. I’ll add another hundred to keep your mouth shut. Got it? I wasn’t here. Do we have a deal?” I kept my fist ready to strike. I was actually hoping he’d say something stupid or curse at me so I could unload and beat him to within an inch of his life.
    I’m really not a violent person, but I can be pushed like anyone else.
    Frank sat down and finished off what little was left in his flask, rubbing his throat.
    “Do you have anything left of his?”
    Frank shook his head.
    “Why didn’t you tell anyone you got rid of him like a sack of garbage?”
    Frank sighed. When he spoke his voice cracked and he was in obvious pain from the throat chop, which made me happy.
    “We were still collecting from the state. We needed the money but not the problem,” Frank said.
    “You sicken me,” I said. I knew it was cliché but it fit.
    Frank glared. “William tried to set the house on fire during one of his meth binges. He built a lab in the garage at ten. At ten. The kid was a menace and couldn’t be controlled. He was glad to leave and so were we.”
    I had serious doubts the kid had built a meth lab. I’m sure he smoked pot and maybe did some hard stuff but cooking his own? No way. Frank was making excuses and trying to paint himself as the victim.
    “What else can you tell me about him? If it wasn’t Will on the beach, where could he be?”
    Frank shrugged. “Check Port Authority or the sewers. You can’t miss the dirty bum. He looked like a rat with his gray skin and missing all his teeth from the drugs.”
    Missing all his teeth.
    The toothless guy in the upstairs window of the jazz club was Will Black.
    Alive and well. For now.

EIGHT
    The white van smelled like bleach and I had to roll the windows down so I didn’t choke on the fumes. Whoever Marisa got the van from was new at this, because a clean vehicle just meant no fingerprints or receipts