Read Online Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand) by Robert J. Randisi - Free Book Online

seemed steady as he said, “Come on in.”
    We followed him in and Jerry closed the door behind us.
    “This the cat you told me about?” Sammy asked when we reached the sofa. “The one you said you could trust?”
    “Yes,” I said, “this is Jerry.”
    “I know you, don’t I?” Sammy asked.
    “Maybe,” Jerry said. “I was around a couple of times last year.”
    “Sure, okay,” Sammy said. “You helped with Frank and Dean’s problems.”
    “I helped Mr. G., yeah.”
    Sammy leaned over, stubbed out the cigarette in a loaded ashtray, and immediately lit another one.
    “You got it?” he asked, then. “You bring the gun?”
    Jerry had offered to carry the gun and I’d let him. He was so big it made less of a bulge in his belt. He reached behind his back and took it out, wrapped in a cloth. Neither of us had touched it with our bare hands.
    I put it down on the table and unwrapped it.
    “Examine it without touching it,” I told Sammy.
    “I don’t have to examine it,” he said. “It’s one of mine.”
    “How do you know?” I asked.
    “A man knows his own guns,” he said.
    “He’s right, Mr. G.,” Jerry offered.
    “That’s just great,” I said. “I need a drink. Anybody else?”
    “Sure,” Sammy said.
    “I’ll get ’em,” Jerry said.
    “Here.” Sammy picked up a glass from the table next to the sofa and handed it to Jerry. “Bourbon, rocks.”
    “Me, too, Jerry.”
    Jerry went to the bar and built three drinks while I stayed where I was and watched Sammy, who actually crouched down and stared at the gun.
    “Do we know for sure the cat was killed with this gun?” he asked.
    “No,” I said, “but it seems pretty obvious somebody wanted you to get the blame.”
    He used one finger to move the gun, just touching the cloth. Jerry came over, handed me my drink and put Sammy’s down on the table.
    “Is that gun registered to you?” I asked Sammy.
    “No,” he said, “none of them are registered. They’re all supposed to be collector’s pieces.”
    “Does that mean they’re not supposed to fire?”
    “Right,” Sammy said. He grabbed his drink and stood up. “Most of them are plugged, like the two you saw yesterday.”
    “But this one actually works?”
    “Yes.”
    “Who knew that?” I asked. “Who knows about your guns?”
    “Just a few people,” Sammy said, “but I trust them. May, Silber, my dad …”
    There was an overstuffed armchair behind me and I decided to sit down. Jerry sat in an identical chair a few feet away. Sammy remained standing, drink in one hand, cigarette in the other, and it looked to me like he was swaying.
    “Sam.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Why don’t you sit down?”
    He stared at me for a moment, then seemed to process what I said and sat on the sofa.
    “Somethin’s wrong here,” I said. “You’re not tellin’ me everything.”
    He hesitated.
    “Come on, Sam. One of your guns goes missin’ and you don’t know it? I don’t buy that.”
    “Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry, man. Yeah, the gun was taken the same time the photos were.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “I’m not sure I know the answer to that, Eddie,” he replied. “Maybe I didn’t think you’d help me if you knew about the gun.”
    “You never reported it missing?”
    “I told you, none of them are registered.”
    I thought a minute, then said, “Okay. Forget it. It doesn’t change anything right now. We still have to deal with this.”
    “You still haven’t called the police?” Sammy asked.
    “No,” I said, “and as far as we know a body hasn’t been found. At least, it wasn’t on the news this morning.”
    “But you’re gonna call ’em?”
    I looked at Jerry, who looked away. I knew his thoughts on the subject.
    “I feel like I have to.”
    “Of course.”
    “It’s gonna be found sooner or later,” I reasoned.
    Sammy nodded, added another stubbed-out butt to the ashtray and lit up a fresh cigarette.
    “What about this?” he asked. “What are