office window's got that big old bulky air-conditioner, you remember, mounted permanent, and not enough room for nobody to get over it, even was they to break out the reinforced glass . . . which they didn't.
"The detective, name of Hurz—and he's a pretty good old boy, I come to find out, too; he pulled him eight years in the Air Police—he don't think it was no locals broke in, he thinks they was prob'ly down from New York or New Jersey or Deetroit or Boston
or like that. He was thinking and talking about maybe Mafiosos done it"
Fitz nodded. "Well, honey does attract flies . . . and other vermin. And God knows, if we've managed to attract the full attention of most of the serious coin collectors in the world, as we seen to have done, it just stands to reason we might've attracted the attention of some greedy mobster, too. God forbid! But if we have, you can bet on it that you'll be getting more nocturnal visitors of a similar stripe . . . and possibly diurnal, as well. You could well be in some danger, there in that shop alone, Gus."
Gus nodded. "Yeah, Fitz, that's what Hurz thinks, too. So I called up the A.D.T. folks this morning, while he was still there so he could talk at some other guy over there use to be in the Air Force with him. That outfit's gonna be working night and day, this weekend, 'til they gets my shop and my house wired up proper and all. The damn system's gonna be wired every which way from Sunday into their security office and the police station and from the shop into my house, too. It's gonna have the biggest, loud-assest alarms anybody makes, boxes and wires can't nobody get into or cut or nothing, and silent alarm buttons all over the place in both places, even in the crappers and the shower stall.
"I bought me some more guns, too, and put them around in diff rent places easy to get to when I needs to, see. Loaded for bear, one up the fucking spout on ever one of the fuckers, office and home. It's a pure blessing I don't have no kids around, is all I got to say. My old lady, she's a better shot than a lot of men, too.
"Fitz, you might be smart to get you some more firepower, 'cause if a man didn't care how much of a racket he made, he could put a truck, even a big car,
right through your fence or the gate either, you know."
"Oh, no!" Fitz shook his head vehemently and held up both hands, palms toward his friend, as if fending him off "Oh no, Gus, no more guns for me! Hell, thanks to you, my friend, this place is already more like an arsenal than a home. In addition to all the collector guns youve conned me into buying ..."
Tolliver looked a trifle hurt. "But Fitz, boy, them's a investment, a damn sound one, too."
"Yeah?" remarked Fitz, deliberately sounding skeptical. "If they are such a damned good investment, how come you didn't buy the damn things, huh?"
Gus looked and sounded a little sheepish. "Well . . . well, Fitz, it was this way, see: Sary opined that if I brought even one more old antique gun that you couldn't shoot into the house . . . Well, anyway, Fitz, she's been a dang good wife to me and I tries to keep her happy and all, but ..."
"But, as I was saying," Fitz interjected, not caring to again hear extolled the many virtues and few but onerous failings of the widow Gus had met and wooed and won soon after his retirement from the army, "plus all those damned muzzle loaders, the Lugers— all nineteen of the things!—some hunting rifles and shotguns I've picked up on my own, the Garand and a twelve-gauge riot gun, I've got two magnum revolvers, two automatic pistols and a Ruger carbine. Oh, and not to forget that damned undernourished howitzer you brought out here two weeks ago, either. Tell me, have you ever fired that monstrosity, Gus?
"No? Well, I did . . . just once, on the day after you left it here. Gus, it was Monday night before I could hear normally again. And it was Wednesday before I was dead certain my shoulder and my clavi-
cle were both still intact. You
"The detective, name of Hurz—and he's a pretty good old boy, I come to find out, too; he pulled him eight years in the Air Police—he don't think it was no locals broke in, he thinks they was prob'ly down from New York or New Jersey or Deetroit or Boston
or like that. He was thinking and talking about maybe Mafiosos done it"
Fitz nodded. "Well, honey does attract flies . . . and other vermin. And God knows, if we've managed to attract the full attention of most of the serious coin collectors in the world, as we seen to have done, it just stands to reason we might've attracted the attention of some greedy mobster, too. God forbid! But if we have, you can bet on it that you'll be getting more nocturnal visitors of a similar stripe . . . and possibly diurnal, as well. You could well be in some danger, there in that shop alone, Gus."
Gus nodded. "Yeah, Fitz, that's what Hurz thinks, too. So I called up the A.D.T. folks this morning, while he was still there so he could talk at some other guy over there use to be in the Air Force with him. That outfit's gonna be working night and day, this weekend, 'til they gets my shop and my house wired up proper and all. The damn system's gonna be wired every which way from Sunday into their security office and the police station and from the shop into my house, too. It's gonna have the biggest, loud-assest alarms anybody makes, boxes and wires can't nobody get into or cut or nothing, and silent alarm buttons all over the place in both places, even in the crappers and the shower stall.
"I bought me some more guns, too, and put them around in diff rent places easy to get to when I needs to, see. Loaded for bear, one up the fucking spout on ever one of the fuckers, office and home. It's a pure blessing I don't have no kids around, is all I got to say. My old lady, she's a better shot than a lot of men, too.
"Fitz, you might be smart to get you some more firepower, 'cause if a man didn't care how much of a racket he made, he could put a truck, even a big car,
right through your fence or the gate either, you know."
"Oh, no!" Fitz shook his head vehemently and held up both hands, palms toward his friend, as if fending him off "Oh no, Gus, no more guns for me! Hell, thanks to you, my friend, this place is already more like an arsenal than a home. In addition to all the collector guns youve conned me into buying ..."
Tolliver looked a trifle hurt. "But Fitz, boy, them's a investment, a damn sound one, too."
"Yeah?" remarked Fitz, deliberately sounding skeptical. "If they are such a damned good investment, how come you didn't buy the damn things, huh?"
Gus looked and sounded a little sheepish. "Well . . . well, Fitz, it was this way, see: Sary opined that if I brought even one more old antique gun that you couldn't shoot into the house . . . Well, anyway, Fitz, she's been a dang good wife to me and I tries to keep her happy and all, but ..."
"But, as I was saying," Fitz interjected, not caring to again hear extolled the many virtues and few but onerous failings of the widow Gus had met and wooed and won soon after his retirement from the army, "plus all those damned muzzle loaders, the Lugers— all nineteen of the things!—some hunting rifles and shotguns I've picked up on my own, the Garand and a twelve-gauge riot gun, I've got two magnum revolvers, two automatic pistols and a Ruger carbine. Oh, and not to forget that damned undernourished howitzer you brought out here two weeks ago, either. Tell me, have you ever fired that monstrosity, Gus?
"No? Well, I did . . . just once, on the day after you left it here. Gus, it was Monday night before I could hear normally again. And it was Wednesday before I was dead certain my shoulder and my clavi-
cle were both still intact. You
Similar Books
