could a bullet have gone through the Ferrari windshield?
Fat Frank made a few sharp deductions: The bullet would have come from a gun. And that gun would have been carried by a person. And a person who could have fired that gun to put that bullet through the Ferrari windshield would have had to be standing inside his warehouse at the time. But no one could get inside Fat Frank’s warehouse except Fat Frank, and obviously Fat Frank hadn’t shot his own car, so...
He jumped and squealed, pig-like, at the sound of gunshot. Another bullet hole appeared next to the first.
Fat Frank whirled around. “You!” He was trying to sound menacing. He sounded more paranoid. “I should have known it would be you, Jill Branch!”
“So you know my real name,” Jill said from the shadows under the stairs. The gun in her hand was smoking. “I didn’t give you my real name when I moved into your apartments, Frank. How did you find out who I am?”
“Look what you’ve done!” he said in a high-pitched whine, gesturing at the twin bullet holes.
“You’re avoiding my question, Frank.”
“It wasn’t enough to shoot it once, was it? You had to go ahead and—!”
Another shot echoed deafeningly. This time the windshield exploded into shards.
Fat Frank covered his head and whimpered.
“Talk to me, Frank. I already know what you did. I just want to hear it from your own lips, learn a few details. Like who you’re working for.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
This time she put three holes in the sleek yellow door.
“Stop it!” Fat Frank was clenching his fists and jumping up and down as he yelled. “What do you think you’re doing? And how did you get in here, anyway?”
Jill stepped out of the shadows. She was still wearing the gray trousers they’d prescribed for her back at GoCom. “Let’s just say I’m good at getting in and out of places I’m not supposed to. Now talk. Who hired you to help track me down?”
“I...I can’t say,” he stammered.
A bullet whistled past him and took out the Ferrari’s passenger window.
“Hey, quit it! You’re trigger happy, no problem. Just shoot at something less valuable, will you?”
She shrugged and aimed at Fat Frank.
“Whoa! Whoa!” he sputtered, cowering.
“Talk.”
“All right, all right! I don’t know who they were. They showed me your picture, told me your real name. I said, yeah, you lived here, all right. But you’re a tough one to get a hold of. I suggested bugging your suit. That’s how they were gonna track you down.” He scratched his head. “By the way, why did they want to track you down?”
She gestured at the style-less gray pants. “You don’t recognize the material? Please, Frank, I’m sure you’ve been to jail a time or two.”
“Well, yeah, but I had to give the pants back when...” His eyes widened, and he cursed and shook his head.
“Why did you do it, Frank?”
“They were persuasive people!”
“Persuasive like they offered you a lot of money?”
“Persuasive like they were gonna throw my butt in the slammer if I didn’t help.”
“The police?”
“I don’t know. They didn’t seem like police.”
“No idea at all who they were?”
Frank shook his head insistently. “That’s all I know, I swear!...So why’d they want to track you down, anyways?”
“No more questions, Frank.”
“And how’d you get out of jail?”
The next bullet took off the driver’s side rear-view mirror.
“Okay, no more questions! Sheesh.”
Jill took the empty clip out of the pistol and pulled out a new one. “I need a favor.”
“A favor? You break into my storage and shoot up my car and you want a favor?”
The new clip clicked into place.
“Fine. A favor. Go ahead, tell me.”
“First of all, our relationship as landlord and tenant will have to end.”
“It’s a real shame.”
“Isn’t it? And
Fat Frank made a few sharp deductions: The bullet would have come from a gun. And that gun would have been carried by a person. And a person who could have fired that gun to put that bullet through the Ferrari windshield would have had to be standing inside his warehouse at the time. But no one could get inside Fat Frank’s warehouse except Fat Frank, and obviously Fat Frank hadn’t shot his own car, so...
He jumped and squealed, pig-like, at the sound of gunshot. Another bullet hole appeared next to the first.
Fat Frank whirled around. “You!” He was trying to sound menacing. He sounded more paranoid. “I should have known it would be you, Jill Branch!”
“So you know my real name,” Jill said from the shadows under the stairs. The gun in her hand was smoking. “I didn’t give you my real name when I moved into your apartments, Frank. How did you find out who I am?”
“Look what you’ve done!” he said in a high-pitched whine, gesturing at the twin bullet holes.
“You’re avoiding my question, Frank.”
“It wasn’t enough to shoot it once, was it? You had to go ahead and—!”
Another shot echoed deafeningly. This time the windshield exploded into shards.
Fat Frank covered his head and whimpered.
“Talk to me, Frank. I already know what you did. I just want to hear it from your own lips, learn a few details. Like who you’re working for.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
This time she put three holes in the sleek yellow door.
“Stop it!” Fat Frank was clenching his fists and jumping up and down as he yelled. “What do you think you’re doing? And how did you get in here, anyway?”
Jill stepped out of the shadows. She was still wearing the gray trousers they’d prescribed for her back at GoCom. “Let’s just say I’m good at getting in and out of places I’m not supposed to. Now talk. Who hired you to help track me down?”
“I...I can’t say,” he stammered.
A bullet whistled past him and took out the Ferrari’s passenger window.
“Hey, quit it! You’re trigger happy, no problem. Just shoot at something less valuable, will you?”
She shrugged and aimed at Fat Frank.
“Whoa! Whoa!” he sputtered, cowering.
“Talk.”
“All right, all right! I don’t know who they were. They showed me your picture, told me your real name. I said, yeah, you lived here, all right. But you’re a tough one to get a hold of. I suggested bugging your suit. That’s how they were gonna track you down.” He scratched his head. “By the way, why did they want to track you down?”
She gestured at the style-less gray pants. “You don’t recognize the material? Please, Frank, I’m sure you’ve been to jail a time or two.”
“Well, yeah, but I had to give the pants back when...” His eyes widened, and he cursed and shook his head.
“Why did you do it, Frank?”
“They were persuasive people!”
“Persuasive like they offered you a lot of money?”
“Persuasive like they were gonna throw my butt in the slammer if I didn’t help.”
“The police?”
“I don’t know. They didn’t seem like police.”
“No idea at all who they were?”
Frank shook his head insistently. “That’s all I know, I swear!...So why’d they want to track you down, anyways?”
“No more questions, Frank.”
“And how’d you get out of jail?”
The next bullet took off the driver’s side rear-view mirror.
“Okay, no more questions! Sheesh.”
Jill took the empty clip out of the pistol and pulled out a new one. “I need a favor.”
“A favor? You break into my storage and shoot up my car and you want a favor?”
The new clip clicked into place.
“Fine. A favor. Go ahead, tell me.”
“First of all, our relationship as landlord and tenant will have to end.”
“It’s a real shame.”
“Isn’t it? And
Similar Books
