life hasn’t been all that ruinous. And a chance, maybe, to make some sort of amends.”
Justin stared at the old man, saw the devious glint in his wet eyes, tried to fight a smile and lost.
“Amends?”
“Well, most of my jobs you could see the reason behind. Miserable sons of bitches, fat slobs and corporate types. You know, nothing to get all misty about. I even laughed when I drowned a banker in his own marble tub. But your momma, that was something different. Couldn’t see no reason why she got what she got. And she was nice enough to let me use her bathroom.”
“You crapped in our bathroom?”
“I pinched a loaf there, yes I did. A two-flusher for sure. That was why I always felt a bit bad about that job there.”
“You have a kind and gentle heart.”
“So I thought, maybe, as a final gesture, I’d do one more piece of work, just for your mom. I’d take care of whoever it was what set her up in the first place.”
“But you don’t know who it is. You said so yourself.”
“Well, maybe I have myself some clues.”
“Maybe I do too,” said Justin. “And since the killer is already in jail for the rest of his miserable life, maybe I don’t need your amends.”
“If he’s the right one.”
There was something in Birdie Grackle’s smile that hooked Justin’s gaze like a barb hooking skin. “Oh, he’s the right one, all right.”
“Don’t be so sure,” said Birdie. “’Cause Preacher, when he hired me, he let slip with something that says he ain’t.”
“And you can’t wait to tell me.”
“For a price.”
And in that moment a knot in Justin’s gut loosened. He wasn’t facing the fiend who had murdered his mother. All he was facing was a pathetic old man lying through his false teeth. He had figured the old man was lying about the killing from the start, but Justin couldn’t quite figure out why. All the lies ever told in a bar could be distilled into three: I’m not a drunk; I’m not trying to pick your pocket; I’m not looking for meaningless impersonal sex. Justin already knew the old man was a stew, and he hoped to God he wasn’t after sex. Which left Birdie Grackle trying to pick Justin’s pocket, and Justin was curious as hell as to how the old man intended to use his mother’s murder to do that. Maybe he had done it already, what with the drinks and the meal, but Justin sensed someone like Birdie was after more than a meal. And now here it came.
“You want me to hire you to tell me who hired you to kill my mom.”
“That’s part of it.”
“And the other part?”
“To take care of it, like I said.”
“By take care of it you mean…”
“That’s right.”
“And how much will this cost me?”
“Being as I’m half-dead and feeling sentimental, I’m going to give you a discount. Ten thousand flat, plus expenses.”
“Up front?”
“Half now, half on completion.”
“That all?”
“A bargain.”
“I mean you did all this, learned all you had to learn, sought me out for a mere five thousand dollars. It hardly seems worth it, Birdie.”
“Ten thousand.”
“Let’s just talk about the half you want now.”
“Even half ain’t no chicken feed.”
“But still.”
“Well, you know, it’s more the spirit of the thing than the money.”
And that’s when Justin burst out laughing. This whole hit-man act, played by a soused Texas con man with an old-time baseball name, was comical enough. But then to top it off with his self-satisfied mien as he tried to pawn off his moneygrubbing as charity was just too damn rich. The whole show had been worth the price of dinner, and Justin was almost sorry to have to piss on the old man’s well-laid plans.
“What’s so funny?” said Grackle.
“You, Birdie. You’ve worked this up pretty well, I must say, this whole I-killed-your-momma thing. You’ve been digging through the old newspaper accounts, no doubt. But there were a couple of parts you didn’t think out. First, I don’t want to
Justin stared at the old man, saw the devious glint in his wet eyes, tried to fight a smile and lost.
“Amends?”
“Well, most of my jobs you could see the reason behind. Miserable sons of bitches, fat slobs and corporate types. You know, nothing to get all misty about. I even laughed when I drowned a banker in his own marble tub. But your momma, that was something different. Couldn’t see no reason why she got what she got. And she was nice enough to let me use her bathroom.”
“You crapped in our bathroom?”
“I pinched a loaf there, yes I did. A two-flusher for sure. That was why I always felt a bit bad about that job there.”
“You have a kind and gentle heart.”
“So I thought, maybe, as a final gesture, I’d do one more piece of work, just for your mom. I’d take care of whoever it was what set her up in the first place.”
“But you don’t know who it is. You said so yourself.”
“Well, maybe I have myself some clues.”
“Maybe I do too,” said Justin. “And since the killer is already in jail for the rest of his miserable life, maybe I don’t need your amends.”
“If he’s the right one.”
There was something in Birdie Grackle’s smile that hooked Justin’s gaze like a barb hooking skin. “Oh, he’s the right one, all right.”
“Don’t be so sure,” said Birdie. “’Cause Preacher, when he hired me, he let slip with something that says he ain’t.”
“And you can’t wait to tell me.”
“For a price.”
And in that moment a knot in Justin’s gut loosened. He wasn’t facing the fiend who had murdered his mother. All he was facing was a pathetic old man lying through his false teeth. He had figured the old man was lying about the killing from the start, but Justin couldn’t quite figure out why. All the lies ever told in a bar could be distilled into three: I’m not a drunk; I’m not trying to pick your pocket; I’m not looking for meaningless impersonal sex. Justin already knew the old man was a stew, and he hoped to God he wasn’t after sex. Which left Birdie Grackle trying to pick Justin’s pocket, and Justin was curious as hell as to how the old man intended to use his mother’s murder to do that. Maybe he had done it already, what with the drinks and the meal, but Justin sensed someone like Birdie was after more than a meal. And now here it came.
“You want me to hire you to tell me who hired you to kill my mom.”
“That’s part of it.”
“And the other part?”
“To take care of it, like I said.”
“By take care of it you mean…”
“That’s right.”
“And how much will this cost me?”
“Being as I’m half-dead and feeling sentimental, I’m going to give you a discount. Ten thousand flat, plus expenses.”
“Up front?”
“Half now, half on completion.”
“That all?”
“A bargain.”
“I mean you did all this, learned all you had to learn, sought me out for a mere five thousand dollars. It hardly seems worth it, Birdie.”
“Ten thousand.”
“Let’s just talk about the half you want now.”
“Even half ain’t no chicken feed.”
“But still.”
“Well, you know, it’s more the spirit of the thing than the money.”
And that’s when Justin burst out laughing. This whole hit-man act, played by a soused Texas con man with an old-time baseball name, was comical enough. But then to top it off with his self-satisfied mien as he tried to pawn off his moneygrubbing as charity was just too damn rich. The whole show had been worth the price of dinner, and Justin was almost sorry to have to piss on the old man’s well-laid plans.
“What’s so funny?” said Grackle.
“You, Birdie. You’ve worked this up pretty well, I must say, this whole I-killed-your-momma thing. You’ve been digging through the old newspaper accounts, no doubt. But there were a couple of parts you didn’t think out. First, I don’t want to
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