held up his thumb and index finger as though pinching a bug. “A teensy- weensy taste. And then when the time is right, I’ll give them a little more. And then a little more after that. I’ve got the tools and the smarts to keep the game going for a very long time. You see, Mikey and Chuckles, even when I’m confined I can orchestrate a game to amuse myself.
“So please, don’t even—for one second—try some of your spooky cop talk in an attempt to scare me about the horrors of prison…because I’m not going there. Somebody of my stature belongs under a microscope; not behind bars. And we live in a sick enough society with a fucked-up-enough legal system to make it happen. And we both know that, don’t we?”
Someone cleared their throat to Arty’s right. He turned his head. Amy and Patrick were standing side by side, a big smile on both their faces.
“What the hell are you two smiling at?”
74
“Officer, would you mind giving us a minute here?” Henry said. “Go grab a soda or a coffee or something.”
The officer shrugged, and then nodded to both Amy and Patrick on his way out.
Arty shifted in his bed and pulled at his cuffs again, metal on metal clinking. “What the fuck do you want?”
Patrick said, “Just wanted to touch base.”
“Touch base?” He looked at Henry. “What the hell is this?”
Detective Henry said nothing. Arty turned back to the Lamberts. “I’ve got nothing to say to you two.”
“No?” Amy said.
“No. You murdered my brother.”
Patrick laughed. “Right…and it wasn’t justified or anything.”
“No, it wasn’t. You two should have just known your role and accepted your fate. You’re fucking peasants that were put here for our enjoyment. Period. Taking your life is akin to thinning a menial herd. You taking my brother’s life is tantamount to blasphemy.”
“That’s the way you see it?” Amy asked.
“That’s the way I know it, Amy,” he said. “I’m surprised you even need to hear this again. I’m quite sure I made myself clear the first time around. What were you hoping for, a moment of regret now that my brother and mother are gone?”
Amy shook her head. “No, I knew better than to hope for something like that.”
“Well good for you. Maybe you’re not the stupid little cunt I thought you were.”
Patrick took a step closer to the bed and Henry twitched. Patrick held up a hand and nodded an apology.
Arty laughed. “See? Even in here you’re powerless, Patrick. I just tug those little strings of yours and you dance like the big predictable puppet you are.”
“You call me powerless, yet here you are,” Patrick said. “And your brother is likely room temperature right about now.”
Arty snorted. “You keep thinking whatever you want to think, hotshot.”
“I will, thank you.”
Arty looked at Henry again. “Alright, are we done here? I still don’t know what the hell this is—”
“Your mother’s alive,” Amy said.
Arty jerked his head towards Amy. He studied her hard, as if trying to read a bluff. “I call bullshit,” he eventually said.
“Call whatever you want,” Patrick said. “It’s true.”
Arty went back to Henry. “Is it?”
Henry closed his eyes and nodded once.
“I want to see her.”
“What makes you think she’d want to see you?” Amy asked.
Arty ignored her. He kept his stare on Henry. “Detective Henry, I want to see her.”
Patrick’s turn now. “You shot her, asshole. You shot her with the intention of killing her. Why would she want to see you?”
Arty turned back to Patrick. “I was freeing her, you ignorant ass. I was ending her suffering. It’s what she would have wanted.”
“Nah,” Patrick said. “You did it for yourself. It’s what you wanted.”
“You don’t know shit.”
“Oh I know some things,” Patrick said with a smirk.
“Whatever.” Arty looked back at Henry. “I want to see my mother.”
“She’s unconscious, Arty,” Amy said. “Nobody knows when she’ll come around.”
“Shut up! Nobody’s talking to you! Detective Henry! I want to see my mother. She’ll want to see me. She’ll want to see her only living son the second she wakes up.” He shot a quick glare at the couple on the word living.
“What if she doesn’t remember you again?” Amy asked.
“She will.”
“Maybe,” Patrick said. “Maybe not. She might tell you something you don’t want to hear.”
“I am her son; her flesh and blood. She’ll remember me again.”
“Then why did you shoot her?” Patrick asked with a chuckle. “If you’re so sure she’ll remember you again, then why did you shoot her? Why free her?”
“I don’t have to