Dead Wood - By Dani Amore Page 0,30

jukebox just outside the door to the bar and went to the men’s room. He stepped inside, shut the door and stood with his back against it as he slid the Ruger automatic out of his jacket’s inside pocket. He lifted the silencer from the other jacket pocket and quickly screwed it onto the end of the pistol. There was only one stall in the bathroom and no urinal. The Spook stood with his back against the door as he listened to the man finish up. The stall door swung open and the accountant appeared. He looked up at the Spook, then away, then back again. An “o” formed on his mouth as he saw the gun. He started to raise his hands.

The Spook shot him twice in the face.

The man fell back into the stall and the Spook stepped in, placed the barrel of the gun against the man’s skull and fired once more. The Spook then slipped the gun back into his pocket and hoisted the dead man onto the toilet and shut the stall door.

From the doorway, it looked like just another guy taking a crap.

The Spook walked back to the door, picked up his guitar case and stepped outside. As the door swung shut, he heard the faint voice of the obese woman singing “Nobody Knows You When You’re Down And Out.”

Ain’t that the truth, he thought.

Eighteen

I attended a seminar once. It was hosted by a private investigator and believe me, I know a write-off when I see it. Anyway, the seminar was put on by a woman from Los Angeles who claimed to work for celebrities and had, at least according to herself, been involved with some extremely big, high-profile cases. I suppose when an actress insures her left ass cheek for five million dollars, they probably hire a lot of security personnel.

I ponied up the three hundred bucks for an afternoon of learning the tricks of the trade from one of the self-proclaimed experts in my field. Personally, I thought the woman was worthy of investigation herself, but I can be rather skeptical. And as a con, wouldn’t it be a hoot to pull the wool over the eyes of a room full of wannabe private investigators? Reference check, anyone?

Anyway, I remember laughing out loud at one of her points. She had quizzed the audience about what abilities we felt were the most important for a P.I. to possess. The crowd threw out self-delusional concepts such as courage, tenacity, and perceptiveness.

It turned out the correct answer was the ability to listen.

I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. It just sounded so New Age to me. I mean, I understood her point and all, but I just pictured myself in my office, acting like Bob Newhart. A client tells me his wife is cheating on him and I say, “Go with that. How does that make you feel? I’m listening, friend.”

Listening? Come on. I would have guessed the most important ability was to be able to photograph both faces of two people fucking.

Of course, like so many things in life, over time the concept kind of grew on me. The more cases I had, the more times I realized that something I’d heard ended up playing a pretty big role in the case. So maybe the afternoon had been worth a little more than a sore ass and few glasses of watered down Coke.

I thought of the seminar when I realized that something Nevada Hornsby had said to me, that hadn’t registered then, was now simmering on my brain. At the time, I hadn’t really been listening. But now, I knew I had. Because he had told me something important.

It was just before he slammed the boat into gear. He’d said something about we’d be out there for eighteen hours and that I would have to work because someone had called in sick. Now I searched my brain for the name. Had he said a name? I thought about it, cursing that hotshot from L.A. I never should have laughed at her. Karma.

Rudy.

No, that didn’t sound right. But it had definitely started with an R. I was sure of that.

Ralphie.

Rodney.

Randy.

Randy.

That was it.

Randy had called in sick the day the boat blows up and everyone but a scared P.I. dies. I’ve always been wary of coincidences and that was just too glaring for me to take in stride. Maybe I’d host a seminar one day and make that my big point.

Fortunately, during my questioning with the