Thieving Weasels - Billy Taylor Page 0,65
is the faster they treat you the better.”
“So I’ve heard.”
He took a step closer. “What about that other thing? Everything work out okay?”
“Check your garbage can,” I said.
“What?”
“The garbage can in your room. Go look inside it.”
His eyes grew wide. “Why?”
“Because there’s only one glass there. Remember when you slapped me across the face? You were so full of yourself you didn’t notice I took your glass with me. A friend of mine has it now, and it’s got your fingerprints all over it. So listen up. If anything funny happens to me—and I mean anything—that glass and the gun that did the job go straight to the cops. Capisce?”
Mr. DeNunsio glared at me.
“So where’s the picture?” he asked after a moment.
“I didn’t see the point in taking it.”
“Why?”
“Because my cousin Roy saw everything. You want proof? Go ask him.”
The paramedics wheeled my mother out of the room, and I slapped Mr. DeNunsio on the back. “Thanks for the anisette, Chaz.”
I followed the paramedics down the hallway and straight out the front door. There was an ambulance waiting, and I watched as they rolled my mother inside. I climbed in beside her, and the paramedics closed the door and pulled out. There was an IV bag hanging from a pole on the gurney, and I followed the tube down to my mother. She was staring at me with large, questioning eyes, and I smiled.
“Hello, Dolores,” I said.
She blinked.
“That’s your name, isn’t it? Dolores Spencer? Or should I say your good name?”
She said nothing, but I could tell she wanted to.
“Just so you know, I have it all. The license, the passport, the Social Security card. Don’t worry; it’s all in a safe place. In fact, it’s in the same place as a pair of Uncle Wonderful’s false teeth, a glass with DeNunsio’s fingerprints, and the gun that killed Fat Nicky. That’s right. If one of us goes down, we all do. Any questions?”
She didn’t answer, and I leaned in closer.
“And just so we’re clear, after we get to the hospital, you and I are finished. If you try to contact me in any way—and I mean so much as a birthday card—I’m giving that package to the police. Got it?”
She still didn’t answer, and I was beginning to think that she really did have a stroke. Just to make sure I said, “And in case you’re wondering, I’m the one who stole Grandpa Patsy’s money. I’ve had it in a storage locker upstate the entire time.”
“You son of a bitch.”
“What’s that?” I asked, putting a hand to my ear.
“You heard me,” she growled as she grabbed my throat. It happened so quickly I had no time to defend myself, and the paramedics in the front of the ambulance didn’t hear a thing. Her thumbs dug deep into my Adam’s apple, and I tried to pry her fingers away, but my hands were still useless from the cold. She was killing me. I couldn’t believe it. My own mother was killing me.
Things were getting fuzzy fast. I thought about praying, but decided against it. I had chosen my path, and it was time to pay for my choices. I kept my mind focused on Claire and tried to picture what it would have been like growing old together. I saw beaches and sunsets, horses and rainbows. Yes, I know it sounds corny, but I was too busy dying to paint a Mona Lisa. Everything went black, and just when I thought my life was over, someone grabbed my ankles and pulled me out of the ambulance.
“Are you okay?” a paramedic asked, snapping an ammonia capsule under my nose.
“What?” I replied, still not fully conscious.
“I said, are you okay?”
I heard my mother scream, and everything came rushing back. I scrambled to my feet and peered inside the ambulance. A second paramedic was strapping my mother to the gurney, and she was kicking and screaming like an insane woman.
“Will you look at that,” I said with a cough. “Is that the world’s fastest stroke recovery, or what?”
31
I JAMMED THE GUN I GOT AT RED LOBSTER INTO THE BACK of my pants and climbed the stairs to Roy’s apartment. My hands were throbbing and my throat felt like I’d gargled with drain cleaner, but I was alive. Or at least I was for a few more minutes. I still wasn’t sure what to do about my cousin. Half of me wanted to shoot him, and half of me wanted to give him a high