Six Crime Stories Volume One

Who Unkilled Johnny Murder?-8

Thanks to Vera, a friend of mine and member of the ‘Sociation (she does puppet shows on Royal Street on weekends), Starbulk and I slipped into the Audobon Aquarium without having to pay admission. The crowd was light, and we soon spotted Corinna hanging around the penguin tank upstairs.

Unfortunately, she spotted us at about the same time. I don’t know whether she recognized one of us or caught a vibe off us or was just plain jumpy, but she hightailed it.

Without a word, Starbulk sprinted off after her. I was just about to follow when someone else caught my eye: Hamhock Coubillon, a low-level mob flunky, standing over by the shark tank trying not to look suspicious. He managed about as well as one of those sharks would have if it had hopped out of the tank and plopped down beside him.

Hamhock was watching Starbulk light out after Corinna, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was there because of her. I guessed he might just be the bigger fish of the two, so I left Corinna to Starbulk and meandered on over toward Hamhock.

I got about three steps before he spotted me. It took about a second for him to recognize me, decide I had business with him, and hotfoot it in the direction Corinna and Starbulk had gone.

I took off after him, confident I had a shot at catching up. Hamhock had a jump on me, but he weighed at least as much as I did; for once, my two-hundred-ninety-nine-and-a-half pounds weren’t a handicap.

Of course, though our physiques were about equal, Hamhock had an advantage in sheer nastiness. As he barreled through the seahorse exhibit and past the otter tank, he grabbed anyone who got in his way and threw them down in front of me. Not being a vicious son of a b***h like him, I had to slow down and catch each one, falling further behind.

Hamhock plowed through the Mississippi River habitat, thundering past the white gator and the bayou and riverbank mockups. Just when I thought I was gaining on him, he picked up a little kid and heaved him at me like a football, forcing me to scramble for the pass so the kid wouldn’t crash into one of the tanks.

I felt bad about just handing the kid off to his screaming mother and running away, but I was determined to land Hamhock. His running away suggested to me he had something to hide...more than usual, that is.

By the time I’d bounded downstairs, I’d lost sight of Hamhock...but there was only one route to the exit, so I followed it. When I saw some people getting helped off the floor in the jellyfish room, I figured I wasn’t too far behind my quarry.

Hustling out past the giant Gulf of Mexico tanks, I caught a glimpse of Hamhock’s fat ass through the glass, motivating for the exit on the other side. As I circled the tanks in pursuit, I saw him drop a woman in the doorway for good measure on his way out.

Pushing past the woman as she bellowed at me for not helping her, I bowled through the exit and into the lobby. Hamhock was already through the main doors and chugging over the plaza outside by the time I got midway across the lobby floor.

But I kept after him. I was soaking wet and puffing like an asthmatic elephant, but I made up my mind I was going to get him...and I did.

Hamhock stumbled on the other end of the plaza and just about took a header. Arms windmilling like crazy, he managed to keep his feet...but he tripped on the edge of the Moonwalk along the river and almost went down again. This time, he had to stop to regain his balance before charging off...which gave me the time I needed to close the gap and make contact, slamming all two-hundred-ninety-nine-and-a-half pounds of me into his equally massive bulk.

I rammed him back against the railing overlooking the Mississippi, which at first seemed like a good idea. Then, he pasted me in the jaw and wrestled me around so I was the one with my back to the river.

Breaking bones on a daily basis gave him an edge in the strength department, and he started forcing me over the railing toward the surging waters below. I brought my knee up hard into his groin, but it didn’t seem to faze him, and he took advantage of my lifting a foot off the pavement to shove me back further.

Then, in the middle of fighting for my life, I caught a whiff of daffodils and antifreeze.

Two tweed-sleeved arms shot from behind Hamhock and under his armpits, then pumped straight up and back, hands interlacing behind his head. Hamhock released me and wobbled backward, thrashing to escape the full nelson in which he was locked.

Now, Hamhock being the big boy that he is, I would’ve expected him to break free, but Starbulk held tight. Hamhock wrenched around every which way, but couldn’t get loose...and then Starbulk tightened up his grip and Hamhock started groaning.

“Settle down, big fella,” said Starbulk, squeezing harder. “I promise, it’ll hurt worse if you don’t.”

Hamhock grunted in pain. “You’re makin’ a huge mistake,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’re screwin’ with a made guy here!”

“Horseshit,” I said, able to talk again now that I’d finally caught my breath. “You ain’t made now an’ you never will be, you dumb stooge.”

Hamhock sneered. “I’m made, all right. Just ask Gino Laplaca.”

“Might as well ask Jimmy Hoffa,” I said. “Neither one of ‘em’s likely to turn up anytime soon.”

“Wrong,” said Hamhock. “Gino’s back, an’ I’m workin’ for him.”

I chuckled like I was laughing it off, but Hamhock had my attention. Laplaca, the biggest wiseguy in town, had disappeared three months ago, right before he was due to testify against some friends of his; everyone figured he’d been kidnapped and killed to keep his mouth shut. Seemed like kind of a coincidence that I’d been looking for Johnny Murder, and now Hamhock and I were talking about another bad guy who had supposedly returned from the great beyond.

“Workin’ doin’ what?” I said.

Hamhock just grinned. Starbulk tightened his grip, but the grin stayed put. Hamhock wouldn’t say another word.

When we finally gave up questioning him and Starbulk knocked him out with some kind of pinch on a pressure point, I gave ol’ Hamhock a fist in the gut on his way down. I didn’t have to, and I’d probably pay for it later, but he deserved it...and the guy posing as Johnny Murder wasn’t around for me to hit at that particular moment.

“What happened to Corinna?” I said as Starbulk dusted off and straightened his tweed jacket. “You lose her?”

Starbulk shook his head and hiked a thumb at a nearby lamp post. Corinna stood with her arms around it, handcuffs locked around her wrists.

“Never let it be said that I’m not a pro when it comes to chasing women,” he said with a wink.

“Better get the cuffs off,” I said, “an’ we better get her outta here. We’re attractin’ attention.” People were slowly approaching from down the Moonwalk and across the aquarium plaza; I knew it wouldn’t be long before the cops made an appearance.

“Where to?” said Starbulk, producing a key from his jacket pocket and unlocking the cuffs.

“The one place no one would think to look for a hottie like her,” I said. “My apartment.”