Darling James

Chapter 5-3

Two hours later I got back to Malossini’s house and let myself in. “Boss? You around?”

“I’m in here,” he called from the lounge. I went to meet him and was startled when he came stalking down the hallway holding a gun. “It’s about f*****g time! Is Zolo dead?”

“Yeah, boss.” I eyed the gun, and he put it away.

“Good work.”

“Uh…Mr Malossini?”

“Fuck.” He knew I never called him that unless there were problems. “What went wrong?”

“I didn’t kill him.”

He began to grind his teeth. “But he is dead?”

“Yeah. I saw…” I took a breath, not completely acting. “Yeah.”

“Then I don’t f*****g care who did the fucker in.” He went back into the lounge and filled a glass that was on a table. Then he poured some whisky into a glass for me. “Cheers.”

I touched my glass to his, and while he took a healthy swig, I pretended to sip at it. What I really did was twist my wrist so the contents of the glass tipped down my arm, concealed by my jacket sleeve.

“So.” He splashed another couple of fingers of whisky into his glass, then put the bottle back in the cupboard. “Tell me what happened.”

I licked my lips, not really having to act nervous. “I followed your instructions, Boss. I pretended to call you from the phone just outside the loo. When I got back to the table, I told Mr Zolo that you were running a little late, that he should go on to the restaurant, and you’d meet him there. I know he heard me, because he nodded, but he was looking over at this drunk who was standing near the bar. I touched his arm to get his attention. His eyes were almost crossed from all the beer he had, and he looked confused. ‘You gonna be okay to drive, Mr Zolo?’ I asked him. I know you like me to be polite to all your friends, Boss.”

“Yeah, yeah. What happened then?”

“We walked out to the car park at the back. Well, I walked. He was kinda weaving, and when the night air hit him, I thought it was a tossup as to whether he threw up or keeled over. He had to lean against the wall for a while. He’d really had a skinful.” I grinned, and when I saw Malossini wasn’t amused, I wiped the grin off my face. “The drunk had followed us out, and he looked even more confused than Zolo. ‘Where’d the john go?’ he asked. He had kind of a funny accent—didn’t sound local, y’know? ‘Did somebody steal the john?’ I thought he was ready to cry.”

“I don’t care what you thought, and I don’t care about the f*****g drunk.”

“Right, Boss. Anyroad, the drunk staggered over to the wall near Zolo and fumbled with his fly, like he was gonna take a whiz right there. Zolo, he started to laugh, kinda this high-pitched giggle? The drunk bumped into him. And all of a sudden his laugh changed to a sigh that ended in a hiccough. He fell over, holding his belly, looking kinda surprised. I moved his hands, and geez, boss, it was awful.” It really had been awful. I’d killed men, but I’d never seen…“His guts spilled out into his lap.” I didn’t have to fake the hard swallow. “I turned to tell the drunk to get help, but he was gone.”

“So, the drunk killed him?”

I nodded and set down my empty glass and Malossini seemed satisfied. That the booze hadn’t gone to waste? “Does this mean I don’t get to be your lieutenant, Boss?” I opened my eyes wide, an action sure to make them well with tears.

Malossini stared at me. Was he going to say no, just to see if he could make me cry?

“Nah.” Apparently he’d thought better of it. After all, I was his sister’s husband’s cousin’s son. “You did the best you could. Lemme think about it. Go get some rest now.”

“Ta, Boss.” I grabbed his hand and pumped it up and down. “Ta very much.”

He yanked his hand free and wiped it on his thigh. “Wait! What happened to the body?”

I’d been waiting for him to ask. “I got rid of it. Ain’t likely to be found for a couple of months.”

“Did anyone see you with him?”

“Nah. They was getting too pissed.”

He stared at me for a long minute, then said, “Okay. Go on to bed.”

“’Night, Boss.” I walked down the hall toward my room. I’d already called Mr Trevalyan to inform him about gold doubloons and silver pieces of eight and the death of Juan Zolo, so similar to that of Simmons.

I entered my room and closed the door, wishing I had a bolt I could throw. The way Malossini had been eying me lately, like I was a dessert he couldn’t wait to get his teeth into…

Burdon had said I should let Malossini do whatever he wanted with me. I had a feeling me buggering him would be out of the question; it had been a long time since I’d been buggered, and I was sure he wouldn’t be gentle about it.

I stripped off and got into bed, certain that visions of Zolo with his guts all over the ground would haunt my dreams.

As for Malossini, I had no doubt he’d be dreaming of gold doubloons and pieces of eight.