My Gun Has Bullets (33 page)

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Authors: Lee Goldberg

Tags: #Mystery

BOOK: My Gun Has Bullets
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It seemed Don DeBono wasn't the only person Delbert had underestimated. The time for subtlety was gone. It was going to be St. Valentine's Day in television land.
"I have some errands to run," Delbert said. "When I get back, you and I are going to have another little talk."
And with that, Delbert marched out. Eddie watched him go, and silently prayed Otto and Burt ran into him first.
CHAPTER THIRTY
I
t was about ten a.m., and Sabrina was finally beginning to fall asleep when her phone rang. She grabbed it and heard a groggy, thick-tongued voice on the other end.
"Sabrina?"
"Who is it?" she asked.
"It's me, Charlie."
If it was, he had a sock in his mouth. "Are you drunk?"
"I wish I was, maybe I'd feel better." Charlie was still in his bed at the Gaylord Motor Inn, his left arm swollen and pounding with pain, his hand numb. The night before had seemed like some twisted nightmare, until he awoke on his back, the sweat-soaked sheets clinging to his skin, his bandaged arm propped up on pillows.
"I had a hell of a night," he said, "but I'll tell you about that when I see you."
"Where are you?"
"A dive motel off the Ventura Freeway, but never mind that. The important thing is, I'm out of jail and I think I found the solution to my problem."
"Our
problem," she said. "We're in this together."
He couldn't help smiling to himself, despite the pain he was in. "Okay, our problem."
She hesitated, wondering whether this was the right time to bring up what she had done last night.
"I had a hell of a night myself," she ventured.
"I saw."
He said it so straightforwardly, she couldn't discern his attitude. "Do you think I made a mistake?"
Did he? he asked himself. Could he really condemn her for trying to salvage some small piece of her career while she had the chance?
"No, why should I?"
"Because I sold out, because I took part in a show that pandered to the lowest common denominator."
Charlie thought about it for a moment. "How is that different from doing
Miss Agatha
or
My Gun Has Bullets?"
"I did it for the money," she said. "I did it to save my career. I did it because I was scared and alone."
"Hey, you couldn't have been alone," he replied. "We're in this together, remember?"
She laughed, feeling better already. "How soon can you get here?"
"Give me about an hour, I've got to wrap my arm up in a trash bag and take a shower."
"You have to
what?"
"It'll all make sense when you see me."
After Sabrina hung up, she lay in bed, trying to decide whether to stay where she was and maybe catch a few minutes of sleep and be all warm and cuddly in bed when he arrived, or take an invigorating shower and greet Charlie awake and clean.
She opted for the shower and went into the bathroom to run the water, thereby proving it's the little choices in life that often have the biggest consequences. The sound of the shower running killed any chance she had of hearing her front door opening, and Delbert Skaggs slipping inside her house.
He took a moment to admire her colonial-style furnishings and her sharp eye for interior design as he screwed the silencer on his gun. The native pine drop-leaf dining table went well with the open-beam ceilings. He'd try not to get too much blood on the walls—it would be a shame to soil the fine knotty pine cabinetry and moldings.
As he was making his way down the hall to her bedroom, outside the house and across the street Otto and Burt were sitting in their truck, the engine idling.
They had followed Delbert here, and watched him enter the house a moment ago. Now they were wrestling with the issue of just how to kill him. They were determined not to mess this up the way they had with Boo Boo.
"It has to look like an accident," Otto said.
Burt studied Sabrina's tiny, one-story, cottage-style house, with its bay window and small porch.
"What if a giant boulder fell from a cliff and smashed the house?"
Otto gave Burt a look. "We don't have a boulder."
"We could get one," Burt replied.
"We don't have a cliff," Otto said.
"Fine, shoot down my ideas. That's easy." Burt argued. "Let's see
you
come up with something."
"Okay, what if a runaway train veered off the tracks and plowed into the house?"
"We don't have a train," Burt said. "Or tracks. See how easy it is to be negative?"
"But we have a
truck,"
Otto pointed out. "What if a drunk driver lost control of his car and smashed into the house?"
"We don't have a drunk driver," Burt grinned, just being difficult.
Otto grinned back. "Hand me a beer."
Burt reached under the seat for a beer, popped it open for his buddy, and handed it to him. Otto opened his mouth, tossed his head back, and poured the entire beer down his throat, crumpled the can, and threw it out the window.
"A buzz ought to do," Otto said.
With a deep belch, Otto revved the engine, jammed the car into drive, and floored it.
Sabrina Bishop was naked, about to step into the shower, when she suddenly had the overwhelming sensation that she was not alone. She stepped into the bedroom and saw a shadow in the hall.
"Charlie?" she said.
Delbert Skaggs stood in the hallway, about to answer her with a bullet, when he heard screeching tires outside. He looked back just as a truck burst through the living room window in an explosion of wood and glass.
The truck roared through the house, demolishing one wall after another, finally hurling through the sliding glass door and skidding to a halt in the backyard.
Otto and Burt jumped out of their crumpled truck and shook bits of the windshield off their bodies, then turned to admire their path of destruction. The gutted house barely stood, swaying and creaking, bits of plaster and glass raining down on the rubble. A geyser of water shot up where the shower used to be.
"Too cool," Burt declared.
"Let's check it out," Otto said.
They ran into the house, dodging falling rafters and shards of glass, looking for signs of carnage. They didn't have to look far. The hallway had collapsed on Delbert, all they could see was his bloody hand peeking out from under the rubble. Burt stomped on it for good measure.
"Maybe we should cut it off and take it with us as proof," Burt suggested.
The front wall suddenly collapsed, opening the interior of the house to the street. Any second now, neighbors and police would be showing up.
"Forget it." Otto sniffed the air. He could smell gas, and based on recent experience, he knew it wasn't Burt. "We better hustle our bustles."
They were turning to leave when Burt suddenly grabbed Otto by the arm. "Do you see what I see?"
Otto followed Burt's gaze into what remained of the bedroom. The walls had caved in on the bed, which propped them up just enough to save Sabrina's life. She lay unconscious on the floor, naked and bloody, covered with a thin layer of plaster dust.
"Yeah," Otto replied. "A fringe benefit."
Otto and Burt rushed over to her, slid her out from under the rubble, carried her to the truck, tossed her onto the bed, and covered her with an oily tarp.
Then they climbed into the truck, slammed their doors, and peeled out, smashing through the fence into the alley, their tires squealing as they charged off.
# # #
Charlie knew something was wrong as he turned the corner, steering the rental car with his good hand. People were standing on their lawns and sitting on their porches, staring up the street, where a section had been cordoned off with yellow police tape and officers were herding a crowd away.
He pulled over to the curb, got out of the car, and jogged up the sidewalk, dodging people going in the opposite direction.
Charlie ducked underneath the tape and ran down the center of the street, terrified that he'd see a coroner's wagon in front of Sabrina's house. Instead, he saw a lone police car, its lights flashing. Her house looked as if it had been hit by a hurricane.
He was heading for it when an officer grabbed him by the arm and spun him around.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" the officer yelled.
Charlie shook free, but the officer blocked his path.
"Turn around," the officer demanded. "We're evacuating the area."
"I've got a friend in there," Charlie shouted.
"Not anymore you don't," the officer said. ''The house is empty."
Charlie tried to push past him, but it wasn't easy with just one good arm. "I have to be sure."
The idea that Sabrina might be hurt because he hadn't anticipated she might be a target, because
he'd been too late,
was too much to stand.
"I'm sure." The officer pushed him back. "Now get the hell out of here, there's a gas leak and—"
Just then the house exploded, knocking them to the ground and belching a tremendous fireball into the air that showered the street in flaming debris.
Charlie scrambled out from under the dazed officer and stared at the burning house, the flames spreading to the homes on either side. Charlie was also burning, the rage inside him so strong it was all he could do not to strangle the first person he saw.
They had gone too far. It wasn't a question any more of keeping himself out of jail, it was all about making them pay. If Sabrina was hurt, they would pay with their lives, regardless of the law.
He was Derek Thorne now, a rogue cop meting out his own brand of justice, and it felt right. Charlie marched back to his car, oblivious to the crowds running to the flames, the sound of sirens in the distance. He had to save Sabrina. It was the only thing that mattered.
He got in the Chevy, jammed the car into reverse, and slammed on the brakes. The car fish-tailed to face the opposite direction, then he sped off, weaving through the traffic until he found a pay phone.
The car jumped the curb and slammed into the phone booth, shattering the glass and nearly toppling it to the sidewalk. Charlie stomped through the broken glass, dropped a quarter in the slot, and dialled the studio. Eddie Planet wasn't there. Charlie dropped another quarter in the slot and called him at home.
Eddie answered the phone on the first ring, his voice cracking. "Hello?"
"I'm coming for you," Charlie said, "and if she's hurt, you're dead."
It was what Eddie had feared, but it was trivial in comparison to the gun a horribly disfigured Delbert held to Eddie's temple.
Eddie covered the phone, glanced desperately at Delbert, and stammered, "What do I say?"
Delbert stood next to him, his nose crushed and his forehead slashed open, wiping the blood out of his eyes with the back of his mangled left hand. His entire body was caked with blood and plaster, his right ear held in place by a clump of matted hair and one thin membrane. And yet, as bad as he looked, Eddie didn't doubt the killer's resolve, or his fury.
''Tell him to fuck off," Delbert demanded.
"But—"
Delbert cocked the trigger. Eddie wet his pants and quivered as he spoke.
"Fuck off," Eddie said unconvincingly into the phone, then covered it as he appealed to Delbert. "He's gonna kill me."
"Don't worry. I'll kill you first." Delbert wiped more blood out of his eyes.
Charlie gripped the receiver so tight it was beginning to crack.
"You've got one way to come out of this alive," Charlie said. "You'll bring me Sabrina Bishop."
Delbert grinned, tearing open his broken lips, blood dribbling from his mouth like saliva. "Tell him if he wants the woman, we want something in return."
"You got something to trade?" Eddie trembled as he spoke into the phone, the urine stinging his thighs. Charlie took a deep breath. So that was how this was going down. Fine. He could play by those rules. It was just a question of who would break them first, and who would die doing it.
''Tell Delbert I have Boo Boo," Charlie said. ''The dog for Sabrina."
"Bullshit," Eddie screeched.
"I found the dog last night at the studio," Charlie said. "Makes you wonder about that 'wild animal' that attacked Reed Roland, doesn't it?"
"The whole fucking country thinks they've seen Boo Boo," Eddie yelled. "The dog is fucking dead."
If Charlie was telling the truth, Eddie feared Delbert would kill him right now. But it wasn't the truth. The dog was dead. Otto and Burt couldn't have blown it. It was a simple job, it couldn't have gone wrong.
Then Eddie remembered Otto and Burt didn't wear seat belts because they couldn't figure out how they worked.
"If you're so sure, then we have nothing to talk about," Charlie said.
Eddie covered the phone and mustered all the self-confidence he could find within himself, which wasn't easy, standing in soiled pants with a gun to his head.
"He's full of shit, Delbert."
''The idiots you sent to kill me"—Delbert spit blood out of his mouth with each word. "Were they the same ones you hired to kill the dog?"
"I never sent anyone to kill you, how could you even think—"
Delbert pistol-whipped him across the face. Eddie fell to the floor, dragging the phone off the table with him.
Eddie started to cry. "Yes, it was them."
Now Delbert
knew
Charlie had the dog. He shoved the gun into his shoulder holster and grabbed the phone. "All right, Willis. You have my attention."
It was the first time Charlie Willis had ever heard Delbert Skaggs's voice. And the first time they met face to face would be the last, one way or the other.
"We make the switch at ten o'clock tonight, Pinnacle Studios," Charlie said, "on the
Global Armageddon
stage."

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