Suicide Squeeze

36

In the dream, Co

He hovered near third base waiting for the pitch. At which time he’d take off ru

The pitch. And Co

He fell, facefirst in the mud. He tried to see, to blink the mud out of his eyes. Where was the ball? Had the bunt been laid down? He tried to get up, couldn’t make his body obey.

The weight of eternity held him facedown in the mud, and from a long way away, a voice called, Co

“Co

Co

Co

A wave of dread and grief washed over Co

“We don’t have time for you to pull yourself together,” Otis said.

“I can walk.”

Otis put him down. Co

Otis yelled, “Dammit, come on!”

“One second.” Co

The warehouse was a mess. More bodies. A few Japanese but mostly Rocky’s guys. The strip club was worse. The bar was on fire. They coughed their way through and out the open door into the street. They passed a group of determined firemen going the other way. The street flickered in the red lights of the emergency vehicles. More sirens in the distance.

Now Co

Otis had parked his Lincoln just beyond the fire trucks. They drove in a random direction. Co

Co

“Shit,” Otis spit. “I was hoping you could tell me.” Otis relayed his side of it. After the car wash, Otis had run some errands, taken care of Rocky’s business. When he returned, he’d found Playerz a smoldering, bloody wreck. He’d run back to find Rocky, only to find his boss shot full of lead. Co

Co

“Tell me what you know about this,” Otis said. “So I know who to kill.”

Co

“I don’t think it’s a vendetta,” Co

“This is fucking bullshit.” Otis slammed the palm of his hand against the steering wheel. “Nobody kills a bunch of people and burns down a fucking strip club for no fucking baseball card.”

Any collectible is only worth what somebody is willing to pay, thought Co

Otis’s eyes flamed wild with rage. “We got to find these motherfuckers and do something.”

Co

“No, no, no, no.” Otis shook his head. “Don’t you shut down on me. I’m not in the mood for your Co

“What are you talking about?”

“Your damn attitude. Like you ain’t involved. You know what your problem is?”

“Jesus.” America ’s new pastime. Tell Co

“You ain’t a team player.”

“Fuck you.”

“It’s true. That’s why you got kicked off the college baseball team.”

“I didn’t get kicked off the team,” Co

Otis went on like he didn’t hear. “Rocky was my team. And somebody just fucked with my team big-time. And if you think I’m going to sit around with my thumb up my ass, then you’re screwed in the head. Now you better tell me on whom I can vent my mighty wrath. Otherwise, the only motherfucker around here to vent on is you.”

“I have one idea,” Co

“Then call them,” Otis said. “What you waiting on? Dial the fucking phone.”

37

She couldn’t escape the hangover.

She tried lying on the couch, then sitting up, lying in bed. She sprawled on the floor, tried standing in the shower under cold water. She dried off, returned to the couch. Nothing helped. Joellen Becker’s head thundered, her stomach queasy. There was no way she could arrange herself that would abate the misery.

Her life hovering in front of her like a rapidly deflating balloon didn’t help matters. She refused to return to her dismal desk at the insurance agency. The thought of it made her stomach heave. She’d need to track down some of the old contacts, start looking for a gig. If she stayed in the States, there wouldn’t be much, corporate stuff or insurance work again. Better prospects out of the country. She’d had an offer from an old NSA chum in El Salvador, but it could be tough for women down there. Worse in the Middle East.

What would her daddy general think if he could see Joellen Becker now?

The phone rang, like sonic beams shot through her ears to melt her brain. She didn’t want to answer. Why bother? But she squirmed off the couch, held her head, picked up the phone before the machine clicked on. “Yeah?”

“This is Co

She thought about that a second. “So what?”

“I’m at the Waffle House across from the mall,” Samson said. “Why don’t you come down here and explain why a gang of killer Japs are so crazy to get their hands on this Joe DiMaggio card.”

“Do you have the card with you?”