By Lorenzo Porricelli (Broken - Desert –Voices)
Benny Suarez hated the desert. Night had fallen and so had the temperature, and his arms quivered with a sudden chill. He winced and leaned against the palm for support and tried to get a glimpse inside the house. The perp was in there, and he had Evelyn. If he hadn’t been shot he’d bust the door and make his move. He managed to smile. They don’t give the Medal of Honor to cops. His phone rang. Christ, why hadn’t he shut it off? He looked down and cursed.
Why was Trappani calling again, Suarez wondered. And should he answer? Perhaps Trappani didn’t realize his goon was dead and laying right next to Suarez. Or maybe he wanted to make a deal. He attempted a laugh, more a grunting grin. The pain was two-fold - in his wounded shoulder - and the realization that indecision had kept him from too many mountaintops. Grandma Gussie’s words echoed in his ears. “It couldn’t hurt.” Suarez flipped the receiver.
“What?”
“I don’t know you, but you know me.”
“And?”
“And if you want to see your lovely lady again, forget about me.”
“I’m a cop,” Suarez answered through a fog creeping over him. Where the heck were the backup he’d called for, and an ambulance.
“Look, I’m giving you something for no charge,” Trappani said, “and I never do anything for free.”
“I haven’t heard a dime’s worth of business,” Suarez answered. He hated Trappani’s voice. It was heavy nasal, like a concierge on Wilshire.
“We can all make big money,” Trappani said, “Your girlfriend will walk away smelling like roses with the biggest score of her miserable life.“
“I’m tired of chit-chatting with you, Trappani, it’s mostly chit.” Suarez renewed his attempt to smile. Another of Grandma Gussie’s pearls. He saw the blood had seeped through his jacket.
“Get up to my house – “
The phone died. Suarez tried to reconnect, but couldn’t get a network.
Suarez tossed it. Just as well, it was broken garbage, along with that junk Trappani was throwing at him. Was Trappani that stupid?
A gunshot from the house ended his second-guessing, and he tried to raise himself to peek through the window. But the loss of blood from the shoulder wound had sapped his strength, and he almost fainted. Through a haze, he peered inside.
Suarez was confused. There was that hulking chauffer, Manuro, pistol-whipping Trappani, and he even backhanded the woman. Evelyn! Suarez saw big money in an open briefcase. Lots and lots of dope. Somehow he had to get inside, Evelyn was there. He should have stopped her when he could. Where the heck was the backup? He stuffed the dead guy’s .44 Magnum in his belt. He pulled his own gun and crawled to the doorway.
He heard voices shouting as he raised himself with great effort. His stance was wobbly.
“You’re both going to die, and my boss, Mr. Trappani will be blamed,” said Manuro.
“Hey, bozo,” Suarez tried to yell, “Drop the -.” Suarez collapsed.
“Honey!” Evelyn screamed, and ran over to Suarez. ”Honey,” she cried and cradled his head.
“Honey?“ said Manuro.
Suarez rose and staggered toward Manuro.
Manuro smacked Suarez’s jaw with the pistol butt and knocked him into a cabinet, and Suarez fell to the floor in the doorway. Manuro grabbed hold of Evelyn. But she was more than he had guessed, and Evelyn latched onto his leg with her recently whitened teeth and sunk them in just as if she was tearing at a good bagel.
Manuro pulled her hair and yanked her head back. He landed a short, but powerful uppercut, and Evelyn saw stars. He dragged Suarez into the house and shut the door, and dropped Suarez on the steps into the living room.
“A perfect spot for a cop to die, isn’t it Suarez?” Manuro laughed. “Right with your girlfriend in the middle of a drug deal. Both of you. Dead.”
“Hey – scumbag –“ said Trappani from the floor, “Surprise.”
Manuro turned quick. But Trappani still had his gun and fired a shot that hit Manuro’s tree-trunk neck and spun him around. Suarez pulled the .44 and blasted Manuro between the eyes. The look of failure on what was left of Manuro’s face as he dropped to the floor revived Suarez. The bum should have stuck to driving.
“Good shot, my friend,” said Suarez.
“Yours was better,” said Trappani.”
“How’s this one?” The .44 exploded three times along with Trappani’s skull.
Suarez roused himself and got some water. He poured it over Evelyn’s face and she opened her eyes.
“Honey, I ‘m sorry,” she sobbed, “I lied, I wanted one more big score –“
“Shut up!” said Suarez. “More cops are going to be here in a minute.”
She grabbed onto him. “ We’ll make it – I’ll take the heat –“
Suarez slapped her. “I said shut up. Get up and take all that money and get the hell out of here.”
“I love you – I don’t want to leave–“
“Evelyn - Get out of here. I’ll fix it.” He grabbed her arm and slid the sleeve up. No fresh tracks.
He embraced her and they kissed. They looked into each other’s eyes.
“I love you,” said Suarez, “both of them are scum, no one will know. Or care.”
Evelyn closed the briefcase.
“I’ll meet you later,” said Suarez.
She kissed Suarez quickly, and left.
Suarez looked around. He didn’t have to fix anything. It was open and shut. There was the dope. The bums started the shooting. He had finished it. A mere bag of shells as Grandma Gussie would say. Suarez heard the sirens arriving, and smiled without any pain.
Benny Suarez hated the desert. Night had fallen and so had the temperature, and his arms quivered with a sudden chill. He winced and leaned against the palm for support and tried to get a glimpse inside the house. The perp was in there, and he had Evelyn. If he hadn’t been shot he’d bust the door and make his move. He managed to smile. They don’t give the Medal of Honor to cops. His phone rang. Christ, why hadn’t he shut it off? He looked down and cursed.
Why was Trappani calling again, Suarez wondered. And should he answer? Perhaps Trappani didn’t realize his goon was dead and laying right next to Suarez. Or maybe he wanted to make a deal. He attempted a laugh, more a grunting grin. The pain was two-fold - in his wounded shoulder - and the realization that indecision had kept him from too many mountaintops. Grandma Gussie’s words echoed in his ears. “It couldn’t hurt.” Suarez flipped the receiver.
“What?”
“I don’t know you, but you know me.”
“And?”
“And if you want to see your lovely lady again, forget about me.”
“I’m a cop,” Suarez answered through a fog creeping over him. Where the heck were the backup he’d called for, and an ambulance.
“Look, I’m giving you something for no charge,” Trappani said, “and I never do anything for free.”
“I haven’t heard a dime’s worth of business,” Suarez answered. He hated Trappani’s voice. It was heavy nasal, like a concierge on Wilshire.
“We can all make big money,” Trappani said, “Your girlfriend will walk away smelling like roses with the biggest score of her miserable life.“
“I’m tired of chit-chatting with you, Trappani, it’s mostly chit.” Suarez renewed his attempt to smile. Another of Grandma Gussie’s pearls. He saw the blood had seeped through his jacket.
“Get up to my house – “
The phone died. Suarez tried to reconnect, but couldn’t get a network.
Suarez tossed it. Just as well, it was broken garbage, along with that junk Trappani was throwing at him. Was Trappani that stupid?
A gunshot from the house ended his second-guessing, and he tried to raise himself to peek through the window. But the loss of blood from the shoulder wound had sapped his strength, and he almost fainted. Through a haze, he peered inside.
Suarez was confused. There was that hulking chauffer, Manuro, pistol-whipping Trappani, and he even backhanded the woman. Evelyn! Suarez saw big money in an open briefcase. Lots and lots of dope. Somehow he had to get inside, Evelyn was there. He should have stopped her when he could. Where the heck was the backup? He stuffed the dead guy’s .44 Magnum in his belt. He pulled his own gun and crawled to the doorway.
He heard voices shouting as he raised himself with great effort. His stance was wobbly.
“You’re both going to die, and my boss, Mr. Trappani will be blamed,” said Manuro.
“Hey, bozo,” Suarez tried to yell, “Drop the -.” Suarez collapsed.
“Honey!” Evelyn screamed, and ran over to Suarez. ”Honey,” she cried and cradled his head.
“Honey?“ said Manuro.
Suarez rose and staggered toward Manuro.
Manuro smacked Suarez’s jaw with the pistol butt and knocked him into a cabinet, and Suarez fell to the floor in the doorway. Manuro grabbed hold of Evelyn. But she was more than he had guessed, and Evelyn latched onto his leg with her recently whitened teeth and sunk them in just as if she was tearing at a good bagel.
Manuro pulled her hair and yanked her head back. He landed a short, but powerful uppercut, and Evelyn saw stars. He dragged Suarez into the house and shut the door, and dropped Suarez on the steps into the living room.
“A perfect spot for a cop to die, isn’t it Suarez?” Manuro laughed. “Right with your girlfriend in the middle of a drug deal. Both of you. Dead.”
“Hey – scumbag –“ said Trappani from the floor, “Surprise.”
Manuro turned quick. But Trappani still had his gun and fired a shot that hit Manuro’s tree-trunk neck and spun him around. Suarez pulled the .44 and blasted Manuro between the eyes. The look of failure on what was left of Manuro’s face as he dropped to the floor revived Suarez. The bum should have stuck to driving.
“Good shot, my friend,” said Suarez.
“Yours was better,” said Trappani.”
“How’s this one?” The .44 exploded three times along with Trappani’s skull.
Suarez roused himself and got some water. He poured it over Evelyn’s face and she opened her eyes.
“Honey, I ‘m sorry,” she sobbed, “I lied, I wanted one more big score –“
“Shut up!” said Suarez. “More cops are going to be here in a minute.”
She grabbed onto him. “ We’ll make it – I’ll take the heat –“
Suarez slapped her. “I said shut up. Get up and take all that money and get the hell out of here.”
“I love you – I don’t want to leave–“
“Evelyn - Get out of here. I’ll fix it.” He grabbed her arm and slid the sleeve up. No fresh tracks.
He embraced her and they kissed. They looked into each other’s eyes.
“I love you,” said Suarez, “both of them are scum, no one will know. Or care.”
Evelyn closed the briefcase.
“I’ll meet you later,” said Suarez.
She kissed Suarez quickly, and left.
Suarez looked around. He didn’t have to fix anything. It was open and shut. There was the dope. The bums started the shooting. He had finished it. A mere bag of shells as Grandma Gussie would say. Suarez heard the sirens arriving, and smiled without any pain.
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