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When Margot woke up she was duct-taped to a chair. She looked around and found she was in a small room. One wall was lined with beer kegs. The wall to her right was covered in food products. She felt cold. Margot came to the conclusion that she was in Lefty’s walk-in refrigerator. On the floor in front of her was her purse. Most of the contents had been dumped out including her gun, mace, and baton. She noticed someone had pocketed the roll of cash Stone had given her.
Standing against one wall by the door was the tall man who had tased her. He was well dressed, looking more like a banker than a professional assassin. The only thing that ruined the banker look was the gauze taped to his right ear and the black combat knife in his right hand.
Margot tried to talk, but they’d taped over her mouth as well.
Behind her she heard Trixie say, “I’m sorry,” again.
“Shut up,” the tall man told her.
“Doc threatened to amputate my arm…”
“I said shut up or I’ll do it myself.”
Trixie shut up.
Another familiar voice behind her said, “I’m sorry too.”
Margot couldn’t turn her head enough to see Lefty, but she had no doubt it was him.
“Why don’t you shut up too?” the tall man said.
Lefty didn’t say anything more.
The tall man pointed his knife at Margot. “I need to ask you some questions. Give me the right answers and I let you walk away. You understand?”
Margot nodded yes, even though she couldn’t imagine he was telling the truth. There was no way he could let her leave here alive. Trixie probably wouldn’t be walking out either. Sadly, she was pretty sure her favorite bartender was in on it.
“No one will hear you if you scream, but I hate it when people scream, so if you try, I’m going to slit your throat. Understand?”
Margot nodded again. This time she was sure he was being honest.
“Take off the tape.”
Lefty walked up behind her and tore the tape off her mouth. He had the decency to do it quickly, but it still hurt.
Margot looked at the tall man. “Mal shoot off your ear?”
“Yeah, he did. If you're wondering if I’m pissed off about it, the answer is yes. If he hits me in the body, I get patche
d up and put on some clothes and no one’s the wiser”—he pointed at the gauze on the side of his head—“but this way I have to come up with an explanation as to why I’m down an ear.”
Margot wasn’t sure how to reply to that.
He flipped the knife in his hand, “Since I can’t cut off his ear, I was thinking I’d take yours.”
“There’s no need for that kind of thing,” Lefty told him.
“That’s my decision.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t. I just said there’s no need for it.”
“Don’t get soft on me, Lefty. You’re about to get what you want.”
“So, you were jealous,” Margot said. “I started figuring it out when you referred to Dean Stone in the past tense. Even the cops don’t know he’s dead.”
“Don’t blame that on me. He’s dead because his wife was talking to the F.B.I.”
“And she’s dead because you ratted her out.”
