Borderline by Dell Sweet

Author:Dell Sweet
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: crime, pulp, crime action, crime and drama, crime action adventure, pulp ficton, crime and mystery short fiction, pulp fiction action and adventure, pulp crime fiction, pulp action adventure
Publisher: NetReadz

She smiled. “Mister Bob,” she whispered once more...

JUSTICE

Randy Clark walked alone down the dark and silent interstate. Not an interstate, he told himself, just a big empty fucking piece of asphalt now, is all it is.

"Fucking right," he agreed aloud. He took a long pull on the bottle he held, stumbled slightly, regained his balance and continued walking. Replaying his life as he walked, missing what he once had been.

Two years earlier, before all this shit had happened, he would tell anyone who would listen, I was a big shot. It was rare lately that anybody would listen. Nobody in the last two weeks anyway. But he didn't mind, he enjoyed hearing the story himself.

He'd had Donna, she would usually listen, but not no more, he told himself. Two weeks ago Donna had give him the boot, The Boot, as in get the fuck out, as in don't come back, as in there's the door don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out.

So he had, he could take a hint. But ten years ago, now that had been something. Ten years ago she'd been licking his shoes to stay. He'd worked for a large insurance company back then, a really big one. And he was up there on the old boss ladder too. Mid-western V.P., as a matter of fact, and he had earned that position not been handed it.

"You better fucking believe that," he mumbled now, as he listened in on his own thoughts, "Busted my ass too." He took another pull from the bottle. Thought about it, and took one more.

He had started in the claims department. Hard place to start, but he had excelled at cutting loose the deadwood, as they had referred to it back then. More than once he had either managed to completely cut loose a claim, or settle it for a far less amount than what it had been worth. Cutting loose the deadwood, the costly claims, had been his specialty. Personal injury, Workers Compensation, wrongful death. If you could get it before the lawyers got their hooks into it, you could usually settle it quick and inexpensively, and if you couldn't, there was always a way to cut it loose, or tie it up in so much litigation that it came to the same thing. Litigate it until those lousy fuckers had to file bankruptcy, then they'd crack. And all those bastards had been faking anyway. They always did, and if it wasn't a total fake he could usually catch the part of it that was, and of course he'd had his pay-rolled ringers. Doctors who would write a perfect bill of health even if you were sitting in a wheelchair, and more than a few lawyers that could litigate a case to death. Literally to death. The party dies, you settle with the family for a fraction, it's over.

Those were the things that had got him the V.P. position, and the people under him had learned quickly that you did things Randy's way, or you were sent packing.

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