McHugh by Jay Flynn

Author:Jay Flynn
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781789122534
Publisher: Muriwai Books
Published: 2018-08-29T16:00:00+00:00

They took him to a sprawling cinderblock building. The name of a trucking company was fading from the sign over the big door. Bulb-Nose got out, slid the door up and pulled it closed after the truck was inside. The garage smelled of years-old dirt and exhaust fumes and gasoline and rubber. It was illuminated by a few bare light bulbs glaring from their yellowed reflectors. There was a skylight, but it had been painted over. McHugh heard the lock being taken off the rear doors.

The driver had his gun in his hand as he said, “Out, and don’t make any anxious moves.”

McHugh stared into eyes for a moment, grinned silently and stepped out. Bulb-Nose was waiting. He waved McHugh toward a wooden door.

“We got him okay. We’re comin’ in,” he yelled.

The door opened. McHugh went through it into a cluttered room that might have been an office. There were a couple of roll-top desks and swivel chairs of the same light-colored wood; wall calendars advertising automotive products through the charms of a pair of girls with big breasts and no clothes; a sagging sofa, one filing cabinet and an old-fashioned stand-up phone on one of the desks.

There were people waiting, and McHugh did not expect a good time. Willie Waddle was clenching and opening his fat fists, and Jug Benich sat on the corner of a desk. There was a noticeable swelling in his face, and the area around both eyes was the color of a thundercloud. Benich looked at McHugh and began to smile.

Two others were sitting on the sofa. One was tall, with black hair combed on the left side, rimless glasses, a well-barbered, well-manicured look and a sharkskin suit McHugh estimated had cost about three hundred dollars. He’d seen the face once before, in a newspaper mug shot taken during a rackets investigation. He remembered Howard Hale had taken the Fifth all the way.

The second man was shorter, heavier. He wore a mismatched jacket and slacks, a plaid shirt and thick-soled shoes. He had a head of thick, black, curling hair and a round, bland face. Dexter Orland reminded McHugh of a pizza cook.

McHugh looked at them and said, “Well?”

Bulb-Nose stationed himself in front of the door and his companion leaned against the wall on McHugh’s right. Their hands hung by their sides now, but they still held their guns.

“Lemme soften him up. It’ll save time,” Benich said. He looped the thong of a sap around his thumb and started for McHugh.

“Jug—shut up. Sit down,” Orland ordered. “Better you just get the hell out.”

“I want this bird,” Benich said flatly. He fingered the patch of black around his eyes.

“See nobody bothers us.” Orland said in a quiet voice. “Right now you might not be able to take him.”

Benich stared at the older man, shrugged and went out.

“Well?” McHugh said again. He stood in the center of the room and scowled at his captors.

Howard Hale cleared his throat. Hell, McHugh thought, he does it just like a banker.

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