Partners in Crime Anthology by Lanyon Josh

Author:Lanyon, Josh [Lanyon, Josh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Anthology
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

M ost of the denizens of the Jubilee Manor Estate had spared no expense in decking the halls—and roofs, car porches and lawns of their mobile homes—for the holiday.

Number 213, home to Bradley Kaine, stood in stark and unadorned contrast to his neighbors.

I knocked on the door. There was no answer. The lights glowed behind brown curtains and I could hear the unmistakable sounds of video game gunfire. I thumped harder with my gloved fist.

The door opened and the man himself stood framed against a backdrop of cigarette smoke and gloomy interior. Emaciated body in dirty jeans and a brown plaid shirt, stringy hair, unshaven face.

“It says No Solicitors!” he informed me on a gust of beer-breath that could have knocked down his neighbor’s plastic reindeer.

“No worries. I don’t plan on suing you. I may, however, shove your teeth through your brain.”

It took a full twenty-nine seconds before recognition dawned on his narrow face. “You’re that crazy limey bastard!”

“That’s me, mate. And what are you? I’m thinking inept, wannabe assassin.”

“H-h-huh?” Kaine fell back into his abode which I felt could be construed as giving permission to enter. I followed him inside. The interior smelled of tobacco and bad plumbing. The TV offered a frozen image of a man being killed execution style by another man in a black hood. There was nothing remotely realistic about the dead man’s expression, but the blood spatter pattern was accurate enough. Stacks of unopened DVD players and boom boxes blocked most of the hall leading to the bedrooms. DVD players and boom boxes? So three Christmases ago. Kaine wasn’t any smarter a thief than he was would-be murderer.

I opened a couple of cabinets, checked inside cupboard drawers. “What are you doing?” Kaine demanded, backed up against the wall. “What do you want?”

“You better get wrapping, Bradley.” I nodded to the tower of stolen electronics. “Only two days ‘til Christmas.”

His eyes did a weird jittery shift as though he were about to have a seizure. “What do you—I’m not—I’m storing them for a friend.”

“Of course.”

“Why are you here?”

I kept searching. No gun rack. No guns. No weapons at all unless you counted a couple of kitchen knives. Of course the rifle might be out in his car. I stopped prowling and had a good long look at him. He was an unlovely sight. A pale, weasely face: closeset muddy eyes; a small, wet mouth; lank, greasy, dark hair. He was terrified, which was to be expected. And totally bewildered, which wasn’t.

Maybe he was a better actor than I gave him credit for. Or maybe I was out of practice reading villains.

“Who’d you hire to try and kill me? I want the name and address.”

“W-w-what?” He actually swayed like he was about to faint. “What are you talking about?”

No, he wasn’t that good an actor. He was genuinely, blankly confused. No clue as to what I was talking about. None.

I’d been so sure.

But I’d been wrong.

Kaine hugged himself and struggled not to cry. His frightened eyes never left my face.

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