Damage Control by Michael Bowen

Author:Michael Bowen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Poisoned Pen Press
Published: 2016-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-nine

Traipsed down to see Seamus. The carpet was no longer squishy-wet, but aside from that his office still qualified as your basic mess. Building Services and Seamus himself had done their best on Sunday to clean up the worst of the damage, but when you’ve had fire and rain inside the same office in five minutes, it’s not going to look good as new overnight.

Didn’t faze Seamus, though. I entered to see him sitting there at his desk, looking as pleased as an altar boy who got all the candles lit on the first try. And to see a gun right in front of him, dead center on his desk blotter.

Specifically, a handgun. Snub-nose revolver. Barrel maybe two inches long. Example of what liberals used to call “small, easily concealed handguns” in the days before the NRA got two-thirds of Congress in its hip pocket and the idea of someday regulating the things went to live with all the people speaking Esperanto.

“Have a seat.”

Seamus gestured toward a guest chair whose cushion he’d covered with two file jackets, so that I could sit down without getting my Spanx damp. I perched gingerly on the blessedly thick paper. Seamus picked up the revolver. He did this rather delicately, holding the butt with his left thumb and index finger and bracing the muzzle against his right index finger.

“This is a Colt .32-caliber revolver. Do you know how to handle something like this?”

“It may be possible to earn a bachelor’s degree in the State of Louisiana without acquiring a basic familiarity with firearms, but I don’t know anyone who’s ever done it.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He put the gun down. “I’ve been thinking about that crack Rotunda made about us and the NRA.”

“I believe that remark was a feeble attempt at satire rather than a serious suggestion.”

“Even a blind squirrel occasionally finds a nut.” Seamus beamed; not a good sign. “I want you to apply to the District of Columbia city government for a concealed-carry permit for this weapon.”

“I see.”

“We’ll get a holster for you.”

“Okay. That’s very thoughtful.”

“The store already has it on order. Picked it out myself from the catalogue. Nice little thing. Dark brown, supple leather. Goatskin, I think, instead of cowhide. You could clip it to your belt or, if you didn’t want to actually have it on your body, it wouldn’t take up much more room in your purse than a couple of packs of cigarettes. Since you don’t smoke anymore, it’s perfect.”

“Seamus,” I said, trying hard not to sound like I thought I was talking to a ten-year-old, “are you telling me that you’ve spent half the morning getting me set up to play Sam Spade’s wife? I mean, for starters, what if they deny my permit application?”

“Oh, they’ll deny the application, all right.”

“I’m not sure I’m following this.”

“Don’t you see?” After favoring me with his pleading, frustrated artist look, he sort of gazed off into the middle distance with a dreamy expression on his face. “We make you the poster-girl victim of unreasonable gun regulation.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.