Mean Business on North Ganson Street by S. Craig Zahler

Author:S. Craig Zahler
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466853515
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

XXX

Bettinger Versus Sleep

“Wake up.”

Bettinger opened his eyes. His bedroom had become a cold white enclosure, and for no reason that he could possibly apprehend, Alyssa was a gaunt, pockmarked Asian guy who had close-cropped black-and-silver hair. Reality rearranged tired thoughts, and murkily, the detective recalled two acts: Sitting at his desk and leaning backward. It had not taken very long for the lurking predator known as sleep to capture its prey.

Huan helped Bettinger to his feet.

“It’s from Hawaii,” said Perry, extending a thermos of coffee to the arisen detective.

Nodding his thanks, Bettinger received the vessel.

“Huan’s got an uncle who sends it for the holidays,” said the redhead. “Their soil’s way better than all this shit on the mainland.”

“It’s an amazing place to get buried,” added the pockmarked Asian.

“Concentrate real hard and you’ll taste hints of cinnamon and almonds.”

“Possibly bikinis.”

Bettinger tipped some of the odiferous coffee into his mouth. Even in his sleep-deprived condition, he recognized that the beverage was an extraordinary achievement. “This is—”

“You’ve got two minutes!” Zwolinski shouted from behind his desk.

“We’ll drop you at the Sunflower,” Perry said as he and the other two detectives proceeded toward the door. “Your car will be in the lot when you wake up—we’re covering the repair bill and’ll put the keys under your door.”

Bettinger had no interest in thanking the redhead for these services. “Fine.”

“Don’t worry though—Dominic isn’t going to walk away from your challenge.”

“I wouldn’t allow him to.”

Perry glanced at his partner and then eyed the contender. “Ever fight an elephant that’s made out of angry gorillas?”

“Not since I was a kid.”

“Get ready.”

“Zwolinski handled him.”

“Zwolinski’s a titan, and a scientific fighter. Even still, that was in a ring, with gloves, and you don’t get dirty with the boss. You, on the other hand, will get the full arsenal.”

“I’m ready.”

“Want that on your tombstone? ‘He was ready.’”

“Put an ellipsis,” suggested Bettinger.

“‘He was ready…’”

Huan considered the revision. “It just became art.”

“Make sure it’s cursive,” added the detective from Arizona.

Grinning, the redhead patted his charge’s back and motioned him forward. “I will.”

Bettinger strode through the doorway and across the receiving area, where the bereaved receptionist at the front desk did not once lift her gaze from her big white telephone. It looked as if she was expecting a direct call from Heaven.

* * *

Something tapped Bettinger’s right shoulder, rousing him, and his stinging eyes told him that he was in the back of a parked sedan. Huan sat behind the steering wheel, and Perry slouched in the passenger’s seat, eating a candy bar. Magenta twilight painted the detectives’ faces, the windshield, and the façade of the Sunflower Motel, which was twenty feet away.

“Show them your badge,” said the redhead. “You’ll get half off.”

“Got it.”

Bettinger reached for the door.

“Hold up,” said Perry.

“Yeah?”

The redhead finished his candy bar, glanced at his partner, and returned his attention to the backseat. “You could’ve snitched on Dominic for what he did to that lady yesterday—the child abuser—and you could’ve told the boss about what happened to your car, but you didn’t.

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