THE CHARM OF REVENGE by Tom Secret

Author:Tom Secret
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Secret LLC

40. ONE MORE WORD

Wednesday, 6:30 a.m.

Donatello wiped the chrome hot plate of his vintage 1952 Gaggia espresso machine, placed the saucer on the tiny breakfast bar, and took a sip, trying to shake off the nightcaps that had ended with him passed out in his chair. His own snoring had awoken him at four a.m. half frozen and curled in the fetal position, the hammer of his trusty Colt.45 jabbing into his ribs. He’d remained there another half hour, thinking of Allegra. She was always his first thought of the day, and his last.

He took another sip, hoping it would lift him above the fog of depression that had settled around him. Though he wouldn’t admit it to Wilkes or Colby, he wanted out; a new life where every waking hour wasn’t spent chasing the scum of the earth and catching nothing but flak for his troubles.

Muffled shouting drifted from the apartment below. Crazy fools. Six-thirty a.m. and they were already at each other’s throats. People never learned. Arguing over differences instead of enjoying their time together, and before they knew it, wham, they either divorced or died. He and Allegra had never argued—not like that, anyway.

More sounds pushed into his tiny apartment as the city hit its stride. Donatello’s mind drifted to the properties his mother had left, and he felt a ray of hope; perhaps they were his ticket out. But then Ivor’s tax comments flooded back. He glanced at the red file on the table by the front door where he had stowed the tax demands, and could sense their tentacles reaching out through the binder, defiling his mother’s memory, grabbing at everything she had worked and died for.

The first one arrived yesterday, and just the recollection of it made his blood boil afresh. Bad news wasn’t meant to come to his door; he was the bad news that went to other people’s doors, yet the invasion had begun regardless, and already his home no longer felt like a haven from the sickness of the world. The plague of rats was upon him.

The doorbell chime snapped him out of his funk and made him glance at the clock. Six forty a.m. Who in heaven’s name! He crossed to the door, checked the peephole, and instinctively touched his holstered cannon as two bulbous eyes stared back from the other side. He left the chain on and cracked the door.

“I’m looking for Donatello,” the voice said through the gap.

“Who wants him?”

“My name is Mr. Castro, and I’m from the IRS.”

Here we go, thought Donatello as the blood rushed to his chest and arms. He slid the chain off and opened the door, looking the cheap suit up and down.

“I’m here on behalf of the IRS to offer my congratulations!” the acne-scarred face said.

“For what?”

“For your recent bereavement.”

“You mean condolences, surely,” Donatello said.

“I mean congratulations on your recent inheritance, for which you now owe two hundred sixty-eight thousand, four hundred thirty-three dollars in death tax, which I’m here to collect.” He shoved the tax demand in Donatello’s face as though he were blind as a worm.

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.