Gunning For Angels (Fallen Angels Book 1) (7 page)

A king should die on his feet.

–
Louis XVIII

Bud lay in the hospital bed, listening to the man in the next bed moan in his sleep. His moans were rhythmic and steady, like Chinese water torture. If the guy missed a moan, Bud found himself tensing, holding his breath in anticipation of the next moan.

I have to get out of here!

Bud sensed more than heard the approach of Bunnie. As she got closer, he could hear the telltale Z-Coil heel strike and the pausing of voices in the wake of the Bunnie avalanche, which he knew so well and welcomed. Bud relaxed and forgot the moaning behind the curtain that separated their beds.

“What the hell, Bud?” Bunnie jerked aside the curtain. “You been havin’ heart pain and didn’t tell me?”

The sleeping moaner woke with a snort.

Bunnie hit the curtain. “Keep it down over there! You’re not the only hea
rt attack on the ward.”

“I’m okay,” Bud smiled weakly.

“Like hell you are!” Bunnie said angrily, lifting an electrode line. “How come Chip has to call me from school – tell me you’re in the hospital? How come
he
knows before
me
?”

Behind her, Chip entered the room. He froze with the terrified expression of easy prey.

Bunnie paused, sniffed the air as if sensing his presence.  

Bud subtly gestured for Chip
to leave.

“Bud Orlean, you are about as subtle as a shithouse on fire!” Bunnie spun around. She gave a cry of joy, sprang forward and grabbed Chip in a bone-crunching hug. “Chip-ster! I thought Bud was waving off a doc he didn’t want me to talk to…”

“Good to be home,” Chip said, awkwardly trying to plant a kiss on her cheek.

“What are you doin’ home? Don’t you have some big exam next week?”

Bud sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He winced, stopped to catch his breath.

Bunnie spun around. “What the hell do you think
you’re
doing?”

Bud pulled off an electrode, grimacing. “I’m going home. Against medical advice – yes – but I’ll follow up with a cardiologist.
I promise.”

Bunnie’s eyebrows shot into a sharp V of anger. She stepped forward menacingly. “So help me Mother-Mary-Louise, if you get out of that bed, Bud Orl
ean, I will write you a new one.”

Bud tore off another electrode. “Chip dropped out of school. He wants to do some
soul searching.”

Bunnie’s body went rigid, a joint somewhere deep within her body cracked like a knuckle. She did a dangerously slow one-eighty.

Chip’s face went grey. “I – I can explain…”

Bud struggled to pull on his pants. “Chip says
you’ll understand
.”

Her eyes glittered dangerously. “Yeah, Chip, why don’t you explain so I’ll –
understand.”

“Wallet, please,
” Bud said, pointing to a table.

Bunnie handed it to him.

“Thank you.” Bud said.

Chip glanced at his dad, who gave him a “don’t-mess-with-me” look. Chip took a ragged breath and, after a long hard moment, turned and
ran.

Bunnie spun toward Bud. She slapped his hands away from a button that he was struggling with and began undressing him. “He’s going back to school.”

“We can’t force him.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bunnie said grimly as she continued to undress him. 

Bud fought to stop her. “I’ll make an appointment with a cardiologist, Bunnie. I can’t stay here.”

“You’re staying.” Bunnie
said as she relentlessly undressed Bud.

“It was an ‘episode’ –
not
a heart attack. I promise, I’ll
make an appointment today.”

“Bud, if you die, you’re going to die like a man and an officer of the law –
naturally
. Murdered on the street in the line of duty. N
ot
dropping dead of a heart attack like you have a wife who doesn’t give a shit and never forced you to eat a stick of broccoli.”

“I’m not…!”

“Bud, this is not about you!” Bunnie snapped.

Bud looked at her in surprise.

“Do you remember those ‘episodes’
I
had – when I went into menopause?”

Bud nodded, disturbed. 

“Well, I’m feeling something akin to that
right now.
So, let’s keep in mind that I am
not
on
medication anymore. You have a choice: glue your backside to that bed and jump through every hoop Nurse Ratchett and Doc Martin put you through until they give you the green light to come home
or –
check yourself out
against medical advice
and I will personally make sure you drop dead of a heart attack if I have to hand-deliver it myself and
FYI,
I will bury you in the backyard with your ass sticking out of the ground so my new husband has a place to park his bike.”

Bud got back into bed.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary.

–Edgar Allan Poe

Loud pounding on the door startled Enid out of her doze. She sat up, blinking. For a moment, she felt disoriented and couldn’t remember where she was.

“Open up, Jeni!” A man’s voice demanded angrily from behind th
e door. “I know you’re in there.”

Like cold water in her face, Enid remembered that she was in Jeni’s apartment – just her and the baby. She grabbed the gun and pointed it at the door.

“Open the door or I’ll kick it in!” the man shouted.

Enid undid what Henry called the “safety” of the gun and tiptoed to the door. There was a window covered with a broken blind, but she was too scared to look through it.

“Jeni’s not here,” she called out in a hesitant voice.

Silence.

Enid glanced at Faith, who was awake and crying. 

“Who’s that?” the man’s voice demanded.

“The babysitter. Jeni isn’t here. Come back tomorrow.”

Footsteps stormed down the walk. A car door slammed. Enid cautiously peeked out the blinds. A sports car sat in the street. The flare of a match momentarily illuminated the thick scowling face of the man in the driver’s seat. The glow of a cigarette hovered. After a moment, he gunned the engine and sped up over the curb and toward the front door.

Enid’s scream was lost in the squeal of brakes. The car stopped three feet from the front door, its headlights harshly illuminating the tiny apartment.

Enid ran to the kitchen and grabbed the bars across the windows, but they didn’t budge. Her only way out was blocked. The roar of the engine was deafening and Enid heard him shouting about…

Pissing in my skull?

Enid covered her ears, terrified.

The baby wailed. Enid gasped, realizing that she left Faith behind. Trembling, Enid got on all fours and crawled into the living room. Making her way to the crib, she grabbed Faith and crawled behind the sofa.

The man pounded on the door. “I know you’re in there, Jeni! If that’s your new
girlfriend –
I’m going to kill you, kill her and then I’m going to kill myself!”

Enid reached over the couch and grabbed the cell phone that Jeni had left her.

The sound of breaking glass reverberated through the tiny room, followed by scraping and thudding. Enid’s head shot up over the couch. A baseball bat was knocking out jagged shards of glass, which was all that remained of the window. A thick, hairy hand reached in and tore down the twisted blinds.

Certain she was going to die unless she
did somethin
g
, Enid hid the baby behind the sofa, grabbed the Glock and, with a primal scream, barreled toward the front door. She flung the door open and was blinded by the headlights of his car. She saw a blur of boots flailing in the air. Enid went back in and, hands shaking violently, she pointed the gun at the man’s head. 

“Stop!” Enid shrieked, tears running down her face. 

The man’s eyes went from crazy to zero. Balancing himself in the window, he dropped the bat. “Hold up, little girl!” 

“I’m the babysitter!
I told you
– I’m the babysitter!” Enid screamed, tears running down her face.

“Take it easy.
”

Sirens screamed up the street. Through the glare of headlights, Enid could see a knot of neighbors. A police car screeched to a stop, lights flashing.

Enid’s hand with the gun dropped to her side. 

Cursing, the man wriggled backwards, trying to escape.

Enid darted into the kitchen. She opened the freezer and shoved the gun inside a half-eaten box of ice cream. She ran into the living room as a young Hispanic cop was making his way in.

“Police! Drop your weapon!”

Enid’s hands flew up. “I’m the babysitter!”

The policeman’s eyes seemed to be everywhere at once. Gun leveled at Enid, his eyes found the wailing baby hidden behind the couch.  “Who else is here?” He demanded.

“Just me.”

“She tried to kill me! That bitch had a gun to my head!” The angry man shouted from the front yard where he lay facedown as another cop snapped on cuffs.

The policeman shot Enid a suspicious look.

“I’m the babysitter,” Enid said, trying to look innocent.

“Stand there,” the policeman shoved her to the wall, patting her down. “The man said you had a gun,” The policeman persisted.

“Nah-uh. Not me.
”

“If you have a gun on the premises, you need to tell me,” the police officer said. 

Bursting into tears, she wailed, “I’m the babysitter!”

Promises and piecrust are made to be broken.

–
Jonathan Swift

Jack walked into Mid-First Bank on Central Avenue. A skinny bank teller with big hair and a name tag reading ‘Kelly’ greeted him. “Welcome to Mid-First Bank, sir. How can I help you?”

Jack pulled the bundle of cash that Eve had given him out of a rolled-up newspaper and placed it on the counter. “I’d like to make a deposit.”  

“Certainly, sir. Is that over…?”

“Nine-thousand, nine-hundred and eighty,” Jack said, aware that depositing ten thousand or more in cash required paperwork.

Kelly smiled and ran the cash through a money counter. Jack enjoyed watching the cash fly and the sound it made. “Hey, isn’t this the bank that used to be owned by that guy who got murdered?”

Kelly glanced around, uncomfortable.

“Daniel Hargrove – that was his name, right?” Jack said. 

Kelly smiled uneasily.

“Did you know him?” He asked.

Kelly frowned, shook her head.

“If I remember right, the daughter – Eve Hargrove, she sold the bank for a boatload of money. I heard everybody loved her – especially the employees.” 

Kelly shot him an incredulous look. She leaned closer, hissed. “Everybody
hated
that bitch! Talk about take the money and run. Forget about the people who worked here since the beginning – one of them thirty-three years. To hell with
us
, our
benefits
, our
pensions
– she knew if she sold the bank that a bunch of us would get laid off, but did she care? All she cares about is getting her daddy’s money and the rest of us can eat dirt and die.”

A sallow-faced manager walked toward them.

Kelly straightened, smiling brightly, “Here’s your receipt, sir. Would you like to talk to a personal banker today – about investment planning?”

Jack answered in the negative, thanked her, took his receipt and left. On the way to the car, he dialed the office to find out if Rachel had dug up any info on the Hargrove family. Rachel had an uncanny ability to dig up dirt on even the most elusive persons of interest.

After a brief conversation with Rachel, Jack found himself driving across town to a strip club called The Candy Store, which was a seedy dive specializing in cheap beer and neon-bathed flesh.

Rachel had also told him that it
was also Jeni Hargrove’s current place of employment.

Jack hadn’t been surprised that Jeni had lied about being in nursing school. Her appearance had pretty much pegged her for a stripper – and not a very bright one. Jack knew that the smart strippers dressed like college girls while the dumb college girls dressed like strippers. The dumb strippers – they just dressed like
dumb strippers.

What surprised him was that Jeni was working in such a dive. Her legs were her calling card to any skin club of her choice and yet, she had chosen to work in the dregs.

As a rule, Jack avoided strip clubs. He had figured out long ago that he had an irrational and extremely inconvenient urge to “save” the girls, which only got him into trouble – and broke.

Heart broke and bank broke. 

Jack entered the dimly lit club. Rhythmic music pounded and a stripper hung upside-down in a gymnast move. Her breasts had the telltale volleyball firmness of an augmentation. A smattering of men and one lone lesbian gazed up at her as they sipped cheap beer. 

On a second stage, Jeni was gyrating on a pole in white bikini bottoms and a Candy Striper’s hat. As good as Jeni looked in her clothes, she looked even better without.

Jack took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer.

The song finally stopped and another instantly started pounding.

Jack turned around in time to see Jeni’s eyes home in on a five-dollar bill suspended in the air. She sauntered toward the construction worker holding the bill.  

Jack stepped forward, hoping that she would see him before she landed on the guy’s lap.

She did see him. Compressing her lips, she leaned over and whispered in the construction worker’s ear. He scowled, watching her walk toward Jack. She grabbed a flimsy wrap from a chair and pulled it around her protectively.

A surly Russian in a cowboy hat leaned on the end of the bar. He scowled as he watched Jeni pass more cash.

Jeni slid onto a barstool next to Jack. “I
did
apply
to nursing school. I’m waiting to hear if I get in. It’s not like I was lying or anything…”

“You don’t owe me any explanations.” Jack waved for the bartender. “You want something?”

A bartender appeared, nodded at Jeni. “Ginger ale?” 

She nodded, smiling her thanks. 

At the end of the bar, the Russian was glaring at Jeni.

Jeni’s face twitched. “Give me your wallet.”

Jack pulled out his wallet. Jeni expertly plucked out a ten. She tucked it into her bikini strap and gave the Russian a “get-off-my-back” look. Appeased, his attention drifted.

Jeni gazed at Jack earnestly. “I took this job for research –
secret
research. I’m writing my life story – it’s going to be funny and sad and, who knows, maybe they’ll turn it into a movie. My life could be a movie…”

“Tell me about
Eve,” Jack interrupted, hating to hear her lie.

Jeni shot him a startled look. “What’s
she
got to do with anything?”

“You’re
here. Your sister Eve is in a Ferrari that could buy this place lock, stock and barrel. What’s the story?”

Jeni eyed the stage, hungry to get back on.

“You want me to find your mother?” Jack said. “You need to tell me what’s going on. Any reason why your sister wouldn’t want you to find your real mom?”

“You find her?
Or did she find you?” Jeni said suspiciously.

“I found her,” Jack lied.

“She’s got nothing to do with me finding my mother.”

“Do you love your sister?”

Jeni snorted. “Yeah, I love Eve – like a sparrow loves the hawk.”

Jack watched the play of expressions on her face and he got the story – not the details but he got it.

Jeni sighed. “Eve is working off a different rule book than the rest of the universe. In the end, she’ll win. She
always
wins.”

“What’d she do to you?”

Jeni stood up, gestured to the stage. “Look, I gotta…”

Jack put his hand on her arm.

She looked at him, startled.

He pulled his hand away. 

After a moment, she asked, “Can I still get my student discount?”

Jack nodded.

Jeni smiled, headed back to the stage. She extended her hands above her head, her shift slipping to the sides, exposing her beautiful breasts.

Jack walked to the edge of the stage. “Who do you think killed your dad?”

Several clients shot him startled looks.

“
Step
-dad,” Jeni flinched. “Don’t know. Don’t care.” She turned her back to him and continued dancing.

Jack watched her for a moment. Turning his back on her, Jack left.

Outside the club, when he was reaching for his car door, Jack heard Jeni’s voice.

“Hey!”

He turned. 

Gripping a man’s jacket around her shoulders, Jeni ran to his side and grabbed his arm. “I was totally joking about the book! Don’t tell anybody – ‘K?”

“Silent like the grave,” Jack said, puzzled at her intensity.

“You
have
to promise me. Promise you won’t tell
anyone!
”

“Sure,” Jack shrugged.

“No,
I mean it
. Promise me you’ll forget I ever mentioned it.” Her desperate eyes stared up at him.

Jack nodded, irritated. He didn’t know what game she was playing
, but she reminded him of Stella and all the times she had lied to him.

Jeni smiled uncertainly and hurried back to the club.

Jack watched her disappear behind the red door. Despite his irritation, he fought the almost overwhelming urge to run after her – get her the hell out of that place.

It’s none of my damned business…