Bombshell

“Fine, but I want to leave right after breakfast tomorrow, and I need another favor.”

“What, dude? You’re starting to push it. You’re going to owe me so much.”

“I need new identification for Bombshell.”

“For who?”

“The damsel in distress. That’s her stage name. She doesn’t have any identification, and I need you to get her some. Also, I want to take her to the hospital tomorrow, so add her to the payroll and backdate her start date so the insurance company doesn’t give us any crap.”

“You don’t ask for much, do you, bro?”

After clarifying exactly what he wanted on the identification and what pay rate and position Mona Lisa Van Dyke would have at the hotel, he thought about the other issue.

“Have you said anything to Mom about what’s going on?”

“Nope, just that you got in a bar fight and lost an eye.”

Merrick snorted. If he’d told Mama G that bit of news, she’d have flown the helicopter herself to check on him. “Seriously, what does she know?”

“Nothing, except… okay, she was getting on my case again about Calista being gone, so I told her you found a new performer.”

Merrick gulped. Now he really needed Bombshell to come back with him to Atlantic City. “Well, at least you didn’t tell her what I told the girl. That would flip her out,” Merrick said, unable to stifle a laugh.

“What? What did you tell the girl?” Tony prodded.

“I told you that she’s got amnesia, right?”

“Yeah, you mentioned that.”

“Well, I wanted to make sure she’d come back to Atlantic City, so I told her that the two of us were

engaged.”

“Bro. No way!” Tony said. “Oh, that’s priceless. Wait until Mama G hears this.”

“No, Tony, you can’t tell her!”

Merrick gaped at the phone. Tony had hung up. He called him back right away, but Tony had already transferred his phone to the answering service. Damn him. Merrick wished he had his cell phone. Then he could text his half brother all the details of what he’d do to him if he dared to say anything to Mama G about the fake engagement.

Chapter Six

Sheriff Harold Buck got out of the shower and put on his uniform. He went into the kitchen and filled a plastic tumbler with ice. Unscrewing the top from a bottle of Smirnoff, he poured until the liquid was almost to the top. After grabbing a bottle of canned grapefruit juice and topping off his breakfast with some vitamin C, he sat down at the table and readied his gun for the daily cleaning. He stopped before taking the cloth to it, and stared at the fouling dusted along the barrel. He looked inside the barrel and saw more evidence that the gun had been recently fired.

He put the gun down and rubbed his temple, trying to remember when and where he’d used his gun. A growl in his stomach made him forget about the gun.

“Jana,” he yelled towards the back of the house. “Make me some breakfast.”

But Jana didn’t respond. And he remembered. He got up, taking his drink with him, walked across his pristine living room, and opened the door to the guest room. All her things were still there, so where was she? Then he remembered. She’d left him. She’d – left – him!

Harold’s jaw clenched. He downed the rest of the liquid, then threw the glass against the wall. The motion made him groan as he felt something ache in his chest. His face hurt as well. He walked back to his bathroom and examined his face. When had he gotten in a fight? His nose was swollen – not broken, but badly bruised. He lifted his shirt and saw an ugly bruises blooming under his rib cage. He thought about the gun that had been recently fired. Had he killed someone?

He went back to the living room and cleaned up the broken glass, picking up the ice cubes melting on his carpet. He picked up the phone and called in to dispatch.

“How are things, Heidi?” he asked.

“All’s well,” she answered, but there was something in her voice that belied her cheery disposition.

After wiping down the water spots in the sink and putting away his liquor, he retrieved several trash bags and a large rock from the backyard. He wiped the fingerprints off his service revolver and emptied the chamber. Placing the gun in one of the bags, he rolled the bag around it, then secured it with duct tape. Then he placed that bundle into another black trash bag and this time added the heavy rock. He put on his equipment belt and put his spare Glock in the holster.