Strong and Wrong - Trunk 7: Trunk, #7

By Steve Marshall

As I ate breakfast, I realized it had been over a year since I killed someone.
Then they murdered Adrian.


Adrian Thompson just wanted a fun night out with his friends. Josh was getting married and they were celebrating.

Four guys out on a bachelor weekend are murdered the same night as another shooting across town at a nightclub.

Police captured Victor Cross, the nightclub shooter, an up and coming professional killer who recently moved from being a street level gun for hire to higher paying contracts.

After days in police custody, he offered them a deal: give him a new name and a new life and he will provide testimony that will put thirty known criminals in jail for murder.

He was offering to rat out all of his customers. The FBI wants the deal and Florida police can close 36 murder cases.

But there is a problem.

Adrian was the younger brother of Trunk's ex-wife, Emmie.

Since his death his girlfriend has stayed hidden in her apartment with a gun. Her past has come back to haunt her.

Another of the four men murdered was a cocaine dealer to the wealthy of Orlando, 99% pure Peruvian product, test results available. He sells it by the ounce with the help of Alice, his posh English girlfriend. Business was good.

Another owns four car washes around the city. He employs the recently paroled and demands ten percent of their wages or he'll give negative reports about them to their parole officers.

With little progress, Emmie asks Trunk to find the killer.

The two cases are unconnected until after weeks in custody and a deal in his pocket, the nightclub shooter confesses to murdering the four men and names a low-level thief as his customer for the job.

Trunk has questions like why was he arrested heading towards the shooting of the four men instead away from it? Why did he wait to confess to this shooting?

On the other side of the world there are different questions.

How far would you go for love?

Would you kill?
Would you steal?
Would you sell false hope to the parents of a sick child to steal their money in order to keep the love of your life alive?

Sarkis Danielian has done all of these things and more.

But that was years ago. Now he is Gregor Kanaan and one of the founders of Thyone Therapeutics, a NASDAQ traded biotech company at the forefront of finding a cure for cancer.

Adrian worked at Thyone.

You remember Mehir Orbach don't you, the teenage psychopath that despises Trunk?

He has a new online business.

In addition to drugs, fake IDs, and stolen credit card numbers, his darknet emporium is pleased to announce the opening of murder-for-hire listings.

Trunk's least favorite person is causing problems again and he could care less about the kid.

But his tech resource, Chandler, is a partner in the darknet business and murder for hire services put not only Mehir and Chandler in danger, but also his and Trunk's therapist, Rabbi Chesed Giller too.

Rabbi Chesed has a new patient, Kendall.

So far she has confessed to multiple murders and is just getting started. And she's coming to town to have her first ever face to face session with her therapist.

Can he survive telling a murderous patient he can't see her anymore?

Breakups with Kendall can be fatal.

Over the years Walter Johnson has saved Trunk's life three times.

Walter is retiring and moving to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, putting down his pistol after nearly forty years.

Strong and Wrong, Trunk #7
Where the bullet meets the barrel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Foxtail Media
• Release date: Mar 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215982945

Book preview

STRONG AND WRONG

by Steve Marshall

Yeah, I wrote this. Blame no one else.

2022 - Florida

Complaints Department:

mailto:[e-mail]

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

LAST NIGHT OUT

CHAPTER TWO

PASSPORTS AND SMITH AND WESSON

CHAPTER THREE

PHONE STEALING KILLER

CHAPTER FOUR

YOU SHOULDA TOLD ME

CHAPTER FIVE

BARE HANDS

CHAPTER SIX

ARMED AND SLEEPY

CHAPTER SEVEN

HIT AND RUN

CHAPTER EIGHT

A MOUNTAIN OF APATHY

CHAPTER NINE

LAMONT MARVIN

(1924 - 1987

CHAPTER TEN

R.I.P.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

BILLBOARDS

CHAPTER TWELVE

SOUTHBOUND

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SUNTRUST BANK

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EVELYN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SARKIS

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CRIMESTOPPER HOT LINE

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

BLUE VAN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

MISTAKES

CHAPTER NINETEEN

SERGIO AND AGNES

CHAPTER TWENTY

NO FIXER-UPPER

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MCGIVENS PARADISE TRAILER PARK

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

HAMMER

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

WHO CAN YOU TRUST?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

A LARGE COMPLICATION

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

YOU DON’T WORK FOR RACHEL?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

LIFE IS RISK, ISN’T IT?

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

DEAR OLD GRANDDAD

CHAPTER THIRTY

WORMOLD

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

THE SEVENTH MAN

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

BASÍLICA DE NUESTRA SEÑORA DE LA MERCED

AND EXPENSIVE BULLETS

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

JULIAN AVILA

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

LAST MINUTE DEAL

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

PEOPLE EXPRESS

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

FOURTH AND GOAL

READER’S GROUP

Steve Who?

CHAPTER ONE

LAST NIGHT OUT

––––––––

As I ate breakfast, I realized it had been over a year since I killed someone.

––––––––

Adrian Thompson walked into the living room of the high-rise apartment. The lights of Orlando twinkled below.

Do you have to wear that jacket? asked Leslie Carson. She got up from the sofa and walked over to Adrian. She brushed her long red hair back over her shoulders with her hand.

Add, you wear this like a security blanket, she complained.

I like this jacket, he replied with a whiny tone of voice.

You look like one of those cool, hip, professors we had at school. Why don’t you wear your contacts tonight? Those glasses are so big. Let them see your beautiful brown eyes, she said.

I like my glasses, Add replied. Everyone sees me with them on all the time. They are a part of me, he said with now more defiance than whining.

OK, if you insist, Leslie replied with a concessional tone.

She straightened the shoulders of his jacket.

You look nice,’ she said with a smile. Don’t argue with Trip, he’s just an ignorant thug. Don’t go down to his level."

Trip. I forgot about him. Oh well, this will be an early night, he said.

Just ignore him, she said.

Easier said than done. You know how he is. Been that way since we were kids, he said.

He is a handful, she agreed.

Should I tell them about the move? Adrian asked.

I wouldn’t. It’s not official, yet. It’s not news until you sign the offer.

You’re right, he said and quickly kissed her cheek.

She pulled him close to her.

You don’t get off that easy, she said with a smile.

Add smiled for a moment before their lips met for a long, soft kiss.

There are plenty more of those if you come home early enough, she said as she patted his butt.

That’s more than enough incentive for me, he said with an awkward smile.

Good. Now give Josh my best. I think Lorraine is getting a jewel, she said.

She is. Nicest guy I know, Add said.

Second nicest I know, Leslie replied.

Thank you, he said with an embarrassed look.

When the limo gets to Trip’s place, make sure he leaves his gun at home. This is a celebration, not one of his shady deals, she said.

Absolutely. Never again. Never again, he replied forcefully as he recalled one of Trips debacles.

Good. Tell Abe hello for me, she said.

I will.

When does his new gym open? she asked.

Next month. I finished the website last night.

You’re such a good friend, she said.

Lifetime free membership, Add said with a smile as he touched his nose several times indicating, he had made a shrewd trade.

Add’s phone buzzed.

It’s here, he said.

Go have a good time. Remember, you’re allergic to cocaine, she said with a smile.

Add chuckled. He didn’t do drugs and rarely drank. He said they made him stupid, and he was allergic to being stupid.

I love you, he said.

I love you, she replied.

Adrian left his apartment and walked towards the elevator.

Hello, Mrs. Shapiro, he said to the elderly lady standing beside the elevator.

Hello, Adrian. How are you tonight? she asked.

Fine. Going out for a bachelor’s night, he said.

You be careful young man. Don’t become a police statistic, she said.

Yes, ma’am. They won’t have any excuses, he said. What about you? What are you doing tonight?

I’ve been trying to decide. Probably a graffiti night. Tag a few cop shops. The usual, Ester Shapiro, 82 years old said.

Adrian smiled. He liked this about Mrs. Shapiro. She would always say the most outrageous things when he asked about her plans. He reminded himself that even rebels get old and elderly. Last time he asked she told him she was off to rob a bank. The old lady was a hoot.

When are you and Leslie going to get married? she asked him.

Next year. I need a few months at my new job before I pop the question, he said.

Don’t let a beauty like her get away, Mrs. Shapiro said. Don’t let the racial difference get in the way either.

We’re past those times, I hope, he said.

I hope so too. You should have heard all the shit they said when I told my parents I was marrying a non-believer. They were furious. I didn’t talk to them for three years, that’s how long it took them to apologize, she said.

Was it that bad? he asked.

Worse that you can imagine. I never forgave my father for what he said, she replied.

Damn, that’s serious, Add said as the bell in the elevator announce their arrival at the ground floor.

Add let Ester Shapiro exit the elevator first. He looked down at the marble floors.

Don’t slip, Mrs. Shapiro. Would you like me to help you? he asked.

No. I’ve got on my special shoes. They are like glue on marble. Ever since Rita fell and broke her hip, I won’t walk in here without them on, she said.

Good for you, Add replied.

His phone rang.

See you tomorrow, Mrs. Shapiro, he said.

I look forward to it, she said as she walked towards the side exit of the large building.

Adrian answered his phone.

Yo, motherfucker, are you ready to party? the voice on the other end of the phone yelled in his ear.

Yes, Trip, I’m ready for a night out. Where are you? he asked.

We’re all in the limo parked outside your front door. Now get your black ass moving, he said.

Screw you, Trip, Adrian said.

That’s the spirit, Trip replied then disconnected the call.

Adrian walked out the front door of the high-rise building. A man in a white shirt wearing a bowtie was hold the door to the limo open. Inside of the limo he could hear his friends.

Good evening, sir, said the man.

Good evening, Adrian replied.

Get the fuck in here, Rain Man, he heard Trip demand.  Did you remember your inhaler? he asked with a chuckle.

Leave him alone, said Josh, brushing his long blond hair from his face.

Adrian plopped down in one of the leather seats.

How you doing, Rain Man? asked Trip with a smile as he extended his hand.

Pretty good. I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me Rain Man, Adrian replied.

You were my rain man. If it wasn’t for you, I’d never have graduated college. Statistics 101 almost killed me, he said.

True, but it didn’t and calling me Rain Man hurts my feelings, Adrian said with a soft tone.

Toughen up, brother. Toughen up, Trip said with a smile.

Trip leaned back in the plush leather seat. He put his arms across the top of the seat. Adrian could see the gun in the shoulder holster.

Did you really have to bring a gun? Adrian asked.

Dumb question, Adrian Nelson Thompson. You know my business or at least part of it. A smart person wouldn’t even bother to ask, he said.

Fair enough. But this isn’t one of your deals. We won’t be around your associates tonight. Just law-abiding citizens, said Adrian.

Not too law abiding, said Josh as he put his hand out to Trip and said, refill?

Certainly, said Trip. He reached into his coat pocket, removed a small brown vial, and handed it to Josh.

I want some too, said Abe, a man who looked uncomfortable in a suit, his muscular physique straining against the fabric.

What about you, Add? You wanna try the purest cocaine in Orlando? he said.

No, thank you.

Sorry I forgot. Nothing that can kill you. That’s your rule, right? Trip asked.

That’s the one, Add answered.

Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered, said Trip.

He reached into his other coat pocket and removed an eight-inch cannabis cone.

Sativa or Indica? Add asked.

Sativa for now. The indica is for later if we get lucky, said Trip.

Please no strip clubs, said Adrian.

Come on, Add, said Josh. It’s my last weekend as a single man. After tonight, no more strip clubs ever. And it’s not that I even like them, I don’t. But after tonight, I can’t, even if I don’t want to. It’s a loss of freedom, Add. You understand, right? Josh pleaded.

Yes, I understand. I just feel uncomfortable around the women in those places.

Uncomfortable should be the last thing you feel. When a man’s hung like a horse, being around naked women shouldn’t make you nervous, it should make you feel like a king, said Trip with a smile. Unless of course, Leslie has cut some of it off because it’s too much, he said.

Adrian didn’t reply. He just gave an embarrassed smile.

You should have had a career in porn instead of computers, Rain Man, said Trip. If I had your dick there’d be a line of women waiting to fuck me.

Sometimes I want to hit you, Trip, Adrian said. You will use a racist stereotype just because it’s funny.

It is funny, Trip said emphatically.

Don’t be an asshole, Trip, Abe said.

I have all the woman I want in Leslie, Adrian said firmly.

So, when are you going to pop the question? Josh asked changing the subject.

Early next year, Adrian replied.

Is it true what they say about redheads? Trip asked.

What do they say? Adrian asked.

They are wild in the bed and crazy in the head, Trip answered.

Our sex life is not open for discussion. However, I can assure you that Leslie is not crazy. She’s just really smart. Smarter than me, Adrian answered.

Bullshit. She can’t be smarter than you, Rain Man, Trip replied.

She is.

Impossible, said Trip.

Come on, Trip, said Abe, the girl’s ain’t no dummy.

So, Josh, what is Lorraine doing tonight? Adrian asked.

She’s meeting with a makeup artist and hair stylist, Josh replied.

She’s so pretty, they can only make her look worse, said Abe.

True that. You got lucky, Josh. No man, not even one as pretty as you, deserves an angel as beautiful as Lorraine, said Trip.

Adrian sighed. He was getting tired of being around Trip already. Usually, it took a couple of hours before he was sick of him. But tonight, it took less than twenty minutes. 

Do you have a light? Adrian asked Trip holding up the joint he had been handed.

You know I do, said Trip and handed him an electronic lighter.

Adrian lit the joint and took a long drag.

There you go, you’ll be feeling better any moment now, said Trip. Ain’t medical cannabis wonderful?

Sure is, said Adrian before taking another long draw and handing it to Trip.

I’ve always wanted to do this, said Trip.

He pressed the button to open the large sunroof of the limo. Then he stood up and looked over the roof of the car. He took a long drag from the joint, exhaled, and took another before sitting back down and handing it to Josh.

Was it everything you expected? asked Josh.

Yes, Trip replied. Exactly what I expected, a bug flew in my mouth, and I smelled fried chicken cuz we passed Popeye's.

They all laughed.

The window between the passengers and the driver lowered.

Gentlemen, we’ll be there in about five minutes.

Thanks, Vic, said Trip.

What’s our first stop? Adrian asked.

"Infinity,’ said Trip.

Infinity was a popular whiskey bar.

Excellent choice, said Abe.

Definitely, echoed Josh.

What do you think, Add? Infinity sound good to you? Trip asked.

Sounds fine with me. I’m sure they have orange juice or diet coke, he said.

Well, you better finish hitting that blunt before we get there, Trip advised.

Yeah, said Adrian and took another long draw before passing it to Trip.

We can do coke in the club, right? asked Josh.

Discreetly, sure. Pour a line out on the table? Afraid that’s not going to happen, said Trip. I know the owner. We can’t get him in trouble with the cops. It’s not a techno club. It’s a whiskey bar, a place for sniffing, swishing, and sipping. You know, sophisticated shit like that.

Gotcha, said Josh.

Suddenly the limo lurched to the left, then over to the right even harder. An instant later the limo crashed and came to an abrupt stop. All four men in the back were thrown violently forward. Josh flew forward and hit the wall separating the passengers from the driver. Adrian landed on top of him. Trip hit his head on the window of the door and fell violently back into the seat, blood running down his face.

Abe flew forward and managed to put his hands in front of him. He broke his wrist when he hit the front bulkhead.

Abe and Adrian were conscious. Josh and Trip were not.

What the fuck happened? Abe asked. Damn this hurts, he said angrily with a grimace.

We crashed into something. I’ll get out and look, Adrian replied. He took Josh’s pulse. Then he took Trips. Satisfied that his two friends were alive he moved towards the door.

He hadn’t reached the door of the limo when he heard the popping sound of a gun.

What the hell? he said.

Get Trip’s gun, Abe yelled. Hurry!

Adrian moved towards Trip’s unconscious body. Right as his hand reached the shoulder holster, the door to the limo opened.

Fuck, yelled Abe.

Shit, said Adrian as he turned around with the gun in his hand.

He never got to shoot.

A semi-automatic machine pistol sprayed the occupants of the limousine. The police report said twenty-three bullets were fired into the four passengers. Two were used on the driver.

There were no survivors.

*****************************************

That was three weeks ago.

The local time was around seven in the morning when the tablet sitting on the table in the main cabin of our boat began to ring. I was sitting at the table eating my breakfast. I picked it up and answered the video call.

The woman on the other end of the call was crying.

What’s wrong? I asked her.

Trunk, I need your help.

CHAPTER TWO

PASSPORTS AND SMITH AND WESSON

––––––––

Chandler and Kevin were sitting in front of the webcam in their office. Our video connection was excellent, no buffering.

Holly and I were on our boat in the Dominican Republic.

Are you sure? Holly asked.

Absolutely, Kevin replied as Chandler nodded his head beside him.

Anyone with a record gets flagged? I asked him.

Not exactly, it’s more insidious than that, said an obviously manic Chandler. He wasn’t on his meds again.

How? Holly asked.

It’s not just a criminal conviction record. It also considers a person’s arrest record, said Chandler before taking another sip from his Red Bull.

Should you really be drinking that shit? I asked him.

Chandler is important to me, so his health and mental health is important to me. My concern is rational, not emotional.

It’s bad for you, Channey, said Holly with a concerned tone of voice.

I’ll take it under advisement. Now let’s get back to work, he said with a firm tone followed by a little giggle.

Have you ever been arrested? Chandler asked me.

Yes, I said.

Any felony convictions? Chandler asked.

Yes.

Ever been arrested for murder? he asked.

Yes, but I didn’t do it and they found the guy who did, I answered truthfully.

In the interest of full disclosure, I did dispose of the body of the dearly departed in question. But he was dead when I got there. Oops, I almost forgot to mention, he deserved it too. Snitches always do. 

But Immigration doesn’t have police records, said Holly. So how do they know?

Big data. Specifically, the Advanced Alert Person of Interest Program. A large data warehouse sponsored by tax dollars and your friends at the FBI, a real-time data warehouse that keeps a copy of all arrest, convictions, and incarceration records. It gets real time feeds from law enforcement agencies around the country. It also distributes information in real time to subscriber agencies.

Like Immigration? I asked.

Yes, but they are more of a trigger for law enforcement notification, said Kevin.

So, if I enter my own country, no outstanding warrants or charges, the cops are notified that I’m back? I asked.

Yep, said Chandler. Everyone from the Immigration Officer who takes your passport, to the homicide detectives in Jacksonville will know a person of interest has re-entered the country, where and when, all in real time. Ding, it’s a notification on their phones.

Damn, I said.

But you’ve got it covered don’t you. I set you up with a solid source for a new you, said Kevin. I know someone else who is using it without a problem.

I know, I replied.

Still don’t want to use it? Kevin asked referring to my fake passport.

Not to enter the US. Anywhere in the Caribbean, I’m fine. No worries. But I will not go to Federal Prison for 10 years for a passport. And if I get caught there will be a line of law enforcement pushing for the maximum sentence. Not willing to take the chance.

What are you going to do? How are you going to come home? Chandler asked with a goofy smile.

One week later...

I was standing on the bow of Claire and Archie’s sailboat. Holly was beside me. I checked the waterproof bag tied around my waste. We were about four hundred yards offshore of a beach and inlet near St. Augustine, Florida. Onshore in the distance I could see two men on the beach in the early dawn.

Good luck with the courses, I said.

Thanks, I’ll do well, Holly replied.

I know you will, I said.

Holly was getting her American Sailing Association certifications. It will save 10% on our boat insurance.

See you later today? she asked.

Count on it, I said as the first glimmers of sunrise started to come up over the horizon of the Atlantic Ocean.

Holly kissed me for a long time. I waved to Claire and Archie who were standing in the cockpit, Claire at the wheel. Then I dove off the bow of the boat and swam towards the shore.

They would check into the country legally. There was a berth at a marina waiting for them.

The water was a little cooler than in the Dominican Republic but nothing like the cold Pacific in California.

Hey, here’s some good news. I don’t get seasick that much anymore. As long as I go sailing at least once every two weeks, even if it’s just for a few hours, I don’t get seasick. We tend to get to a place we like and just park it for a few weeks or months. It’s like that on island time. We go sailing for the fun of it, exploring this anchorage and island then another one, the come back to our favorite anchorage. I’m getting better at sailing too. Holly is still a better sailor than me and I’m better at fixing things when they break. But together we make one skilled fair-weather sailor. 

The swim to the beach took me about ten minutes. I walked out of the Atlantic as the two men walked towards me.

Glad to be home again? Chandler asked me with a giggle and a handshake.

No, but it’s good to see you again, I said.

Why not tell him the truth? I was glad to see the sometimes impulsive and often dangerous little bastard. He is entertaining until the fuck ups start.

Well, I’m glad to see you too, said Chandler and he handed me a towel.

I dried myself as we walked towards their car.

Get everything? I asked Kevin.

Yep, said Chandler.

A Tesla? I said looking at Kevin’s new car when we reached that parking area.

A Tesla. It’s so fast. Outrun everything but a police helicopter. I love burning those little boys in their little toy Camaro and Corvettes, Kevin replied.

Tell him about the Ninja, said Chandler with an excited tone.

Had a kid on a Kawasaki Ninja pull up beside me and challenge me, said Kevin with a smile. When the light changed, I floored it. He floored it and his little motorcycle got away from him and ran itself up on the sidewalk. It was hilarious. Kinda shit you post to YouTube for a million views with a good title Kevin added.

Chandler can follow instructions when he wants to. Or if it’s a mission to dress a straight man. That might be a gay cliche but in Chandler’s case it simply was the way of his world. I’ve been shopping with him before. It was a hilarious event. I will never wear checked pants, no matter how much he pleads.

He got the jacket, the gray t-shirt, and the Levi jeans perfectly. But the motherfucker got me bright red sneakers.

They didn’t have black? I asked holding up the sneakers.

They did, but the red was screaming at me to give you some contrast, Chandler said.

They’re memorable and that makes them a problem, I said firmly but politely. It was what some call a learning moment. The guy with the red shoes? Oh yeah, I remember him, sure that guy. I saw him.

Chandler was silent for a moment and finally nodded and said, you’re right. Sorry about that. I’ll get you some black ones. Amazon delivery today, OK?

Thank you, I replied.

I rode in the passenger seat next to Kevin. My ruby red sneakers were very comfortable.

Wanna see what it will do? he asked me.

Sure, impress me, I said with a well-practiced smile.

It did impress me. Instant torque that pushed me hard into the seat. I liked it. It wasn’t my first time in a Tesla, and it won’t be my last.

Wow, I said. Better than the rides at Disney.

Ain’t it though, Chandler added from the back seat. The speed made him giddy, and he had a huge grin on his face.

The ride back to their office took about a half an hour. Their office was tidier than I remember. Chandler goes on manic cleaning missions sometimes. I could smell the lemon and mint scents of the cleaners he used.

Let me get you a phone, said Kevin as he opened his desk. You still don’t like Apple?

Yep, I said.

Android it is then, he said and opened a different drawer, took out a telephone and handed it to me.

Thanks, I said.

You’re welcome, Dennis, Kevin said.

So how is business? I asked.

Better than ever, said Kevin. I’ve been doing some background investigations for a law firm. Finding those deleted racist tweets from years ago. Shit like that.

How is the fake review business doing?

Amazon gets better at finding them and we get better at making them. Add more misspellings does the trick sometimes. Amazon knows that the average person makes between 2 and 4 misspellings per 100 words and at least one grammatical mistake, their, there, they’re kind of shit. When China dumps thousands of perfectly spelled reviews but with much higher levels of grammatical mistakes, Amazon identifies them and nukes them. It’s hard to do fake reviews in a foreign language. I couldn’t do it in Mandarin, that’s for sure, said Kevin.

So, Amazon wipes out your competitor’s reviews? I asked.

Life is sweet. Buy American, said Chandler with a nervous laugh as he signed back into the computers on his desk. Six monitors snapped to attention.

Trunk, remember that friend of yours, Kendall? Kevin asked as he checked something on his screen and nodded his head happily when he found what he was looking for.

Sure, what about her?

She still has one of our phones. She gets the weekly security patches. She’s been using it from Croatia. Calling back to Jacksonville. She talks to your Rabbi friend, Chesed, twice a week. Everyone else turned their phones back in before they left. She didn’t. Just thought you should know. Kevin said.

I had suggested to Kendall that she talk to Chesed in his role as a licensed therapist. She keeps killing men who she suspects murdered her high school boyfriend. She has been wrong about it more than once and admitted killing the wrong men. A year of free therapy is what I offered her to help get her in a better place and stop her high-risk revenge.

Then she met Mortis. I thought her joining Mortis and the Hoag Division would stop her killing spree and she’d go back to what’s she good at, getting paid for it. A professional killer has one important advantage over most other killers, they don’t have a prior relationship with the target. Makes them much harder to find. When she joined the Hoag Division, she was supposed to leave with nothing but the clothes on her back. That was the rule. All prior life relationships are over. No exceptions.

Her employer would kill her if they found the phone.

Then they would kill Chesed.

Worst of all its Kendall, by neuro-normal standards she’s a bigger fuck up than I am. Maybe that’s why we get along so well, birds of a feather.

We have a weird relationship because it’s based on a neuro-normal standard, but one that I am very comfortable with. She is like the little sister I have that survived and grew into a pretty, but seriously fucked up adult. She gets falling down drunk to stop having dreams about the people she’s killed. I am her bodyguard when she goes on one of her benders. But she’s cute and attracts men like flies at a fish market. I make sure she doesn’t kill them.

If she gets drunk enough, she gets a full night of sleep. If she doesn’t, she only gets three hours. A tired, angry Kendall is dangerous. When she drinks, I keep her gun.

I wanted Kendall to get help because she was drinking herself to death. I know it’s her choice to do so. But it’s a problem and I thought I had a fix for it. Problem solver, remember? That’s my role in life. Fixing shit. I was hoping Chesed could ween her off the booze and give her some help sleeping. 

Glad I don’t have that problem. I just don’t think of the people I’ve killed. I also have very little dream recall but I think that is due to the cannabis mostly and is absolutely fine with me. Small price to pay for that nice, chilled feeling of being stoned.

If anybody ever kills me, I hope it’s Kendall. I wouldn’t mind it so much if it were her. I know she’d do a professional job. Clean, no suffering, gone in an instant.

Thanks for telling me about the phone, I said to Kevin. I’m going to see Chesed while I’m in town. I’ll ask him about it, I added.

There is one more thing.

Don’t tease me, I said.

Chandler set up an online business for the kid, Mehir. Darkweb market site.

What’s he selling? I asked.

Usual stuff. Drugs, fake driver’s licenses, stolen credit cards, software licenses.

No shit, I said. Thanks for letting me know.

There’s a problem. It’s expanding Kevin said.

Expanding? I asked.

I walked in on Chandler and Mehir arguing last week. Channey was refusing to create a directory structure for murder for hire offerings. Mehir had to set it up himself and wasn’t happy about it. He’s getting into something he shouldn’t. If they ever find out who he is, they will kill him. Remember the Silk Road, they got him in the end and everyone thought he was untouchable.

But he doesn’t advertise his identity.

He doesn’t. But mistakes happen. It’s one thing to have the Feds and Interpol trying to catch you. It’s another to have a murder for hire businesses looking to kill a competitor, Kevin said.

Yeah, they don’t have an arrest option, I replied.

It’s already a lucrative business, Kevin said. He doesn’t need to add that.

I understand.

Yeah, I don’t really give a shit. It’s Mehir. If the little shit wants to fuck up and get himself killed, who am I to stand in his way? Him gone is a plus positive for the species, right? Just a high IQ fuck up getting in over his head. Who cares? I don’t and neither should you.

Regrettably, changing my mind is proof that it still works. Upon further thought...

Should Mehir screw up and make it possible for competitors to identify him, others in his life may also be at risk. Yeah, that includes his therapist. What did the kid tell Chesed? Don’t know? Why take a chance, kill the therapist? Those dots are easy to connect, they are so close they almost touch. Think problem solving, not morality. It’s a solid solution, kill the therapist.

Now I’ve heard about two problems and both of them intersect at my therapist. Don’t need a Venn diagram to see that.

Mehir was insisting on making a major decision early in his life. It took me much longer. I was seventeen before I knew for sure I wanted to be a criminal. First big score does that.

Denise came by about an hour later. The tall African American woman was wearing a blue business suit with a string tie. She could have been a pharmaceutical company rep calling on doctors or something like that. She looked all business and professional. Good cover.

With her was a leather bag.

It’s been a while, she said when she saw me.

Off living the good life, I said.

Save me a seat, she answered.

Come on down anytime. Island time is waiting for you, I said.

"I might actually take you up on that,’ she said.

And I might actually be really glad if you did, I replied. Holly would love to see you again. They were in class together at the University of North Florida.

––––––––

Denise and I walked into the smoking room. Chandler left the room but kept the techno music playing.

You look so good in blue, Chandler told her as he left.

Thank you, she said.

Stop by my desk and get your phone updated before you leave, okay? he asked her.

Of course, she replied with a smile.

She opened her bag once Chandler was out of earshot.

Two Smith & Wesson M&P9 M2.0 Compact Optics Ready Thumb Safety 9mm Luger 4in Black Pistols - 15+1 Round, she said as she handed one of them to me.

Excellent, I said as I raised the gun to my sight line then began my usual inspection. It was well oiled.

Got 500 rounds to go with them, she said. And a couple of extras to make you smile.

She reached into her bag and handed me two silencers/ suppressors, one for each Smitty.

Perfect. How much?

"Five