Runner-up 2

Falco watched, mouth hanging open, as his wife smoothly jacked the shotgun, caught the exiting shell in midair and shoved it back into the magazine. She pointed it at Bonner’s midsection. “Still want to find out if it’s loaded, Charlie?” Bonner swallowed and shook his head rapidly.

“Now lose the piece or lose your manhood.” She took a step toward him. “I don’t give second warnings, Charlie!” Bonner threw the weapon in her direction and jumped back.

Falco couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Evelyn? Rose trimming, antique buying Evelyn? Threatening to emasculate Charlie with a shotgun? This had to be the breakdown of all times -- but first things first. He stepped forward and stooped to pick the gun up. “Ernesto’s armed too. . . . “

“Back off, Tony!” she ordered. Falco looked up into the business end of the 12-gauge and froze.

“I don’t understand, Evelyn, this isn’t you! We need to talk” he pleaded.

“That’s all you know how to do, isn’t it Tony, talk.” The shotgun shook, as she became more agitated. “Well, take a look outside and see what all your talk has gotten us. Take a look with your high-tech gadgets and tell me what you see.”

Falco spread his hands helplessly. “I can’t, honey, the camera took a bullet or something. There’s nothing on the monitor -- I can’t see what’s outside.”

Evelyn snorted in disgust. “Then I’ll tell you, Tony. I ran down that hall and looked -- I saw, and I decided you were going to pay.”

“Pay for what?” Falco whined pathetically. “What did I do?”

“You did what you always do when I want something, Tony, you messed it up.”

“What? Just tell me what? I’ll fix it -- just tell me what the problem is. Please.”

Evelyn chuckled sadly and sighed. “We were going away together -- you probably knew that, didn’t you.” She read the question on Falco’s face. “Me and Harry.”

“Who the hell is Harr . . . you mean Hermann -- from across the street?”

She nodded. “Yes, Hermann -- I knew you knew his name.”

“Hermann? What can he offer you?” He saw her look harden. “All right, go. I mean, I don’t want to lose you -- it’ll play hell with my career.” Falco put an expansive smile on his face. “But if it makes you happy, then go.”

Evelyn laughed without smiling, and tears welled in her eyes. “How do I go with a dead man?”

Hauser checked the display again. It was the same number, he was sure. Why would Palmieri be calling again? The last call probably confused him, but there’s no way he thought he was talking to one of those torpedoes lying in the yard.

What the hell! Hauser flipped the phone open. “What do you want now, Vincent?”

Silence, then. “Who is this? Where’s the guy that’s supposed to be there?”

“We had a disagreement. I asked to borrow the phone -- he didn’t say no.”

“All right, let’s get back to who this is, and how you know me.”

“We’ve had a few conversations over the years -- you did all the talking. As for who I am, I’m the guy’s got what you want.”

A pause, “You still on the job? You dirty?” Hauser could hear the smirk.

“Hard to stay clean dealing with scum like you, Vincent”

“And Bonner?”

“He’s out of the equation, but I’ll take the same deal. Yes or no?”

“OK, you bring it to me.” It was not negotiable.

“Where?”

“I’ll call you back.” The line went dead.

Palmieri started punching numbers. He had two other calls to make first.

Errol Miller, a retiree, is an avid film fan who took a couple of writing classes 20 years ago in anticipation of this opportunity.