It was a good fifteen seconds before he noticed I had not risen from my seat.
“I’m sorry,” he sat once again, “was there anything further?”
“Your receptionist must not have recognized it.”
“No — no reason for her to do so…” That seemed to get him thinking again.
“Maybe a good Samaritan found it somewhere?” That one was a bit of a setup, and even in his distracted state, Galt seemed to know it.
“No. No name tag. And how would they know to call your offices?”
“Maybe something in the pockets?” No reaction.
“Unlikely.” He sifted through the pockets as we spoke. “I make it a rule not to keep anything in my coat pockets. Fouls the hang of the garment. Just as leaving a jacket hanging from a cheap metal hanger for an extended period will do irreparable damage.”
I wondered to myself whether anyone had ever beaten the mouthy little bugger to a teary-eyed mess when he was a child. I thought not. No one would talk that way if they had any idea what a punch to the face felt like.
I concluded it was time to get out before I committed a criminal act. But as I stood to leave, I spotted a photo resting on a mantle above the faux fireplace.
“Your wife?”
The picture was of Galt and a woman at some southern resort. He wore a Tommy Bahamas top and beach shorts. She wore a spectacular fluorescent green two piece, spectacular primarily because of the engineering required to suspend the enormous boobs jutting from her chest. The grin on his face made him look like the guy in the Saturday paper who is photographed holding the winning ticket from the prior night’s lottery.
“Oh no. That’s Dianne, my girlfriend. We’ve been dating for a few years now. Quite the little minx, I must say.”
The guy was an insufferable twit. It was pretty apparent to me that the bathing beauty in the picture was Dianne Morgan, former receptionist at Bindings and now apparently number one girlfriend of the owner. I did not want to hear about his rolls in the hay with Ms. Morgan and her silicone twins.
“No plans of marriage?”
“Oh, well I’ve been that route, and it wasn’t much fun.” As usual, I had managed to insert my entire foot into my mouth. “The woman was insufferable, and a bore in the bedroom.”
With that, Galt dismissed me as though I was the hired help (which in a sense I was). He turned to face a client, leaving me staring at his back. I considered grabbing him by the neck and driving his head through one of the glass cabinets, but common sense prevailed. I was going to head home, see if Ted had managed to leave me any Guinness in the fridge. Maybe nine or ten beers would help put this buffoon out of my mind.
“Calling his ex names again, was he?”
“Hmm?” It was Galt’s receptionist. The new, icy one.
“Acts like he’s hard done by. He was the one having the affair.”
With Ms. Massive Mammaries, no doubt.
“You think the wife knew?”
“Not at first. But I think she found out.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. “When she figured it out she went after him big time, but he lawyered up with one of the biggest names in town. Ended up keeping it all, and leaving his wife in the cold. If I were her, I’d want to kill the bastard.”
Interesting. I mulled that over for a moment.
“Any chance you have her address?”
“Yup. Hang on for just a moment.”
I took the address from her and headed out the door. Ms. Veronica Galt. I could see her being angry enough to plant the fearstone. After spending just five minutes with her ex, I was surprised she didn’t just poison him and get it over with.
CHAPTER 25
“Visitor for Donnie.”
I sighed and put my sandwich back down. BLT on brown, not toasted. It would have to wait.
I entered Reception to find Niki waiting for me. Again. I had expected it to take two, maybe three weeks before he got a little edgy. This was way beyond my greatest expectations.
He looked like bran cereal after it has hardened to the bottom of the bowl. Dark shadows under both eyes, his hair unkempt with some gummy wad knotted up in a clump just above his temple. His clothes were rumpled and smelled, though it was hard to tell if that was unusual or not.
Kara was eyeing him warily, obviously recalling the threat of gunplay during his last visit. The smell of cheap cigarettes emanated off Niki like steam off a pile of fresh dog shit.
“You! You are going to tell me what this goddamnable thing is.” He thrust his hand at me, emphasizing the curse ring wedged onto his fat pinky finger.
I said nothing for a moment, taking it all in. Nicotine fingers now with nails chewed past the quick — angry red marks where he had broken skin. His hand trembled. Fury on his face, but fear too. That was what I had wanted to see. Between the ring and a few nights in jail, Niki was feeling the squeeze big time.
“I leave here, and get into an accident not three blocks away. With a police car.” I snorted, he growled. “Then I get home to find someone has broken in, stolen my TV and stereo. That had better not have been you, Donnie Elder.”
“Right. You’re the mugger, pal, not me.”
“Nyet? Well, Donnie Elder, with the week I have had, you will have much to regret.”
I smirked. For once I was enjoying one of these impromptu get togethers. That is, until the gun came out. Again.
“Oh!” Kara cried out, and dropped into her chair with a thud. I tried to catch her eye, to let her know it would be all right, but she was clearly terrified.
“What did you do to me, you shit?” I could see anger, fear, and uncertainty in those eyes. He pushed at the ring with his gun-hand, trying to lever the thing off his finger. Then he waved his hand like a grade school girl trying to fend off a bee.
“You wanted it, you got it, asshole. Now let’s see you get rid of it.”
In hindsight, it was maybe the stupidest thing I have ever done. Maybe. I’ve done a lot of stupid things. Still, it’s a good thing he acted before I had chance to consider the implications.
With a quick jerk, he jammed the pistol into my shoulder and pulled the trigger.
Behind me I heard Kara gasp. But I didn’t utter a sound.
Click.
I kept my face calm, and held back from clocking the son of a bitch.
Click. Click.
“Got a problem there?”
He jerked at the trigger again, then pulled back and swung the pistol at my head. I simply reacted, thrusting my hand up and out. Grabbed the pistol, and twisted hard.
Crack.
“Aaauggghhhh!”
He held the pistol awkwardly, but I could see the finger holding the trigger guard had bent like a straw. Niki dropped to one knee, cradling the gun and hand.
I crouched down, and lifted his chin.
“Hey.”
His eyes were wet with tears, focused on his badly broken finger.
“Hey.” That got his attention.
“You tell anyone, and it’ll just get worse.” It was another gamble, but my hope was that he wouldn’t tell anyone how he had screwed up. If he did, and they could break the curse, I was in for a serious ass-whooping. At best.
“What is it you want?”
“Bring me the package you stole, and I’ll take the ring back.”
“Mother-.” He tensed to come at me again, but must have seen something in my eyes. He may also have been learning. With that ring on his finger, nothing was going to work out well for him.
“I cannot. Maxim has it.”
I curled my hand around the back of his neck, and steered him to the door.
“When you get the package, drop by.” Shove to the back. “Until then, keep your head down.”
Veronica Galt lived in a tenement building north of King, west of Dufferin. Some would say the area was undergoing a revival with a thriving arts community. I was somewhat more cynical. My hope was that I could get back to the van by sunset.