Frank Sinatra in a Blender by Matthew McBride Read Free Book Online Page A

Peacock was that greasy fuck, Bruno,” Big Tony added.
    “Bruiser?” I asked.
    “Yeah, him.”
    “That fuck with the goofy accent?”
    “That fuck with the goofy accent.”
    I thought about this news and what it meant. A tweaker with that much cash wasn’t long for this world. Somebody’d see to that.
    “How much cash did that asshole Telly get?”
    Big Tony threw up his hands. He didn’t know. Doyle shook his head too.
    I took another drink of Southern Comfort and Mountain Dew and thought about my next move. The picture was beginning to form in my head. Everything was coming together. Bruiser and Telly paid a visit to Norman Russo and they beat him to death with a baseball bat. Then they did a piss poor job of making it look like he’d killed himself. Telly probably wrote the suicide note.
    “Well?” Big Tony asked.
    I needed time to think. It was all happening fast and any money recovered from the heist would be split three ways instead of one—something I didn’t like, but accepted. I took the last mouthful of booze and the last two ice cubes shifted, sloshing drink on my face. I wiped my lip clean with my sleeve.
    Doyle looked at me and I could tell they were going after the money with or without my help. My options were limited—work together or by myself. Three sets of eyes on the street were better than one. I shook the cubes together in my glass.
    “Okay,” I said. “I assume you have a plan?”
    Doyle and Big Tony’d been putting their heads together. The plan they came up with was simple.
    They’d show up at the meeting spot without the drugs and they’d rob him.
    “That’s the plan?” I asked.
    Big Tony shrugged. “Works for me.”
    “Works for me too,” Doyle agreed.
    I pulled a Corona from the pocket of my sport coat and told Big Tony to turn up the heat.
    •••••
     
    The basement of the old church was bitter cold . A thick veneer of ice crusted the stained glass windows as each breath they took filled the room with heat for a moment. Telly’s naked body was strapped to the metal chair. His feet were submerged in metal buckets of ice water that were nearly frozen solid around each foot.
    “Lean him back,” Sid ordered.
    Telly was sickly pale white and shaking so badly his teeth crashed together when he tried for words.
    Sid kicked the buckets out of the way when No Nuts tilted him back and water washed over the floor. Mr. Parker had picked the building up at auction for a song. Now they just used it for storage or a place to cut up bodies.
    “Hey dickhole!” No Nuts barked. He slapped Telly in the face to wake him up.
    “Hear me in there?” No Nuts screamed. “You will talk to us.”
    Telly whimpered and cowered down as low as he could.
    “Where’s the money?” Sid demanded. “Don’t fucking lie to me, cocksucker.”
    No Nuts opened his toolbox.
    “C’mon Telly. Forget where you hid it already?”
    Telly’s expression turned blank. He searched for words to save him but his mouth was paralyzed by cold and fear.
    “Remember?” Sid asked him.
    No Nuts shrugged. “I don’t think he remembers.”
    “Well, he’ll remember being tortured,” Sid said.
    Telly thrashed about.
    “Go head, yell if you want too. Ain’t nobody gonna hear ya.”
    When No Nuts set the toolbox next to his feet, Telly really began to fidget.
    “You look uncomfortable,” No Nuts said indifferently as he removed a hammer. But it wasn’t just any hammer. It was an eight-pound stainless steel industrial hammer. The kind you’d use for driving stakes into the ground to pitch a circus tent. It was brand new; No Nuts pulled the price tag off the handle with his teeth.
    Sid had to admit it was an awe-inspiring tool. “Where’d ya get that bastard, Johnny?”
    Johnny No Nuts smiled like a son who just tied his shoe right for the first time. His round face beamed with self-importance. The wrinkles around his eyes expanded when he spoke.
    “Lowe’s,” he said with pride. “Got it from the