Fatal Justice (Jack Lamburt #1)(35)

“Ya know, you really know how to spoil a girl.”

I grinned, the ear-to-ear kind. I could tell she was tipsy because she never complimented me like that unless she’d had a few drinks. No matter how many times a woman tells her man he’s a great lover, it never gets old. I stuck my chest out, the pride oozing from my face.

We did lots of texting too. Me on Sam’s phone, and she on the two stooges’ phones. We’d been going back and forth since I’d dropped Sam off, replicating the stupid shit these three Neanderthals sent to each other so that their associates would think they were still alive. We even had a contest going to see who could come up with the dumbest lines. We were about tied.

In between the texts to each other, I’d managed to send out a few to one of Sam’s associates, Tough Tommy.

Sam: How you doing?

Tommy: Can’t complain. Hows your trip

Sam: Barely surviving with these two numbskulls Tommy: Better you then me

Sam: Might have that way out for us

Tommy: Way out? Whatcha talking about Sam: You know, endgame that we spoke about Tommy: What? Who is this?

Sam: Whatcha talking about who is this. I had that whatchamacallit that I told you about and it went well. I could get you out too if you still want

No response. I waited a few minutes, then texted Tommy again.

Sam: You okay?

Still no answer. Two minutes later, Fatty’s phone vibrated. Debbie picked it up, read the text, and started to type. I slid my chair over to get closer to her and look over her shoulder to see her Shakespearean replies.

Tommy: You with Sam?

Bruno: Yeah, eating dinner. Good fuckin food here. What’s up? You okay?

Tommy: Yeah, I’m fine. Sam’s acting sorta funny Bruno: Whatcha talking about?

Tommy: He’s saying things that don’t make any cents Bruno: He’s just trying to save your ass you numbskull Tommy: What? Call me!

She powered off the phone. “Let him think about that for a while.”

She topped off her sentence with her Hollywood smile. Skinny Jerry’s phone vibrated. She looked down and read it. “Hmm, it’s from a ‘Tommy.’” She faked a surprised look on her face. “You want this?” She held the phone out to me.

“No, thanks, babe, you’re doing a great job.”

Tommy: Where you at?

Jerry: Dinner. You okay?

Tommy: Of course I’m okay. Wise everybody asking if I’m okay?

She placed the phone down on the table and took a sip of wine. She gestured towards the phone. “Let him think for a minute.”

I nodded my appreciation. “Damn. You are good.”

Tommy: You their?

Jerry: Sam didn’t tell you?

Tommy: Tell me what?

Jerry: He can get us all out. Better call him

Two seconds after she hit send, Sam’s phone rang. I let it go to voice mail. Tommy tried calling a few more times, and then I shut the phone off for some peace and quiet.

We finished dinner and took our drinks back to our room. Debbie grabbed her iPod and turned on some Barry White. She showered while I double-checked that the three stooges’ phones were off and stuffed them in my lead-shielded bag. I threw our phones in the bag too. I covered the flat-screen TV with a towel before getting naked and slipping into bed. Wouldn’t want to give any of those HFS workers an inferiority complex.

Debbie came out of the bathroom. Naked.





36





The two of them looked like Hollywood’s version of government stupids. Navy suits, dark red ties, sunglasses, white skin, midforties or maybe older. I made them as soon as they pulled up my driveway in their navy-blue Ford Taurus. Christ. What did these FBI hammerheads want?

I watched them through the feed of the security camera on my laptop. They exited the Ford, looked around, and made their way up my front steps.

I couldn’t resist, and decided to play a little joke on them. I pulled out my Glock.

Before they had a chance to knock on my front door I swung it opened and pressed my Glock against the forehead of the first one.

“You’re trespassing.”

I swear I could see his pupils dilate through his Ray Bans. I smelled shit too, but the odor faded fast so they must have just farted. Guess my Dirty Harry imitation wasn’t good enough. I made a mental note to brush up on that before I used it again.

They both raised their hands in surrender and the lead guy let his ID fall open. “Whoa. Heh. Uhh… Leo Kennedy, FBI. You can put the gun down. We’re looking for Sheriff Lamburt.” His voice cracked like an excited teenager who just found his father’s stash of Penthouse magazines.

I studied his ID, my eyes going from it, to his face, half a dozen times. I enjoyed seeing the sweat gather on his upper lip. I nodded acceptance and smiled. “Sorry, fellas, we’ve been having some Amish gang trouble here lately and I wasn’t expecting visitors. Can’t be too careful, you know.”

They turned and looked at each other, seeming to wonder if I was serious or not. I holstered my Glock and stuck out my hand with my best used car salesman smile. “Sheriff Lamburt, good to meet you fellas.”

Their handshakes were limp and moist. Yuck. Sometimes I hated my job.

“Do you always answer your door pointing your gun at people?” Kennedy asked. His tone was harsh, a real tough talker now that he knew I wasn’t going to blow his head off.