“You got something what ain’t yours.”

The books again.

Teddy raised his voice, called out to his brother. “He’s awake, Eddie.”

Eddie came in, chewing his gum like it was a meaningful relationship. “Word up, Ted.”

“Shut up talking like that. You find it?”

“Naw. Buncha regular house shit, clothes and whatnot. One pretty fly set of golf clubs.”

“I’ll fly you, idiot. I told you, stop talking like a mooli.”

“Get with the times, home boy.”

“I don’t want you watching no more MTV. It’s fucking up your brain.” Teddy turned his ire on me. “Okay, Charlie sport, you know the routine. You either tell us, or we mash you into hamburger, and then you tell us.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Playing dumb wouldn’t help, of course, but you had to go through the steps.

“He’s dissing you, Teddy,” said Eddie.

Teddy frowned at his brother. To me he said, “I’m giving you one last chance.”

I didn’t answer. I was trying to think of something I could do or say to keep the Minelli boys from stomping my balls.

Teddy nodded at his brother. “Get his attention.”

Eddie put the heel of his boot into the palm of my wounded hand, twisted, bore down hard with all his weight, grinning like a sadistic moron.

Pain lanced up my arm, past my elbow to my shoulder. It felt like I was being sliced open with a laser. Sweat broke out on my forehead, chest, under my arms. I fought hard to keep my face straight, didn’t show the hurt.

“You should open an acupressure clinic, Eddie,” I said, proud to keep my voice steady. “You have a soft touch, like a little girl’s.”

Teddy chuckled. “Now he’s dissing you, Eddie.”

Eddie scowled at his older brother and kicked me in the head.

“Never mind,” said Teddy. “Old Charlie’s a pro. Go get the stuff out of the car, the extra battery and the clips. We’ll put a few volts through him, see if that loosens his tongue.”

“Dope,” said Eddie. “Real dope.”

“Just get the fucking stuff.”

Eddie left. Teddy leaned toward me, pulled a silencer out of his pocket, and screwed it on the end of his pistol. “This is a damn shame,” Teddy said in a low voice. “How’d you let this happen? A pro like you. Look at you. You’re a mess.”

“Stan know you’re here?” Half my brain carried on the conversation. The other half started piecing together some kind of strategy. I gathered strength. Something would have to happen soon while Eddie was out of the house.

“Nobody’s seen Stan. Probably split town. He don’t fuck up like you. You should know better than to take something away from a job.”

“My… head. I…” My breath came in short gasps.

“That kick Eddie gave you rattled your brains.”

“Uh…” My head rolled to one side. My eyes rolled up.

Teddy kicked my feet. “None of that, asshole. We need you awake, so we can find that stuff.”

“Stuff is in… the…” My voice was barely a whisper.

“What?” Teddy leaned closer, nudged me again with his shoe. “Speak up for Christ’s sake.”

I mumbled, an inaudible rasp between my lips.

“Son of a bitch.” Teddy knelt next to me, leaned over.

I sat up as hard and as fast as I could, thrust my head forward and smashed it into Teddy’s nose. I heard the cartilage snap, but didn’t spend any time congratulating myself.

Teddy brought the pistol around. I blocked it with my bad hand, ignoring the agony. The pistol sneezed out a bullet, which shattered an antique perfume bottle on Ma’s dresser. I aimed a kick at his balls but missed. My foot landed in his belly, and he deflated like a set of bagpipes, fell on the floor next to me and let go of the pistol.

I got my good hand around his throat and cut off his air. I brought my knee up twice with all my strength, landing two more blows to his gut. He turned red, then purple. Teddy’s struggles were perfunctory now. I held on until he was done. Then I rolled away gasping for breath, my heart drumming a mambo.

Eddie came into the bedroom, car battery and cables in his arms. I grabbed the pistol off the shag before he processed what was going on.

“Shit.” Eddie dropped his torture kit and made for the stairs.

I popped a slug into his thigh.

He fell, rolled, his hand darting into his jacket and coming out with some sort of atomic pistol the size of a rocket launcher. If he pulled the trigger on that thing, he’d wake up the world. Patrol cars would be here in two seconds.

I squeezed the trigger three times fast, and the silencer dulled each shot to a high-pitched poot. A little red-dot triangle sprung up across Eddie’s chest. He fell back, his lifeless head knocking against the floor.

I quickly checked both Minelli brothers.

I checked the window in the hall. Nobody parked on the street. I looked out Ma’s bedroom window toward the back. A long, dark sedan in the alley. I couldn’t see if anyone was in it or not. I watched for a minute, almost gave up. Then I saw the cigarette, the orange pinpoint flaring in the darkness on the driver’s side.

Freddy.

There was no good way to approach him without being seen, and I needed to get some answers out of him.

First things first.

I went back into my room, put on my robe, stepped into my slippers. I looked for where Marcie might have stashed my pistols. Clueless. It must have still been in the car like I thought. I’d have to call her. Later. I’d call later.

I went down to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, threw some bacon and eggs into a skillet. Set the burner on medium-low.

I went up to Danny’s room and found his Daisy air rifle under the bed. I pumped it up, made sure it had a pellet, then went back to Ma’s room, stepping over Teddy to get to the window. I opened the window quietly, poked out the screen. Nothing from the sedan. Freddy still having a smoke.

I dragged Teddy over to the window.

“Ever see Weekend at Bernie’s?” I asked Teddy’s carcass.

I propped Teddy’s body up to the window. I aimed the air rifle over his shoulder at the sedan. I shot the window. The pellet bounced off the glass, and Freddy’s cigarette went dark. I pulled the air gun back into the house and peeked over Teddy’s shoulder.

Freddy rolled down his window and stuck his head out, craning his neck to get a look at the house. The half-moon cast a pale light on his face.

I pushed Teddy from behind, made like he was stretching out the window. I took his arm and waved it at Freddy in a come-here motion. I must’ve still had some of the medication in my veins, because I started giggling. I pulled Teddy back in and dropped him on the floor. I ran downstairs and waited in the dark kitchen with Teddy’s silenced pistol in my fist.

When Freddy came through the door, I flipped on the light switch.

He went stiff, his eyes big. He saw me and the pistol, a bad combination. Freddy looked like his twin brother Eddie, except less dead and more scared.

I said, “Hello, Freddy. I want you to take out your piece nice and slow. Two fingers. Twitch funny, and I make you go bye-bye.”

He nodded, pulled out his gun in slow motion. It was another of those damn cannons like his brother’s.

“What the hell are those?”

“A.410 gauge revolver. Shoots slugs or shot.”

“A bit much, isn’t it?”

He shrugged.

“Put it on the floor.”

He did.

“Now kick it over here.”

He did.

“Thanks.”

I shot him in the kneecap. Poot.

He screamed and went down, blood soaking through his pants. He backed up against the door, squirming on the ground, blubbering and sweating and looking like he was going to vomit any second.

“Calm down, Freddy.”

He wasn’t listening, kept crying and screaming and trying to hold his knee together, the blood oozing between his fingers.

I picked up his gun and put it in the pocket of my robe. Then I poured myself some coffee. I scraped the eggs and bacon onto a plate, grabbed a fork, and had a seat at the kitchen table. Freddy cut down on the blubbering. He watched as I ate bacon, sipped coffee.