Dead Ringer Read Free Page B

made him feel cheap, like less of a man.
    If only she’d left it alone.
    But she had to tell the cops what she saw. Striker said she’d been over to the police station looking at photos. They had a shit load of books down there, with thousands of pictures. Sooner or later she was gonna come across his. He was a lot younger when he’d been arrested, had short hair and no mustache, but the way they’d locked eyes in that stop-and-rob, Horace felt sure she’d recognize him.
    Still, he hadn’t been able to kill her. Stalk her, yes. Kill her, no.
    Horace shivered, blamed it on the air-conditioning. He felt good after he’d blown away the Jap, better when he found out who it was. Frankie Fujimori, a low life the planet could rotate very well without.
    But when Striker told him he had to do the woman, he’d resisted, saying it wasn’t right, but Striker had threatened to bring in one of those Yakuza types his bosses at the construction company had hanging around all the time. Then Horace had to see it for what it was. A job, no more, no less. Besides, if he didn’t do it, it wouldn’t be no blonde those Yakuza fucks would be going after.
    And when they came for him, there wouldn’t be a thing he could do about it. Striker had too many resources. He was untouchable. There was no going against him. So he’d stalked her, building his resolve, convincing himself he could do it. But when he was finally ready, she’d pulled a disappearing act. Now all of a sudden she pops up in the Safeway in the Shore. If he hadn’t seen her with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it.
    “ It’s the woman you showed me in that newspaper, isn’t it?” Virgil said, interrupting his thoughts. “I was right, wasn’t I?”
    “ Yeah, Virge, you were right. You did good.”
    “ I knew it.” Virgil was glowing with pride.
    The waitress brought their burgers and fries. They ate in silence as Horace pondered the problem of the woman across the street. There was no way out of it. He was going to have to go over and see what was what, maybe do her in the bar if he got a chance. Maybe she’d go to the can. He could follow her in, cut her throat and be gone before anyone had a clue.
    “ She’s been over there long enough. I’m gonna go and serve the papers. I might be awhile, maybe a half hour.” Ma and Virgil thought he was a process server. He’d told them he worked for the DA and that his job was to find and serve papers on difficult subjects, people who had the money and means to avoid a subpoena.
    After all, he could hardly tell them what he really did for a living. He couldn’t tell anyone. It had started after he was arrested for a B and E all those years ago. Striker cut him a deal. Horace snitched on his friends and walked. But he was never free, Striker kept him on a short leash. When the man needed someone leaned on, he called Horace.
    When a guy owed Striker money, a favor, information, anything, and didn’t deliver, Horace paid a visit to his wife and scared the shit out of her. It always worked. Horace had to give Striker his due, it was way better then breaking arms or busting heads. It was amazing how you could get a guy to do what you wanted by fucking with someone he loved.
    Only once had he ever had to hurt anyone. Striker sent Horace after this guy’s kid brother, because the guy wasn’t married. But the bastard wouldn’t deliver, so Horace broke the brother’s arm. Fucker was kissing Striker’s ass the next day.
    Horace sighed. Only once, till he’d blown away the dude in the stop-and-rob.
    “ I could help,” Virgil said, shaking Horace back to the here and now.
    “ You did help, Virge. You spotted her in the store. That was good.”
    The big guy was all puffy, eyes wide with pride. Horace smiled at him. Virgil was five years older, but followed Horace around like a puppy dog, as if he were the younger brother and in some ways he was. Virgil had a memory like a trap, but he couldn’t read. He was