Hate is Thicker Than Blood Read Free Page B

people in jail. You withdraw the claims, and that’s the last you’ll
     hear of me.”
    “What’re you, crazy? I’m owed that money!”
    “You’re not owed anything, Nuzzo. Those policies are void. A policyholder can’t collect if he’s the one who’s the cause of
     the claim.”
    “Whadda you mean?”
    “Think about it, Frankie,” The Hook answered, calmly, taking out a pack of Camels, and offering one to the gangster. Nuzzo
     shook his head, violently, and Lockwood shrugged, paused to light up, and took a good, long drag. “A burglar breaks into your
     house, and waits for you and your wife to come home. When you do come home, he slugs you, and puts two bullets in your wife,
     then takes off, with nothing but her necklace.”
    “What do you mean, nothing? That’s five thousand dollars’ worth!”
    “True. But it doesn’t add up. Jewel thieves aren’t dumb—at least not about jewels. They know the good stuff from the worthless.
     So a burglar breaks in, no one’s home, there’s a jewel case in the bedroom, full of valuables —sixty thousand dollars worth,
     and he doesn’t touch it—any of it. Just sits and waits for a five thousand dollar necklace and a better than even chance of
     getting gunned down by you, caught by the cops if your wife screams, whatever, when all he’d have to do is take the jewel
     box and run.”
    “He coulda been an amateur.”
    “Not likely. And then the two of you turn up. So who’s the more dangerous of the two of you to him? You or Maria? You, right?
     So you he only slugs, and into your wife he pumps two bullets. It doesn’t make sense.”
    “Get out of here.”
    “Well, it does make sense, but only this way. You decide you’ve had it with your wife, and it’s time to dump her. But why
     not make a profit on it, the way you do everything else? So you take out a policy on her life, then find yourself a hit man—not
     one of your own, probably, because you want to keep this secret, apart from your everyday life—and you promise him he’ll be
     paid with that necklace. You arrange a big evening out, so Maria will have the necklace on, tell him how to get into the house,
     and when you come home, he holds a gun on you and your wife, belts you around a bit to make it look real, and then stuffs
     your willing body in the closet. Two bullets later and your wife dead, he leaves with the necklace, and you’re sitting there
     with a sore jaw and the prospects of a nice fat bundle of cash.”
    “Get out!” Nuzzo was livid with anger, his left eyelid flicking up and down with machine-gun speed.
    “I’ll be happy to, Frankie. Just remember: drop the claims or I’ll see that you wind up in the hot seat.”
    An animal-like snarl spitting out of him, Nuzzo sprang at The Hook, the two of them flying against, and then over, the plush,
     violet-covered couch that was the living room’s centerpiece.
    “I’ll kill you, you bastard!” Nuzzo, his face red, had his hands around his adversary’s throat, squeezing with maniacal strength.
    The Hook tensed, then threw his legs up in the air, unbalancing Nuzzo, the grip loosening, and The Hook tearing free.
    Before he was halfway up, Nuzzo was at him again, wild with rage, fingers again reaching out for his throat. Lockwood shifted
     to one side and Nuzzo caromed off him, each hitting the floor again. Still sprawled there, Lockwood threw an uppercut, but
     Nuzzo slipped it, and fired back a short jab of his own which just missed its mark.
    “Pig!” This time Nuzzo went for his gun, but Lock-wood’s hand flashed out and stopped him in mid-motion, his iron-like grip
     on Nuzzo’s wrist. A straight left to the mid-section and Nuzzo grunted in pain, then lunged forward, his stiff index and middle
     fingers aimed for the detective’s eyes.
    Lockwood rolled, at the same time kicking back at Nuzzo. Springing to his feet, he kicked again, sending the .32 revolver
     sailing across the room.
    But now Nuzzo was up, and Lockwood