her,” Mr. Doyle was watching Pamela. He was not pleased.
“I … yes, she … looked familiar,” Pamela answered. She never had been a good liar.
Mr. Doyle, on the edge of being actually pissed, looked to Shep, who sighed. “Ah, shit. I kind of liked the broad. I’ll take care of it.”
“What!” Pamela panicked. “I don’t know for certain.”
“Later,” Mr. Doyle snapped.
Shep nodded and returned to studying Pamela. “In order for me to gauge your reactions and answers, I need to get to know you a little.”
Pamela stared in panic at Mr. Doyle. “It’s all right, dear. Answer his questions.”
“So, what do you do when you’re not burying a dead fiancé?”
“Graphic design.”
“Advertising.”
“Marketing, actually.”
“You fucking with me?”
“No, I —”
“What’s the fucking difference then?”
“Well, in marketing —”
Shep lunged at Pamela and she squeaked in terror. He laughed. “That’s enough small talk.”
“Yes, rather,” Mr. Doyle agreed. “Start with the back molars. If she talks early on, maybe we can gift her mother with a prettier corpse.”
Shep grabbed Pamela by the jaw. Though completely hindered by the ropes tying her to the chair, she attempted to struggle, clamping her mouth closed.
He pried her jaw open and shoved the pliers in.
She gagged.
“Sight lines! Sight lines!” Mr. Doyle called with a terribly excited and somewhat sick edge to his voice.
Shep shifted his body so Mr. Doyle could see. He bent his shoulder into his work.
Pamela gargled a scream as Shep pulled a bloody molar out of her mouth. He held the tooth up in his pliers, grinning proudly as he turned to show off his prize.
Behind him, Karli had a small revolver, perhaps a .22 caliber, pressed to Mr. Doyle’s temple.
Even from within her haze of pain, Pamela saw Shep’s jaw drop. Karli thumb cocked the four-inch gun. Mr. Doyle didn’t look happy.
“What the fuck?” Shep couldn’t wrap his head around this new development.
“Yes, well,” Karli replied, more than a little put out. “I suppose this is as good a time to tell you as any other. You don’t do that well at all. Fucking, I mean. You seem handy with the pliers.”
Pamela groaned, “Karli?”
“I’m here, babe. In the flesh.”
“You couldn’t have pulled the gun earlier?”
“I had to get the okay to blow my cover.”
“Ah. Perhaps you’re the one who should be tied to the chair,” Mr. Doyle said, sounding just as refined with a gun threatening to blow his brains out as he did without.
“Only you like it like that, grandpa,” Karli snipped.
“Watch your mouth, little cunt,” Shep growled. Then he spread his arms to display his meaty girth. “You think that pea shooter can take me?”
“I think that, this close, it’ll blow right through Mr. Doyle’s brains. And, BTW, if you didn’t like your girlfriends so slaggily dressed, I could have concealed a bigger gun.”
“My whores, you mean.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Whatever. Untie Pamela.”
Shep just glared at her. Karli pressed the gun harder against Mr. Doyle’s temple and he sucked his breath through his teeth in annoyance.
Shep pulled a long hunting knife out of his boot and crossed to cut Pamela out of the chair.
“Stand,” Karli commanded Mr. Doyle. He complied. “You coming, babe?”
Pamela slowly stood while pressing a hand to her jaw. “If I bring the tooth, can they reattach it?”
“FUCK THE TOOTH!” Shep screamed. “You fucking wanted to fucking kill yourself twelve hours ago!”
Pamela flinched and quickly crossed to Karli. “Yes, you’re right. I’m not thinking clearly.”
“Let’s go. You stay,” Karli commanded Shep. “Mr. Doyle is a valuable asset, and I’d hate to do anything permanent. But in the end, one more off the streets always gets you a medal. The laptop, Pom-Pom.”
Pamela took the laptop from Mr. Doyle. He made no effort to resist, doing so would have been beneath him.
“I … yes, she … looked familiar,” Pamela answered. She never had been a good liar.
Mr. Doyle, on the edge of being actually pissed, looked to Shep, who sighed. “Ah, shit. I kind of liked the broad. I’ll take care of it.”
“What!” Pamela panicked. “I don’t know for certain.”
“Later,” Mr. Doyle snapped.
Shep nodded and returned to studying Pamela. “In order for me to gauge your reactions and answers, I need to get to know you a little.”
Pamela stared in panic at Mr. Doyle. “It’s all right, dear. Answer his questions.”
“So, what do you do when you’re not burying a dead fiancé?”
“Graphic design.”
“Advertising.”
“Marketing, actually.”
“You fucking with me?”
“No, I —”
“What’s the fucking difference then?”
“Well, in marketing —”
Shep lunged at Pamela and she squeaked in terror. He laughed. “That’s enough small talk.”
“Yes, rather,” Mr. Doyle agreed. “Start with the back molars. If she talks early on, maybe we can gift her mother with a prettier corpse.”
Shep grabbed Pamela by the jaw. Though completely hindered by the ropes tying her to the chair, she attempted to struggle, clamping her mouth closed.
He pried her jaw open and shoved the pliers in.
She gagged.
“Sight lines! Sight lines!” Mr. Doyle called with a terribly excited and somewhat sick edge to his voice.
Shep shifted his body so Mr. Doyle could see. He bent his shoulder into his work.
Pamela gargled a scream as Shep pulled a bloody molar out of her mouth. He held the tooth up in his pliers, grinning proudly as he turned to show off his prize.
Behind him, Karli had a small revolver, perhaps a .22 caliber, pressed to Mr. Doyle’s temple.
Even from within her haze of pain, Pamela saw Shep’s jaw drop. Karli thumb cocked the four-inch gun. Mr. Doyle didn’t look happy.
“What the fuck?” Shep couldn’t wrap his head around this new development.
“Yes, well,” Karli replied, more than a little put out. “I suppose this is as good a time to tell you as any other. You don’t do that well at all. Fucking, I mean. You seem handy with the pliers.”
Pamela groaned, “Karli?”
“I’m here, babe. In the flesh.”
“You couldn’t have pulled the gun earlier?”
“I had to get the okay to blow my cover.”
“Ah. Perhaps you’re the one who should be tied to the chair,” Mr. Doyle said, sounding just as refined with a gun threatening to blow his brains out as he did without.
“Only you like it like that, grandpa,” Karli snipped.
“Watch your mouth, little cunt,” Shep growled. Then he spread his arms to display his meaty girth. “You think that pea shooter can take me?”
“I think that, this close, it’ll blow right through Mr. Doyle’s brains. And, BTW, if you didn’t like your girlfriends so slaggily dressed, I could have concealed a bigger gun.”
“My whores, you mean.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Whatever. Untie Pamela.”
Shep just glared at her. Karli pressed the gun harder against Mr. Doyle’s temple and he sucked his breath through his teeth in annoyance.
Shep pulled a long hunting knife out of his boot and crossed to cut Pamela out of the chair.
“Stand,” Karli commanded Mr. Doyle. He complied. “You coming, babe?”
Pamela slowly stood while pressing a hand to her jaw. “If I bring the tooth, can they reattach it?”
“FUCK THE TOOTH!” Shep screamed. “You fucking wanted to fucking kill yourself twelve hours ago!”
Pamela flinched and quickly crossed to Karli. “Yes, you’re right. I’m not thinking clearly.”
“Let’s go. You stay,” Karli commanded Shep. “Mr. Doyle is a valuable asset, and I’d hate to do anything permanent. But in the end, one more off the streets always gets you a medal. The laptop, Pom-Pom.”
Pamela took the laptop from Mr. Doyle. He made no effort to resist, doing so would have been beneath him.
Similar Books
