Plugged - Eoin Colfer [39]
‘You are a wanted man, McEvoy. Surrender yourself into my custody and I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Come on. You got a body in the trunk.’
‘You’re the only one who knows that. And you’re a fucking knife killer. What kind of credibility do you have? If I was as bent as Goran used to be, I bet I could come up with a scenario where you killed my partner and held me captive.’
I am not liking the sound of that, or the glint in Deacon’s eyes when she says it.
‘I think I’ll turn you in and take my chances.’
Deacon shakes her head. ‘I don’t believe you. One of those bullets in Goran’s shoulder is yours. Maybe you killed Connie DeLyne, then you shot down the investigating officer. I bet my superiors would go for that.’
She’s right. So I say: ‘Ronnie, when you’re right, you’re right.’
‘You got it, Daniel. All I need to do is put a bullet in your brain and then cry at Goran’s funeral.’
She sneers Daniel like it’s a fake name that might fool others but it won’t fool Ronelle Deacon.
‘You, cry? I’d pay money to see that.’
‘You already saw it, asshole.’
The lady is right again. Last night, coming in the door, there were tears on Deacon’s cheeks.
‘You’re not going to kill me, Ronnie.’
She shrugs. ‘Not without a gun. Unless you want to fight like a man.’
‘I gave up being macho for New Year’s. Bad for my health.’
‘Pussy.’
‘No thanks.’
I turn my back on the exchange because it’s giving me a headache and duck into the bathroom to use the facilities and check my hat. I talk while I work.
‘Here’s the plan, Ronnie. I’m going to stash your car somewhere safe. You know, the one with the dead detective covered in trace in the trunk. I’m also taking your blouse with the blood spatter that I’m sure the forensics guys can read like a book. Then I’m coming back here and we can work this out. You want a career and I want you to have a career.’
‘Blackmailing motherfucker,’ Deacon calls from behind the sofa. ‘Maybe I should just throw you out the goddamn window. You could land on the car.’
‘Bring it on, doll head.’
My headache spikes behind one eye. Even at a time like this, people will not lay off the scalp.
‘I have had transplants, if you must know,’ I say, a little touchy, striding into the living area. ‘This bald thing is temporary.’
Deacon is standing by the window, cuffs on the floor, her gun in one hand, mine in the other.
‘For you, Dan,’ she says, ‘everything is temporary.’
If I had the time and the flexibility, I would kick myself in the arse, not a glancing blow either.
‘You had a key on the memory bracelet, right?’
Deacon smiles like a wolf. ‘That’s right. One of my fondest memories is a little handcuff session a couple of years ago. Now take your hand out of your pocket, kneel down and say please, please don’t shoot me in the balls, Detective Deacon.’
I give her my best doorman dead eyes. ‘I only kneel before the baby Jesus on Christmas morning.’ I glance over her shoulder. ‘Why don’t you ask my friend?’
Deacon closes one eye, like she needs to take careful aim. ‘Yeah, sure. I’ll ask the guy behind me. Kneel the fuck down, McEvoy.’
I press the remote button in my hand and the window buzzes open, swatting the detective on the butt.
Deacon puts three shots into the pane and I’m out the door before the glass stops tinkling.
I have a ten-second head start, and I can add a couple of minutes to that unless Deacon is crazy enough to chase me half naked.
Better pick up the pace.
CHAPTER 8
Army basic is a lot like school. You learn a lot of junk that you won’t ever need, and miss out on stuff that could save your life. I’ve been cracking heads for twenty-five years now and not once did spit-shined shoes or a shipshape locker give me an edge.
Some people learn the hard way that life lessons are the valuable ones, like a certain short-lived Private Edgar English who checked his Steyer for blockages by squinting down the barrel. Others are lucky enough to survive the lesson and bank the information. I know because I was that student of the