The Laughing Corpse - Laurell K. Hamilton [32]
The distorted image was blond, fair-eyed, and barely familiar. It was Tommy, Harold Gaynor’s muscle-bound bodyguard. This day was just getting better and better.
I don’t usually take a gun to judo class. It’s in the afternoon. In the summer that means daylight. The really dangerous stuff doesn’t come out until after dark. I untucked the red polo shirt I was wearing and clipped my inter-pants holster back in place. The pocket-size 9mm dug in just a little. If I had known I was going to need it, I would have worn looser jeans.
The doorbell rang again. I hadn’t called out to let him know I was in here. He didn’t seem discouraged. He rang the doorbell a third time, leaning on it.
I took a deep breath and opened the door. I looked up into Tommy’s pale blue eyes. They were still empty, dead. A perfect blankness. Were you born with a stare like that, or did you have to practice?
“What do you want?” I asked.
His lips twitched. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“I don’t think so.”
He shrugged massive shoulders. I could see the straps of his shoulder holster imprinted on his suit jacket. He needed a better tailor.
A door opened to my left. A woman came out with a toddler in her arms. She locked the door before turning and seeing us. “Oh, hi.” She smiled brightly.
“Hello,” I said.
Tommy nodded.
The woman turned and walked towards the stairs. She was murmuring something nonsensical and high-pitched to the toddler.
Tommy looked back at me. “You really want to do this in the hallway?”
“What are we doing?”
“Business. Money.”
I looked at his face, and it told me nothing. The only comfort I had was that if Tommy meant to do me harm he probably wouldn’t have come to my apartment to do it. Probably.
I stepped back, holding the door very wide. I stayed out of arm’s reach as he walked into my apartment. He looked around. “Nice, clean.”
“Cleaning service,” I said. “Talk to me about business, Tommy. I’ve got an appointment.”
He glanced at the gym bag by the door. “Work or pleasure?” he asked.
“None of your business,” I said.
Again that bare twist of lips. I realized it was his version of a smile. “Down in the car I got a case full of money. A million five, half now, half after you raise the zombie.”
I shook my head. “I gave Gaynor my answer.”
“But that was in front of your boss. This is just you and me. No one’ll know if you take it. No one.”
“I didn’t say no because there were witnesses. I said no because I don’t do human sacrifice.” I could feel myself smiling. This was ridiculous. I thought about Manny then. Alright, maybe it wasn’t ridiculous. But I wasn’t doing it.
“Everyone has their price, Anita. Name it. We can meet it.”
He had never once mentioned Gaynor’s name. Only I had. He was being so bloody careful, too careful. “I don’t have a price, Tommy-boy. Go back to Mr. Harold Gaynor and tell him that.”
His face clouded up then. A wrinkling between his eyes. “I don’t know that name.”
“Oh, give me a break. I’m not wearing a wire.”
“Name your price. We can meet it,” he said.
“There is no price.”
“Two million, tax-free,” he said.
“What zombie could be worth two million dollars, Tommy?” I stared at his softly frowning face. “What could Gaynor hope to gain that would allow him to make a profit on that kind of expenditure?”
Tommy just stared at me. “You don’t need to know that.”
“I thought you’d say that. Go away, Tommy. I’m not for sale.” I stepped back towards the door, planning to escort him out. He moved forward suddenly, faster than he looked. Muscled arms wide to grab me.
I pulled the Firestar and pointed it at his chest. He froze. Dead eyes, blinking at me. His large hands balled into fists. A nearly purple flush crept up his neck into his face. Rage.
“Don’t do it,” I said, my voice sounded soft.
“Bitch,” he wheezed it at me.
“Now, now, Tommy, don’t get nasty. Ease down, and we can all live to see another glorious day.”
His pale eyes flicked from the gun to my face, then