“Yeah,” Bubba said. “Yeah, that’s good.”
Felton said, “What are you going to do, Franco?” Franco looked at him for a moment and shook his head. “Look at the sweat,” he said. “Give fat a bad name, guys like you.”
Felton wiped his hand over his face. “Well, what’re you?” he said.
“You called us,” Franco said. “What’d you have in mind?”
“They were talking about me killing Rafferty,” Felton said.
Franco made a sound between a grunt and a laugh. “You ain’t got the ‘nads to kill anything, except maybe a quart of tequila,” he said. Then he looked at Candy and said, “Come on, you and your date take a ride with us.”
Candy looked at me. I said “Nope.”
Franco looked at me for the first time. “I wasn’t asking,” he said. “Get moving, huh?”
I said “Nope” again. It had a nice rhythm to it. Bubba had moved a little to Franco’s right, but neither showed a weapon yet. That’s one of the mistakes tough guys make. They overrate how tough they are. They aren’t careful.
I took the gun out from the cushions and pointed it at them. No harm in being careful. I said “Nope.” Franco and Bubba looked at the gun. So did Felton.
His face got sweatier. Candy didn’t move. She seemed inside a kind of deep stillness.
“We have here,” I said to Candy, “persuasive evidence of complicity between Felton and Franco, and of course the legendary Bubba. Bubba is on hourly wage, I suspect, and doesn’t count for much. But I think we could make something pretty good out of Franco and old Sammy.”
“What can we really prove?” Candy said.
“We can prove Franco beat you up. We can prove when we came here to talk with Sam Felton about Mickey, he called Franco, and Franco came and attempted to remove us. The threat of force was clearly implied.”
“I want it all,” Candy said.
“Cops can get it all if we give them this,” I said. “Old Sam here will melt like butter on a flapjack when Samuelson gets him down to the Hall of Justice. So would Bubba, but he probably doesn’t know anything.”
“Don’t get to feeling too good about that gun, huh?” Franco said. “I seen guns before. It ain’t going to buy you all that much.”
“If you do anything incautious,” I said, “it can buy you the farm.”
Candy seemed not even to hear Franco. She barely heard me. She was way inside somewhere. “I want it all,” she said again. “I want to get it myself.”
“You’ve got enough,” I said. “You’ve broken it, let the cops clean up. They’re good at it. They’ve got the personpower for it.”
She didn’t even smile at “personpower.” No one else did either. No accounting for people’s sense of humor. She was looking right at Franco now. “Did you shoot Mickey?” she said.
Franco made a small grin. “Sure,” he said.
“You shot him?”
“Yes. I just said so, huh?”
Bubba edged slightly more to the right.
I said, “Don’t do that, Bubba. I’m good with this. I’ll drop you where you stand.”
Franco said, “And while you’re shooting him, what do you think I’ll be doing, huh?”
I said, “I can drop him and you before you can clear the piece. You made one mistake coming in here with your hands empty. Don’t make another one.”
Candy said, “You can’t shoot him, Spenser. He’s our key to the whole story.”
I said, “Yes, I can. We’ve still got Felton,” and then everything went to hell. The Mexican woman walked in through the archway and stopped next to Franco when she saw the gun. Franco stepped behind her. I raised my gun. Candy said “No,” and pushed at my arm. Franco was around the corner of the archway. Bubba had his gun out. I yanked my arm free of Candy and shot Bubba twice and shoved Candy down on the sofa and sprawled over her facing the archway. The Mexican woman was crouched on the floor near the archway. Felton was still cross-legged on the opposite couch, body bent as close to double as he could get, both hands over his head. Bubba had fallen backward to the floor. The smell of gunshot was in the room but no sound. The hum of central air conditioning filled an otherwise soundless void. Candy was motionless beneath me.
Then Franco’s voice came from behind the archway. “Come on, Felton,” Franco said. “Get off the couch and walk over here.”
Felton kept his hands clutched over his head and looked up in my direction.
“Come on,” Franco said again. “He won’t shoot. He needs you alive, don’t you, boyfriend. You kill him and you got nothing. Besides, I can blast the Mex from here and not even move. So we’ll trade. Felton walks and you get the Mex, huh?”
I didn’t say anything. I kept the gun on the entryway. I took a quick check on Felton from the corner of my eye. I didn’t think he was a threat, but I hadn’t counted on the Mexican woman either.
Franco said, “Get your fat ass out here, Felton, and now. Or you want to stay with them?”
“No,” Felton said. His voice was squeaky. “No. I’m coming.” He got off the couch and scurried fatly over to the archway and through.
