Читать книгу Flesh And Blood - Caroline Burnes - Страница 8

The brass bell jangled merrily as Frank Devlin pushed open the heavy glass door at Mason’s Liquor Store and gave a good-natured grin to the store owner, short and plump Robert Mason, who stood behind the counter. Frank’s long strides took him unerringly to the cooler at the rear of the store, where he searched through the cold bottles of champagne and wines, until he found the one bottle he sought and pulled it out.

“Thanks for chilling this for me, Robert. This is Emma’s absolute favorite.”

“Special occasion, eh?” Robert already knew. For the past five years on this date he’d gone through the same routine with Frank. The special champagne, the ritual of having it chilled and ready so that when Frank got home he could pop the cork without delay. The Devlins were two of his favorite customers. They were so much in love, even after five years of marriage.

“Emma claims that you call me up and remind me to do this,” Frank said. He stopped near the selection of red wines. “She says you’re a handsome rascal. She’s also implied that I grew my mustache because she thinks yours is sexy.”

“If Emma Devlin was my wife, I’d give her champagne for breakfast everyday,” Robert answered. “She’s a knockout, and you’re a lucky man.”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.”

The brass bell over the door jangled again. Frank selected a bottle of wine for the special dinner he knew his wife was cooking and turned back toward the cash register with a grin that quickly faded from his face. The wine bottle he held aloft was lowered to his side.

“Hit the floor, mister.” The young man in a black leather jacket pointed a blue-black pistol directly at Frank Devlin’s heart.

“Okay.” Frank lowered his lanky frame to the liquor store floor. He had seen the look of terror on Robert’s face. It was echoed on those of the two other customers caught innocently in what was surely an armed robbery. There were two robbers, both with guns and both wearing dark ski masks pulled over their faces. The second gunman was smaller, in a blue windbreaker.

“Take the money. Just don’t hurt anyone,” Robert Mason said from his prone position. “Take anything you want. Then get out. We don’t want any trouble here.”

“Shut up!” The leather-jacketed robber kicked Robert in the face as he lay on the floor. “When I need your permission, I’ll ask for it.”

The second robber, busy at the cash drawer, laughed. “That’s right, you tell ‘em, Diamond. We don’t need nobody’s permission!”

Frank could feel the grit of the floor against his cheek. He had no weapon. There was nothing he could do except wait for the robbers to take the money and leave. They were both young, and they both sounded unstable. Hopped up on some type of drugs more than likely. The best thing to do was to remain calm. If no one provoked them, they would probably take the money and some liquor and leave. Several stores in the downtown Jackson area had been hit by armed robbers lately. The Mississippi capital had never been a hotbed of crime, but the economic downturn and the high unemployment rate were taking a toll.

The young woman several feet away had begun to whimper in fear. Frank wanted to warn her to stay quiet. These robbers wouldn’t need much to push them to another act of cruelty. They would certainly feed off the young woman’s fear.

“Something wrong, bitch?” The robber called Diamond walked up to the woman’s side. He nudged her in the ribs with the toe of his shoe. “You got a complaint?”

“No,” she managed to gasp. “No problem.”

“That’s good. ’Cause if you had a problem, I’m afraid I’d have to solve it for you.”

There was the sound of a gun cocking.

“You wouldn’t like my solution!” The robber laughed, a high-pitched sound that mixed with his companion’s deeper laugh and the soft sobbing of the woman.

Frank concentrated on their voices. If he ever heard them again, he’d know them. Diamond was obviously a nickname of some type. He carried an antique revolver. Frank looked at their shoes, searching for details that might prove useful when the police arrived. They were running shoes. Expensive. Brand new. He didn’t have to ask where a couple of punks found the money to buy two-hundred-dollar running shoes. They did some running, but not for fitness reasons.

“Hey, this little mama’s sort of pretty.” The robber was still standing over the crying woman. He reached down and pulled her from the floor. She cried aloud with fear. “We got time for a little fun, cousin?”

The robber in the blue windbreaker had sacked up the money. He came out from behind the counter and stood on the other side of the crying woman. “Make it quick, before anyone else stumbles in here.”

Diamond grabbed the woman by her hair. She hid her face in her hands and sobbed.

“Put her down.” Frank rolled onto his side where he could look at the two men. He’d tolerated all he could. They’d gone beyond their original goal of robbery. If he didn’t stop them now, they might kill everyone in the store. “Get the money and go. You don’t want any trouble here.”

“That’s right, and we don’t intend to have any.” Diamond tugged the woman’s hair until she cried out.

“You think you’re gonna stop us?” The windbreakered robber ended his question on a sneer.

Frank held his position on the floor. He didn’t want to challenge them, but someone had to stand up to them. With a bit of luck, they’d decide it wasn’t worth the hassle. “Just take the money and go, before someone gets hurt.”

“You giving orders to us?” Diamond asked. He raised his gun in a fast, practiced motion. His grip on the woman’s hair loosened and she fell to the floor, too scared even to cry.

“You have what you came for. Be smart and go while you can.” To Frank’s relief, the gunmen started to back away, even though they both aimed their guns at him. The bottle of chilled champagne was still at his side, and Frank had a brief image of Emma. She’d be standing at the front window, looking out into the street and wondering why he was late. She wouldn’t be worried about him—not yet—and he’d never tell her of this episode. He’d convince Robert not to mention it to her, either.

The robbers were at the door. The one in the leather jacket paused. “You know, you talk too much.”

Before Frank Devlin could lift a hand in self-defense the bullet penetrated his brain. In a matter of seconds he was dead.