Jack Kilborn & J. A. Konrath (27 page)

He took a deep breath and glanced into his rear-view mirror to catch his first glimpse of his adversary. She was in her sixties, her face tight with plastic surgery and anger, a string of pearls around her neck the size of gumballs. Not exactly what he had expected. If he factored in senility, old age, respect for elders, maybe he could cut grandma some slack. That’s when she leaned on her horn.

“This is a street,” she yelled, sticking her head out of the window, “not a doughnut shop parking lot.”

So much for Officer Friendly. Charlie got out of his car and strode to the driver’s side of the Rolls. “Let’s see your license and registration.”

“I don’t have time for this nonsense,” she said. “We just wrapped an hour ago and Neiman Marcus closes in fifteen minutes.”

Charlie sighed. Without knowing a thing about her, he knew everything. For one, she obviously lived in the Beverly Hills zip code, which meant she was not of this earth.

“License and registration,
now.”
Reed and Malloy would have added a “ma’am,” but Charlie figured he was doing her a favor by not dragging her out of the car, slapping her into consciousness and, perhaps, returning her to our world.

She reached into her purse and thrust her license out at him. He took it from her and glanced at it. Her name was Esther Radcliffe, and old Esther had scraped her birth date off with an Exacto knife and replaced it in ball point with a new one that would make her forty-seven.

“Now that you know who I am, move that boat,” she said firmly, “or I’ll have your badge on my charm bracelet.”

Enough of this shit. Charlie opened the door and motioned to the street. “Step out of the car.”

She glared at him, her eyes flashing with fury. “Perhaps you don’t understand the severity of the situation. The Neiman Marcus once-a-year sale ends at five
P.M.
If I don’t leave now, I will miss it. Do you get it now? Is any of this sinking in?”

Oh yeah, Broom Hilda, it sure is.

“You can get out yourself, or I can remove you,” Charlie said. “Your call.”

“No one talks to me like that,” she seethed, turning her back to him as she reached for her purse on the passenger seat.

‘‘Then you’ll get a real thrill when I read you your rights,” said Charlie, who was preparing to do just that when she turned around, aimed a .38 Special squarely at his stomach, and fired.

Charlie felt as if he’d been impaled by a ballistic missile and carried into the stratosphere. His last thought, in that split second before blackness completely overtook him, was that there had to be a better way to make a living.

Esther Radcliffe tossed the gun on the passenger seat, drove around the police car, and managed to make it to Neiman Marcus before they closed the doors. The only thing on her mind when she left the store forty minutes later with her $11,000 in purchases was whether to tip the two salesmen helping her to the car in cash, or to put it on her charge.

The whole incident on Coldwater Canyon didn’t cross her mind again until later that evening, when two plainclothes detectives drove up to her gate with a warrant for her arrest. She didn’t let them in, of course. She made a telephone call instead.

The first thing Charlie Willis saw when he opened his eyes at the UCLA medical center were two men in tailored Armani suits standing at the foot of his bed. One was a William Morris agent. The other was a network executive.

Compilation copyright © 2009 Joe Konrath & Jeff Strand

Interview copyright © 2009 Joe Konrath & Jeff Strand

All stories and excerpts copyright © 2009 Joe Konrath & Jeff Strand

My Gun Has Bullets excerpt copyright © 2009 by Lee Goldberg

Cover art copyright by © Carl Graves

“Suckers” © 2008, originally appeared as Delirium hardcover chapbook #6

“The Necro File” © 2008, originally appeared in Like A Chinese Tattoo

“Whelp Wanted” © 2004, originally appeared in Futures Mysterious Anthology Magazine, winter

“Taken To The Cleaners” © 2005, originally appeared in The Strand Magazine #16

“Poor Career Choice” © 2006, originally appeared in These Guns For Hire

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the authors’ imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Joe Konrath & Jeff Strand.

The formatting and interior design of this ebook was done by Rob Siders at
http://www.52Novels.com
.

The cover art was done by Carl Graves at
http://extendedimagery.blogspot.com
.

Print and audiobook versions of Jack Daniels Stories are also available.