vapros
Verified Member
Chapter 1
When last seen (The Taking of Sonny Boy), Jack Ross was laid up in a hospital in Wheeling, West Virginia, trying to recover from a gunshot wound in his belly. I left him there, not because this gig was finished, but because I figured he could get out from there. But now, I’m not so sure he is smart enough to do what is needed, so I intend to follow him for a while, just to watch. As of now, I have no idea what might happen next, or where this road might go. If he gets inside the building and gets away with the boodle, then of course I will expect a nice jelly. If, instead, he is busted and scratches in the corner, then his name becomes Jack Who? and I will go and do the rest of my retirement. I can’t abide losers. You can come along, if you like – tourist class only.
* * * * * * * * *
For the next forty-eight hours, between alternating periods of pain and sedation, Ross reflected in wonder on the events of the previous fortnight. The kiss-off by Sandra hung heavy on his mind, but it didn’t demand his attention. Gus Mendoza’s murderous treachery had been revealed only hours before his gunshot, and could be addressed at his leisure. It was not a good time to make a serious error. He did not expect to find Gus in Baton Rouge, but he would still be out there, somewhere in the wind. After owning up to the brutal killing of Miriam Moscowitz in St. Louis, shooting Ross was absolutely necessary. Nothing else he could do. Failing to kill him was a disaster.
John Villarubbia was the genesis of the whole thing. He took Sonny Boy and took the ransom and was long dead before Jack even heard his name. He tried to do right by his partners in the crime, but made a hash of stashing the cash, which was supposed to be waiting just down the road from Ross’ hospital bed. Piper died in a hospice in St. Louis, confessing to Jack in his final hours. Miriam was never really involved until she went to New York and killed Darrell Lindsay. Piper had made her think that might be all she needed, but he favored Ross and left her out.
Hector Velez thought he might have cut a fat hog in the ass, expecting a share of Miriam’s coming windfall. His last-ditch effort to sell the names he knew had taken him to West Memphis, Arkansas, where he found Sonny Leppert and wound up mutilated and dead in a big ditch behind the railroad tracks. Sonny, for his part, hitched rides to Baton Rouge and braced Ross in his own sign shop, and died there, and now was well into decomposition in a remote spot similar to Hector’s. Gus Mendoza, coming off the bench in the last minutes of the game, had murdered Miriam and narrowly missed doing the same to Ross. Convinced the hidden money was gone forever, Gus was in full flight to somewhere, a wanted man in two states.
It was obvious and fascinating. Jack Ross was the last man standing.
When last seen (The Taking of Sonny Boy), Jack Ross was laid up in a hospital in Wheeling, West Virginia, trying to recover from a gunshot wound in his belly. I left him there, not because this gig was finished, but because I figured he could get out from there. But now, I’m not so sure he is smart enough to do what is needed, so I intend to follow him for a while, just to watch. As of now, I have no idea what might happen next, or where this road might go. If he gets inside the building and gets away with the boodle, then of course I will expect a nice jelly. If, instead, he is busted and scratches in the corner, then his name becomes Jack Who? and I will go and do the rest of my retirement. I can’t abide losers. You can come along, if you like – tourist class only.
* * * * * * * * *
For the next forty-eight hours, between alternating periods of pain and sedation, Ross reflected in wonder on the events of the previous fortnight. The kiss-off by Sandra hung heavy on his mind, but it didn’t demand his attention. Gus Mendoza’s murderous treachery had been revealed only hours before his gunshot, and could be addressed at his leisure. It was not a good time to make a serious error. He did not expect to find Gus in Baton Rouge, but he would still be out there, somewhere in the wind. After owning up to the brutal killing of Miriam Moscowitz in St. Louis, shooting Ross was absolutely necessary. Nothing else he could do. Failing to kill him was a disaster.
John Villarubbia was the genesis of the whole thing. He took Sonny Boy and took the ransom and was long dead before Jack even heard his name. He tried to do right by his partners in the crime, but made a hash of stashing the cash, which was supposed to be waiting just down the road from Ross’ hospital bed. Piper died in a hospice in St. Louis, confessing to Jack in his final hours. Miriam was never really involved until she went to New York and killed Darrell Lindsay. Piper had made her think that might be all she needed, but he favored Ross and left her out.
Hector Velez thought he might have cut a fat hog in the ass, expecting a share of Miriam’s coming windfall. His last-ditch effort to sell the names he knew had taken him to West Memphis, Arkansas, where he found Sonny Leppert and wound up mutilated and dead in a big ditch behind the railroad tracks. Sonny, for his part, hitched rides to Baton Rouge and braced Ross in his own sign shop, and died there, and now was well into decomposition in a remote spot similar to Hector’s. Gus Mendoza, coming off the bench in the last minutes of the game, had murdered Miriam and narrowly missed doing the same to Ross. Convinced the hidden money was gone forever, Gus was in full flight to somewhere, a wanted man in two states.
It was obvious and fascinating. Jack Ross was the last man standing.