Special Delivery, Part 25

In the last episode of Special Delivery, a short, stubby man with a mustache broke into Rocky's apartment and held him at gunpoint. The following takes place early in the small hours of the morning:

I sat up, forcing the gun to move. The intruder shifted his considerable weight to his left side and back again impatiently. He was used to carrying a gun, but only as a means to an end, and even slight delays such as that were enough to set him on edge. No use letting that bit of information go to waste, so I decided to stall him as best I could.

“Where are we going?” I asked, genially.

“My car.”

“And where will your car take us?”

“Somewhere that isn't here.”

“Will anybody I know be there?”

He hesitated and that was enough. He decided there were better things to do than talk to me so he clammed up and rested the gun barrel on my temple. He didn't need to say anything more. Someone described him to me earlier and only just then was my tired brain able to retrieve it.

“Rollo Betancourt, I presume.”

His eyes flickered just a bit and the pressure from his gun increased.

“If you're here, I'd guess that means Frank Weller wants to see me. What's he got on his mind? His wife has her precious statue back.” I motioned toward the marble Venus sitting in the corner. “If he wants that old girl, all he has to do is ask. She wasn't my idea. I'd just as soon take my payment in cold, hard cash.”

“Mrs. Weller was here,” Rollo stated, as if that should reveal all.

“She was, and not at my request. And if you want to know the truth, I'm sick and tired of people picking my lock. Present company included.”

Rollo got a fierce look in his eyes, like I had just insulted his favorite mother. “You brought her here,” he said through clenched teeth. “You brought her here against her will and you defiled her. She trusted you. Under the circumstances, Mr. Weller had no choice but to make you disappear.”

The craziness piled up thick and fast and I had to bail my way clear before it drowned me. “Hold on. Is that her word against mine?”

Whatever I said tickled Rollo's funny bone. “Mrs. Weller has nothing to do with it,” he chuckled. “It simply is how it has to be. A man in Mr. Weller's position cannot be too careful. He couldn't afford the scandal.”

“Whatever happened to Caesar's wife being above reproach?”

“An outdated ideal, I'm afraid. Mr. Weller's preference is to keep his wife and make the others suffer.” A wink came over his right eye and it was disgusting. “Was she good to you, at least?”

“Is it any of your business?”

He found a chair and settled his rounded body into it. “I suppose not. I figure it's the least I could do, seeing as I'm the last man you'll ever see on Earth. A final confession, with me as priest.” Rollo raised his hand triumphantly. “You'd be amazed the amount of final confessions I've collected over the past two years, and all thanks to Mrs. Weller.”

“Somehow I don't think I'd be amazed.”

At that point, I almost felt sorry I didn't take advantage of her charms. After all, the man was going to kill me whether it was the truth or not.

Rollo licked his lips and said: “Tell me. What happened?”

“Nothing,” I replied. “I came in and she was in the bed. I told her to get out and she did. End of story.”

“Oh, come now!” he shouted, and raised his gun to my eye level so I could see it was .38. “Don't you want to hold on to the last bit of life you have left?”

I hadn't given up on life that easily. The fact was, I could get a lot more out of life by telling him the truth than I could an elaborate fiction that might satisfy his need for a good final confession.

It was my turn to stay silent, because I knew that would get him up out of his seat. He shouted at me again, not too loud to wake the neighbors. Then he did what I wanted. He started in toward me so he could yell at me in private, and once he had taken a few steps I dove for his legs. The gun went off in a deafening blast but I wasn't hurt by it. Rollo tumbled to the ground but somehow managed to hold on to the .38. I put my elbow in his chops and yanked at his wrist to get it away from him, but that just sent off another shot. He was strong underneath all that fat. I grabbed his face with a free hand and squeezed. That got him yelling but he managed to kick his knee up into my belly. He pushed me off and sent another shot in my direction. It missed and I came at him again, foot first against his wrist. Everything hit the floor and I heard a crisp snap before the gun came tumbling loose. Rollo howled in pain as I scooped up the .38.

“Weller sends you to do his dirty work,” I said as I caught my breath. “Let's just see how he does when he's got to deal with a problem directly.”


What will Rocky do when he finally meets Frank Weller? Find out in the next episode of The Adventures of Rocky Stone!

Go to Part 26: Confronting Frank Weller