Posted in aiden cobb, chas andrews, crime fiction, hardboiled, mystery, suspense, the big adios, thriller 1 comments
Aiden stands up to leave his apartment. There's shit that needs to be done. Looking down on the lot he spots two assholes sitting in a mid-sized car.
B and E, he mutters.
Bensinger and Elliot, or B&E as the neighborhood collective call them. White, in their forties, and forget Pilates they didn't know shit about being physically fit but they do know all the dealers, bangers, pushers, and all-purpose shitkickers in the hood and how to control them. Elliot is the ever-faithful sidekick; the Tonto to Bensinger's Lone Ranger. If not for Bensinger, Elliot would've been kicked off the force eons ago but the two were pals; buddies. They cook out, share family holidays, the works. What are partners for?
Bensinger. In the Who's Who of Crooked Cops he's somewhere close to the first page. The guy could show up in a courtroom, point at the criminal and demand the death penalty. The jury would automatically believe him. Somewhere someone is constructing a case against him that would level and call into question each and every case he ever touched. For the moment he is clean.
Aiden winds down the staircase and to his nondescript maroon Eighties Chevy Cavalier. Everyone owns one and there are a lot of them driving around.
B&E open their car doors and the two hulking mastodons pound the pavement toward him. What they want Aiden doesn't know. Coolly he reaches into his pocket for his keys and stops.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?”
Bensinger, the one on the right and two inches taller than his partner, eases over.
“Just a moment of your time, Mister Cobb.”
“I'm really busy, gentlemen.” Aiden tries turning away. It's difficult for him to look away from Bensinger's ugly, fat, white tie with green stripes
“Do you know Steven Lucas Hitchcock?” Elliot approaches Aiden from the other side.
“I may have heard the name.” He stares at his reflection in the window.
“Your buddy was found dead, missin' half his face,” Bensinger rubs in.
“He wasn't my buddy. I said I may have heard the name. That's all.”
He begins to pull the keys out of his pocket. For every action there is a B&E reaction. Which means having his face smacked against the windshield and keeping his cool.
“Is that a concealed weapon, Aiden?” Bensinger's lips an inch shy of Aiden's ears.
Prying his lips from the windshield: “Are we on a first name basis, Jack?”
Bensinger grabs Aiden's hair and smacks his head against the windshield again. He tightens his mouth. “Call me Jack again. Just one more time.”
“What do you want?” Aiden spits out through gritted teeth.
“Word on the street is that your boy got killed over a fuckin' movie.”
“A fuckin' movie?” It surprises the hell out of Elliot, who thought he had heard everything.
Bensinger turns to Elliot. “Do me a favor and shut the fuck up, willya Robert?”
“Sorry.” He takes a step back.
“Thad is lookin' for the movie and I'm thinkin'... what would Aiden do?”
“Nice to know you put me before Jesus,” Aiden says through gritted teeth.
“Jesus wasn't no killer for hire.” Bensinger leans into him.
“You didn' say he was no hitman.” Elliot now glares in shock.
Bensinger turns to Elliot. “Robert. Please. Shut the fuck up!” He returns his attention to Aiden, still gripping his hair. “Now Aiden, do you know about this movie Thad is lookin' for?”
“Nope. I don't even Redbox.”
Bensinger takes Aiden by the shirt, swings him around and throws him forward. Aiden hits the concrete in front of his car. It sounds worse than it looks. Bensinger readjusts his jacket.
“If you find out anything, you know where to find me.”
B&E walk to their car and get in. Immediately, they take off.
Aiden peels himself off the pavement. He pats his arms and clothes, dusting himself off.
“Fuckin' crooked cops.”