Page 67 of Rules of Engagement

Chapter Fifteen

"A clear warning? What kind of clear warning?" asked Garrett.

"Ah, man. I don't ask questions. I was just happy to get a job." Mikey offered a lazy smile that I was sure Garrett didn't return.

"Happy to get a job? You're happy when someone offers you a job as a truck driver, or stacking shelves at the market, or sweeping the streets. You don't get to be happy if you’re offered a job to kill a man in cold blood," said Garrett.

"Like I said, I wasn't s’posed to kill him. Well, I coulda killed him but I'm not the best shot. He said it didn't matter either way. It was only meant to be a warning."

"To Solomon? How could it be a warning if you killed him? He can't do anything if he's dead!"

"Hey. I thought you said he was alive!"

"He is alive. I'm pointing out it's a crappy warning if you deliver the warning while ending any opportunity to rectify whatever the warning was for!"

Mikey scratched his head. "Can I get some water?" he asked. "Or some weed? This is startin’ to stress me out."

"No!" yelled Garrett.

"This guy has to be the dumbest hit man I've ever seen," said Maddox.

"How many have you seen?" I asked.

"A few. The Finklesteins were my favorites," he said and I had to bite my lip not to smile.

"They're dead," I said, trying not to think about the moment I found them. They were spying on my apartment and got shot and killed in the process. I didn't have any sympathy for them; they were probably there to do the same to me.

"That's why they're my favorite hit men," said Maddox.

"Who are the Finklesteins?" asked Damien.

"An old case," I said, waving away the comment. "Mikey just said something." The Finklesteins seemed so long ago now. I thought I'd grown tougher in that time, more aware of the bad apples in the world and maybe a little colder too, but now I wasn't so sure. Mikey was bad, but mostly, he was just stupid. I wasn't. I was still hopeful but I didn’t know if that was a weakness or my biggest strength.

"Tell me about the guy who approached you," said Garrett on the other side of the two-way mirror. "Start with his name."

"Mooch."

"Pardon?"

"His name is Mooch. Like a moose but different. Like a... mooch," trailed off Mikey, apparently unable to find anything that resembled a mooch.

"Where would I find this Mooch?"

"There's a bar on Ninth Street in Frederickstown. Kind of a dive. He goes there a lot. I don't know where he works or lives but I figure it's gotta be nearby because the bar is the gang's hangout."

"What does Mooch look like?"

"Big dude. Six-three. Built like he ate a small family."

"Do you mean he eats the same amount of food a small family eats?" asked Garrett.

"No, I mean like he ate his whole family. Dude's huge. He's bald with one o’ those beards that just goes around his mouth," said Mikey. "Lotsa tattoos too. When I go to jail, can you make sure I ain’t anywhere near him?"

"Why? I thought you wanted to join his gang."

"I wanted to join the gang because they got plenty o’ drugs, money, and girls, not because I want to die."

"I'll put in a special request for you to go to the fun prison, the one we like to call ‘the Country Club’," said Garrett. "Keep talking. Tell me about this Mooch approaching you. When did that happen?"

---