Giddyup for STAR

The plan was blown, and there was no way to tell anybody about it. All comms were routed through the Owl and the Owl had flown the coop, or whatever it is that owls do when they go away and leave you to die. I couldn’t contact anybody.

Then again, maybe things weren’t so bad. Each team still had their operational goals. Uncle Boomboom was creating a major diversion by blowing up multiple music venues throughout the town. He called in bomb threats to clear them out, and then carried out on the threats on two clubs as soon as each building was empty. Friday night is the busiest night of the week for clubs, and Uncle created chaos on a massive level. After blowing two clubs, he called in threats on three more. There were no bombs in those clubs, but on the next round of clubs, two were live and one was false. According to the plan, Wallace would be forced to mobilize his private army to try and search the remaining clubs for bombs. So far so good.

The McCaughans had the next job. While Wallace’s goons were trying to search for bombs, they were to break into his corporate offices, and steal everything that wasn’t nailed down. Money was good, but the legal files were the real target. They would provide proof of the thousands of musicians Wallace had ripped of over the years, and result in millions of dollars in settlements, and make sure that Wallace was tied up in court for decades. So far so good.

Honey had a very simple job. She was just supposed to call Wallace and let him know that he was through in the music business, to take whatever shreds we left him with and leave town. If he were to stay, or try for revenge, or do anything we didn’t like, the people who took him down so thoroughly would come back and finish the job. Not so good.

Honey didn’t call Wallace. She wanted to look into his eyes when he learned what went down. She wanted him to know who had beaten him.

We’d talked about this, and my sweet Honey knew how bad the idea was. But my Amazon, well, we know what she thought of my thinking. When she wasn’t slapping me around, it was usually only because she didn’t want to get blood on her dress.

I knew I had to go after her. I knew she couldn’t leave it alone, take what she could and leave. She wanted it all,and she was going to get it.

I drove out to Wallace’s place, hoping I could get there before she did, hoping I could talk some sense into her, or at least get the jump on her and bring her back home. But when I got there, her car was already there. The engine was still ticking as it cooled down, so maybe I was in time. Maybe I could catch her. As I rushed towards the open front door of Wallace’s mansion, I heard two gunshots; I heard a man bellow with rage and a woman, my Honey,my Amazon, scream in pain and hatred. I heard a third shot, and then a ghastly silence. I ran through the open door. The shots sounded like they’d come from downstairs, so I ran past the winding staircase towards the French doors at the end of the hallway. I pulled my gun as I burst through the door and knew I was already too late. The crimson stain that covered Honey’s chest was too large for a minor wound. It was bad, and she was still alive, it wouldn’t be for long.

Wallace was standing by his desk, dialing the phone, but I didn’t give him time to complete his call. I shot him in the back as he began to turn,and I shot him in the side as he began to fall. I shot him in the chest as he lay gasping on the floor, and I shot him in the head just to make damn sure he was dead.

I went to see Honey, to see if by some miracle she was still alive, but this isn’t some fairy story, it’s real life, and she was gone. I couldn’t even tell her that the job was done, that her brother was avenged, that Wallace was dead. But maybe she knew it anyway. Like she said at the steakhouse, even if one of us died during the job, they would know that the job would be finished and done right, because we were a team,and we could count on each other to finish the job, no matter what.

No matter what.

Honey was gone. When the cops identified her body, they would know everything. Who she was, why she was there, the whole thing. Except for us. Honey had no ties to us. She’d never staid with me overnight, and I never staid with her. The trail would start and end with her. I put my gun in her hand,and left. I knew a real forensics team wouldn’t buy it, but I also knew that in this town, the chances of a real forensics team being called in were nil. There were too many people who hated Bart Wallace. Too many suspects. Somebody would be arrested and convicted of the murder, but it wouldn’t be me. It would be the unlucky bloodsucker who got set up by the one who wins the battle to take Bart’s place at the top of the bloodsucker food chain.

I was safe.

We met up per the plan,split the money, sent out the files to lawyers,and let the feeding frenzy begin. The McCaughans took their share of the loot ,had a few more kids, and as far as I know are still fighting and making up, both very loudly. Uncle Boomboom still blows stuff up, but only on the 4th of July, and only with the proper permits.

I retired from the detective life, and moved to Iowa. It’s real quiet in Iowa. I kinda like it. I think about Honey every now and then. I don’t know how to feel about her. My sweet Honey was my girlfriend in all but name, but the Amazon Honey, that was the one I loved.

Strange isn’t it?

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