Silence on the Gun

Start writing...Me and Jules on yet another stake-out

The intended target, a small-time pawn broker

Charles "Heap" Ramone smacked around the wrong kid

The child of a guy with enough juice, and connections

To have him murdered.

This situation could have been handled with a sit-down

Lay down the law

Put the fear into old, Heap

Followed by a smack in the mouth, if necessary

Or even a beating

A broken arm or leg could be arranged if Heap got stubborn

There were any number of ways to make a point

Demand respect

Plant fear

The old man begs for his life

You let him live

Respect given

A simple solution

Why murder?

***

In the old days the guy would have marched his son into Heap's

And made him apologize

The kid may have even gotten a slap upside the head

For embarrassing his father

Not showing any respect

Or class

He could have turned it into a teaching moment, the father I mean

The kid might have learned something

Not anymore

Not these days

This is a guy you would know if I mentioned his name

He has a reputation, a history of violence

This guy wants to escalate the situation right up to first-degree murder

Right off the bat

And I'm his connection

The hitman, me.

It's what I do, the slot I've fallen into

Jules too.

***

Jules says, "Give me the piece."

I hand it over.

He adds silence to the gun

Ten minutes later

Heap, coming out of his store, locking up

Jules walks over and fires two shots into the back of Heap's neck

Heap dead at the scene.

***

Later

Convo is as follows

I ask, "think we could have handled that without killing the guy?

Jules says, "No." Sips his coffee. "Heap had a big mouth."

"What did he say?"

"First he beat the kid up right in his store."

"I didn't know that."

"Then you also didn't know he bragged about it afterward."

"Serious? He bragged about beating up a kid?

"Yeah, a fourteen-year-old kid."

"I never knew the guy."

"Your lucky. He's been a jerk for years. Heap needed to go"

"I never crossed paths with this, Heap."

"Consider yourself lucky. He was a nasty old man."

"Jules, why'd they call him Heap?"

"That's what the inside of his shop looked like, a heap, a garbage dump."

"What did the kid do to get a beating?"

"He probably touched something he wasn't supposed to, I don't know."

"Did Heap know who this kid's dad was?"

"Yeah. That's why he beat him up. Heap was sending a message."

"The kid must of had a mouth on him."

"The kid was special needs."

Heap beat up a...

"A special needs kid, yeah."

"That's low."

"A lot of people think guys like you and I only exist in Scorsese films; that we're all locked up or in witness protection."

"Right. I agree. We're not the only game in town anymore."

"People like Heap lose their fear, forget their manners, disregard the respect we deserve.

I said, "sometimes you have to remind them."

Jules said, "right, so Heap is dead."

I said, "guess he got the message."

Jules pulls a wallet from his raincoat, extracts a hundred-dollar bill

Slips it under his plate

He flashes the wallet at me, I notice CR is carved into the leather.

"Breakfast on Heap."