Brokenhearted in Bakersfield

 

92 - CONFESSION IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL

“Hey, girlie, I got it for you right here,” Christos grabbed himself in a most ungentlemanly fashion.  Then he started raining curses on us.  But just when he stopped long enough to catch his breath, Maggie jumped in and confronted him.  “Hey, the cops came down on you because Ferris and Rosa Twain went missing.”

Christos joggled Maggie’s revolver irritably from side to side, “I wish it was you two dat was missin’ now.”  He bared what teeth he still had with bad intention.

Maggie plowed straight ahead unafraid of the business end of a gun.  When sufficiently riled, she will tell you all about yourself.  “We’re not responsible for the Kachinga Nation coming here looking for remnants of their ancestral heritage.  And you can’t even blame us for the fact that RobbinsYUZ cooked their corporate books, which I might add, also cooked our golden goose.  I lost more than you because of that.”  Maggie held onto my shoulder for manly support.  “Hell, we had a future.”

Christos glared, “You still do, just very short ones.”

Maggie swept her arm over the burned and cratered landscape, “And take a good look around at the devastation of Broken Heart Park.  Was that blast our doing?  No.”

“Hey, it wasn’t my fukkin’ bullet dat blew up da propane tank,” I believe I detected a crocodile tear in Christos’ eye, “and killed my fukkin’ sons.”

Maggie answered back, “it was just a bullet that was accidentally shot off by an old retired security guard in a valiant attempt at self-defense.”

“Dat man sure kills a lotta peoples in accidental self-defense,” Christos shot back.

“You should talk,” Maggie spit, causing Christos to look up with renewed bile and ill temper.  “So tell me,” she goaded him some more, “why did you kill the Minister’s Son?  What’d he ever do to you?”

Christos actually seemed to relax for a quiet moment.  “Oy.  Since I’m gonna blow your brains out anytime now, why shouldn’t I first tell youse da answer to dat one?”

Thankfully true to his word, Christos began to explain (and I prayed he wouldn’t rush his explanation).  “Da Sheriff and me had what you might call a gennlemen’s agreement between da two of us.  It was a mutual beneficial ting.  I could always trust him to watch my back, and I would watch his back like it was my own.  Well, dat night Al and his Deputy was here and dey spotted dat Philpot swine digging up da grounds.  Al knew I wanted retribution on Philpot ‘cause he’d stoled off wit da improvement funds dat I was saving up for my Florida retirement.  So Al calls me, and I call my boys, and we all go to pays a little visit out to da fambly business.  Me and my boys was gonna schmear dat Philpot!”

Christos got a faraway look in his eyes, and then he boiled over with rage.  “But when we got dere, dat Philpot asshole had already beat in da brains of my business associates with a fukkin’ shovel, an’ he caused further defilement by stripping da two officers nekkid and den puttin’ on da uniforms.  When I sawed what dey done I went wild wit my rage.  Oy!  I took aim at Philpot, when Da Golden Spook….”

“Uh, technically, that’s the Silver Ghost, Boss,” I corrected.

“Whatever,” Christos shrugged before he pointed the gun barrel back at us.  “Anyways, your pal shot Philpot dead before I hadda chance to kill him first, but I was still pretty hot under da collar, you better believe me!”

Maggie broke in, “Okay, but my question was, why did you shoot the Minister’s Son?”

Christos shrugged again, “Oy, him.  I just hated him, dat’s all.”

Christos sneered at Maggie, “Hey, girlie, why you givin’ me so much grief?  Huh?  Why?  You was in Broken Heart Park to do some killings yourself, right?  How come you was dere wit murder in your heart?  And don’t gimme dat crap you fed da cops.”

Maggie shuddered from her painful bullet wounds before she spoke, “I had my own interests to look out for.  That double-crossing prick, Owen Purty, was supposed to be keeping an eye on things for me, sniffing around.  I wasn’t sure if Philpot’s story about Aztec gold didn’t have some truth to it.  Ha, I should’ve trusted my own intuition.  But I wasn’t going to let Philpot get away with it, not if I could get away with it.  So I had Purty digging around a little to see if he could find any traces of buried treasure.  All that jerk ever found was cat shit and Indian relics.”

Maggie grimaced again in pain.

“Anyhow, Purty got scared that night when he stumbled upon the Sheriff and the Deputy sneaking up on Philpot & Co., so he gave me a call on the cell phone.  He said something big was up, and it was too much for him to handle alone.  I left my alibi here passed out in bed, and I raced over to Broken Heart Park.”

Maggie paused to blot blood from her thigh.

“Once I got here, I saw Philpot fire at our warrior guard, who went down again, but not before unleashing some hot lead of his own.  I figured if Joe Plato hadn’t been shot dead, he’d at least died of a brain concussion.  But Joe’s bullet didn’t miss its mark.  I saw Ol’ Jack’s head explode like a Gallagher watermelon.  I knew for sure he was a goner.  Now I’m ready to blow away the other pervert, but before I fire a shot, I see the flash from another gun.  It was your gun, Christos.  Like I told the cops, it was you who killed the Minister’s Son.”

A wicked smile crossed Maggie’s pretty face, “Basically, Christos, you did my dirty work.  You, and the Silver Ghost.”  Maggie laughed as she started to writhe in pain.  “Besides, I knew your little secret, and I figured the truth would come in handy one day.”

“Looks like dat day is gone now,” Christos jeered.  Then he turned to Maggie again, “So what about dat letter in Philpot’s place sayin’ you was da one responsible if anyting bad was to happen to him?”

“Ha!  Typical Philpot.  Just like that snake to leave a letter to frame me if he died.”  Maggie’s laugh was sarcastic.  “But I was way too smart for him.”

Looking direct at Christos, Maggie asked, “So why don’t you confess you were involved in the disappearance of Ferris and Rosa?”

“Well, since we is making clean wit da breasts,” Christos kicked at some debris with his boot, “sure, I was a little involved wit dat.  But why not?  Dey got me to invest in dat fukkin’ golf tournament.  What da hell was dat all about?  I lost a fukkin’ bundle.  I was even sued by some fukkin’ noodle vendor who got hurt when da fukkin’ ground collapsed under his fukkin’ cart.  Feh!”

Christos was getting more and more agitated by the moment, rubbing his belly like his guts was ready to boil over.  He waved the barrel of Maggie’s pistol at us with more menace.

“I asked dat Mama Pronto if she could help Da Boss wit a little business and get some consideration in return.  Den I get a couple steamer trunks ready and implied dat she should just take out da trash.  Dem Prontos always had a way wit trash.”  Christos grinned, “Dat sweet lady, she did exactly like what Da Boss wanted, unlike youse.  Why couldn’t you two just do like Da Boss wanted?”

I prayed for a good answer to dat.