“What the hell are you doing here?” Arthur demanded. “And how could you bring Desiree back here? You know Varner wants to kill both of you!”
Bartlebee grinned smugly. “Not if I kill him first.”
“Kill him? When did you start killing people?” Arthur and Sam gawked at Bartlebee.
Bartlebee put his arm around Desiree proudly. “We spent a lot of time talking while we were on the run. Desiree told me how much safer she felt knowing Smith could never, ever come back for her. That’s the kind of protection I want to offer this town: permanent safety.”
“So you took a three day road trip and went from wanting to be Batman to wanting to be a serial killer. That’s just great,” Arthur growled.
“Says the man who already killed two criminals himself!” Bartlebee shot back.
“Because I had to or they were going to kill you, remember? I killed Smith and Hank out of necessity, not because it was my life plan!” Arthur shouted. “Can’t you see how insane this is? You’re just going to get yourself killed!”
“Then at least I’ll die doing what I know is right,” Bartlebee said stubbornly.
“Murder is not right!” Arthur replied exasperatedly.
“And sitting idly by, counterfeiting dimes for them is?” Bartlebee asked. “Let’s face it, Arthur. You have no moral high ground here. You’re financing the pain and suffering of people like Desiree.”
Arthur, thoroughly frustrated and still quite drunk, rubbed his forehead angrily. “Obviously I’m not a good example for anyone to base their life on, but I can’t see how you can honestly think what you’re proposing is somehow morally superior.”
“That’s because you’re a coward,” Desiree chimed in. She ran her hand along Bartlbee’s thin chest lovingly. “You killed those men out of fear for your own life and then blamed someone else for the second murder just so you could stay in your comfortable life of getting drunk and padding the bottom lines of scum like Smith and Varner. Bartlebee knows what’s right and he’s willing to do anything to help others, not just whatever is convenient for him.”
“Oh-my-God! You’re both insane. Was there nerve gas in your car on that road trip? You are both out of control.” Arthur shook his head. “Help me out here, Sam.”
Arthur looked over at Sam and saw she had a contemplative frown on her angular face.
“What, you aren’t actually considering agreeing with them, are you? Is their madness contagious? Is the only cure tequila? I never thought my tequila drinking would ever amount to anything helpful!” Arthur whirled around paranoidly.
“Calm down,” Sam said sternly. “Of course, morally, what they’re proposing is horrible. But at the same time, we find ourselves in a very difficult position between Priscilla and Varner.”
“What do you mean, a difficult position?” Bartlebee asked.
“Nothing!” Arthur cut in before Sam could explain.
Bartlebee looked intently at Sam. “Are the two of you in trouble? Has Priscilla finally decided to make a powerplay against Varner and forced Arthur into the middle of it?”
Sam nodded. “Varner killed Mason and now she wants Arthur to kill Varner for her tomorrow.”
“Then it’s settled,” Bartlebee said. “You shouldn’t have argued with me, Arthur. I can do this, I’ll grab Varner when he arrives at the grocery store tomorrow morning. I’ll knock out his guards and take him out into the woods and execute him. Everyone will think it’s just another disappeared criminal who ran afoul of the masked vigilante.”
Arthur shook his head and stormed out of the kitchen. He slammed the bedroom door when he got inside. How had this happened? A week ago the most troubling part of his life had been that he couldn’t work up the courage to ask a waitress out and now everyone around him was dying and he was a murderer!
A few minutes later Sam came into the bedroom and sat on the bed beside him. “I understand why you’re angry.”
“Why would you encourage him like that?” Arthur asked.
Sam sighed sadly. “Because we were in an impossible position. If we try to kill Varner we’d just get killed. If we go to Varner and tell him about Priscilla he won’t protect us from her and we’d end up just as dead.”
“Just as dead as Bartlebee, you mean.” Arthur ground his teeth. “We could have run.”
“And taken your mom, dad, sisters, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins with us? They all live in Port Haven and Priscilla and Varner both know it. They would have tortured them until you came home just to prove the point that no one escapes their punishment. We were stuck, we may still be stuck if Bartlebee fails, but at least not there’s a chance that he’ll take care of Varner for us.” Sam reached out and put her hand gently on Arthur’s shoulder. “I know it’s not in your nature to look on the bright side, but things might actually turn out okay for us.”
Arthur put a hand on top of Sam’s and squeezed it tenderly. “That would certainly be a nice change of pace.”
+
The orange light of the early morning sunrise glinted off of Varner’s car as he approached the back entrance of the grocery store. There appeared to have been an explosion recently that had damaged the steps leading up to the door, evidently Priscilla and Varner’s war for Port Haven was already in full swing. Bartlebee was concealed behind a dumpster. waiting for the early rising Varner to arrive at his office.
The driver parked in Varner’s usual space and two guards got out, scanned the perimeter, and then opened the door for Varner. Two toughs and the driver, no problem, Bartlebee thought. As they approached a carefully aimed rock hit one of the guards in the forehead, dropping him. Varner and his two remaining thugs looked around for the source of the unconventional attack.
In the woods behind the store Desiree set off a firecracker, just like they had planned. All three men turned towards the loud bang. Bartlebee leapt from his hiding place hit the remaining guard over the head with his quarterstaff and jabbed the driver in the back of his knee, sending him sprawling on the pavement. A quick second thrust knocked the driver unconscious and then it was just Varner and Bartlebee.
Varner drew his gun and Bartlebee swatted it out of his hand with his staff. “Mr. Bean, I’m so glad you chose to return to Port Haven,” Varner said with an ugly sneer.
“It’s time for you to pay for your crimes, Varner.” Bartlebee waved his hand to signal Desiree to bring the car around. “And I’m going to make sure no one else takes your place as the criminal mastermind in this town. Do you understand? Your time is over!”
“I understand very well. I understand that the time for civility is over and that I have you and your skinny bikini barista to thank for that. You see, I’ve only ever loved one person…” Varner trailed off, obviously waiting for Bartlebee to say something.
“I don’t care who you-” Bartlbee’s eyes bulged as Varner flicked his wrist unexpectedly and something small hit Bartlebee in the back of the throat. Varner threw himself recklessly at Bartlebee, knocking him to the ground and placing both hands over Bartlebee’s mouth to keep him from opening it. Bartlebee’s mind reeled. Whatever was in his mouth tasted metallic, could a poison capsule taste metallic? For an older man, Varner was surprisingly strong and quick.
“...Hank.” Varner closed his eyes and braced himself.
The miniature grenade in Bartlebee’s mouth popped and that was the end of Bartlebee Bean.
+
Desiree drove Bartlebee’s car around from the dirt road in the woods they had hidden it on. When she approached the back of the grocery store she could tell something had gone wrong, but how? Bartlebee had given her the all clear signal.
No one was standing in the rear parking lot and there was a fourth body on the ground, this one with a bloody red mess where its head used to be. Varner’s car was gone and tears began to stream down Desiree’s eyes.
“No, no, no,” she whispered. She jumped out of the car and ran to Bartlebee’s headless body, still refusing to believe that what she was seeing was real. “I don’t understand,” she moaned. “Everything went perfectly! How could you...how could you be…” She couldn’t say it. It just couldn’t be real! She must have hit her head on a branch in the woods. Desiree pinched herself hard, but the scene in front of her refused to fade.
“Oh God!” Desiree cried out and buried her face against Bartlebee’s chest. “Something must have happened! Someone must have ruined your perfect plan. Someone must have...must have betrayed you!” She realized with a painful flash of clarity. That was the only explanation. Everything had gone according to plan. According to their perfect plan. But who could have betrayed them?
“Arthur,” she spit the word out like a curse. “That snivelling, stinking coward! He was going to sell Bartlebee out to Varner last time and now he’s finished the job! I’m going to kill him!”
+
Arthur wasn’t nearly as hung over as he deserved to be. Sam had made him stay up late drinking water and talking about anything to take their minds off of what Bartlebee was going to do the next morning and how the outcome would affect them. Now they were sitting at Sam’s kitchen table waiting anxiously for Bartlebee and Desiree to return. Sam had given Macy twenty dollars and told her to go out for ice cream with Jimmy and she had happily obliged.
“Maybe it’s taking longer than they thought to bury the body. Both of them are skinny and kind of short,” Sam said hopefully.
Arthur glanced at the clock anxiously. “I’m sure that’s it.”
The knock on the door made both of them jump halfway out of their skins. Arthur looked at Sam and they both laughed nervously. He stood to get the door.
“It’s just Desiree, no Bartlebee,” Arthur told Sam perplexedly.
“Well open the door, then. Maybe Bartlebee got hurt and needs our help.” Sam rose from her chair and took a step toward the door.
As soon as Arthur opened the door Desiree lunged at him with a knife and growled a feral snarl. Arthur only barely stepped back in time to avoid getting a knife in his eye, but he still got a nasty slash down the side of his face.
“You killed him, you bastard!” Desiree roared as she threw herself at Arthur a second time. Arthur caught her knife hand’s wrist as she tackled him to floor. Desiree punched him as hard as she could in the nose with her free hand.
“Help!” Arthur shouted, but Sam was already moving. She swung the kitchen chair she had been sitting in a moment ago to batter Desiree off of Arthur. Arthur scrambled to his feet, searching for a weapon. Desiree was also back standing and she squared off with Sam and her chair. Sam charged at Desiree, blocking her wild knife slash and forcing her back along the countertops.
When Sam had pushed Desiree back far enough that they were standing in front of the sink, Sam reached out to the drying rack, quickly grabbed the frying pan she had cooked breakfast with, and slammed it down on top of Desiree’s head. Desiree crumpled and the knife clattered harmlessly to the floor.
“What the hell do you think that was about?” Sam asked, breathing heavily from the stress of her brief struggle.
Arthur shook his head, sending drops of blood from his cut face spraying in every direction. “I have no idea.”
“What should we do with her?” Sam looked over at the unconscious Desiree.
Arthur shrugged. “Tie her up, I suppose. Then we can ask her what happened to Bartlebee when she wakes up.
Sam looked at him sternly. “I can ask her what happened, you mean. You are going to a hospital to get that cut taken care of. Come on, help me tie her up and then I’ll drop you off and come right back here to question her.”
+
Arthur felt the stitches on his face and winced. According to Doctor Herman there would always be a faint scar along his right cheek. His house was only a mile away from the hospital, so Arthur decided to walk home rather than calling Vicktor from the receptionist’s phone. That way he could drive himself back over to Sam’s place and she wouldn’t have to leave Desiree unattended again. Plus, he could change out of the ridiculous clothes the hospital had lent him to replace his bloody shirt and jeans.
It felt strange that it wasn’t quite noon yet. So much had happened this morning, the hours of agonizing waiting, Desiree’s attack, and a visit to the hospital all still in the AM. Arthur arrived at his house-was it still his house now that Lester was dead? He had no idea, but obviously no one had been there since his last visit to pick up clothes.
Arthur went straight to his bedroom and stripped off the sickly yellow shirt and generic grey sweatpants from the hospital and was looking for a clean shirt to wear when he thought he heard a sound from the front of the house. He peeked hesitantly out into the hallway and Priscilla waved at him with her own special brand of menacing cheerfulness.
“Nice underoos. It’s time to pay the price for failure, Dimey.” She crooked her finger, beckoning to come out into the hall.
Arthur’s mind spun as he tried frantically to think of what to say. “Failure? I thought I had all day. I haven’t even been to see Varner yet!”
Priscilla pouted. “Really? The ‘oh gosh-golly-gee I haven’t even tried yet’ excuse? I expected better of you, Dimey. Varner doesn’t want to see your scrawny ass except to shove a hot poker so far up it he chars your stomach lining. Your boy Bean tangled with the old man and got his head blown off. Dick move, by the way, sending Accountant Batman to do your dirty work. Now come with me.”
Arthur followed her, still in his underwear. He looked desperately around for a weapon, but there was nothing at hand in the hallway and when they reached the living room three ugly men with guns were waiting for him. They were loading up his minting equipment. “What’s going on?” Arthur asked.
“I’ve decided that I don’t want to share your dimes with every damn yokel in town. I’m taking all this crap for myself to help finance my soon to be expanding criminal empire. I can have people working this thing twenty-four hours a day and export all over the state. You could be the best thing that ever happened to my professional life, Dimey.” Priscilla nodded happily. “It’s a shame that I’m going to have to torture you, probably to death, but I don’t mind if you take a more optimistic tack.”
“Torture me? Why?” Arthur calculated the odds of a successful escape. Basically zero.
Priscilla looked at him as though he were a simple minded idiot. “How else do you think I’ll be able to convince your girlfriend to kill Varner for me?”
+
“Shit! God dammit!” Sam growled frustratedly. She had to admit that she wasn’t going to find Desiree. When Sam had returned to her apartment Desiree was nowhere to be seen so she had searched the surrounding area, reasoning that she couldn’t have gone far. Desiree was gone, though and with her any chance of safely finding out what had happened with Varner this morning.
The fact that Desiree had gone psycho and tried to kill Arthur was not a good sign, Sam knew. Neither was the fact that Bartlebee was missing in action. Still cursing to herself, Sam drove over to the hospital to check on Arthur.
“What do you mean he checked himself out already?” Sam asked the receptionist. She was trying desperately not to yell at the poor woman, but she had reached wits end about two hours ago.
“He asked me to let you know he was going to walk home and then meet you at your place,” the receptionist told Sam in a bored monotone.
Sam took a deep breath and forced herself to say, “Thank you.” Then she drove like hell for Arthur’s house.
“Please God, let him be okay. Don’t let Desiree have found him on his way home,” Sam whispered when she saw that Arthur’s shitty little Festiva was still in the driveway.
Sam jumped out of her truck and ran to Arthur’s front door, it was unlocked.
“Arthur!” Sam shouted frantically. “Arthur, are you home?”
Then she saw the note on hot pink construction paper taped to the refrigerator. It read:
“Dearest Dimey’s Girlfriend,
I have Dimey and will be torturing him for the next twenty-four hours, maybe less if I get too excited. You have as long as he is still alive to kill Varner. My associate will be waiting at your bar to tell you where to find me.
Love always,
Priscilla”
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