Arthur woke up to pounding coming from his front door instead of inside his skull, which made him curse because he had obviously been woken up before the hangover he had earned last night kicked in. “Dammit, Sam,” he mumbled as he stumbled to the front door where someone was eagerly knocking.
When he pulled open the door Arthur was greeted with a highly unusual sight. His good friend Bartlebee Bean, the incredibly aptly named diminutive accountant stood on his front step dressed in some kind of Batman-esque getup complete with some of Bartlebee’s martial arts weapons. Stranger still, Bartlebee had his arm around a skinny young woman dressed only in a thong and stickers on her nipples. Sadly, knowing Bartlebee for as long as he had, Arthur found the young woman to be the more unlikely development in Bartlebee’s life.
“Whatever the hell this is, get inside and explain yourself slowly. I’m still drunk from Sam playing the Tequila Game last night.” Arthur stepped aside and ushered them into his modest kitchen. He filled the tea kettle with water and set it on the stove. “What time is it anyway?”
“Four-thirty. Do you have a coat or a sweater that Desiree can wear?” Bartlebee asked.
“Over there.” Arthur pointed to a winter coat he’d thrown over the back of one of his kitchen table chairs back in March when he’d worn it last. “Care to explain yourself?” Arthur asked as he set out three mugs for tea.
“I may have done something stupid last night,” Bartlebee began. He draped the coat over Desiree’s shivering shoulders. She had bleached blonde hair and obviously spent a good deal of time in tanning beds since she had no tan lines. Arthur tried not to stare though, judging by the scared look in her big brown eyes she had been through quite an ordeal.
“You don’t say?” Arthur chuckled.
Bartlebee ignored his comment. He adjusted his thick spectacles and continued. “I’ve been training for a long time to be able to fight back against the people who take advantage of others in this town. After old Mr. Silberberg retired last year I became the only accountant in town. I see everyone’s books and I’m smart enough to know who’s making most of their money illegally and trying to cover it up with creative book keeping. Well last night I finally did it. I went to one of Evan Smith’s bikini coffee stands and caught him abusing Desiree. Only…” he trailed off as Arthur poured tea for the three of them.
“Only it didn’t go according to plan,” Arthur prompted.
“Not at all. Actually, at first it did. I snuck up behind Smith’s bodyguard and knocked him out. But I didn’t count on the other barista helping Smith once I got inside and was fighting him. She slapped me so hard one of my contacts came out and I could hardly see a thing. Smith got in some good hits before I subdued him. I thought it was over then. I started explaining to Smith how I was going to clean up this town so that scum like him would have to live in fear instead of the rest of us.”
Arthur shook his head and took a sip of tea. It tasted fine, but he could feel himself sobering up, which meant that hangover of his was fast approaching. “Monologuing, it will get you every time.”
“Yeah, I guess so. That other barista had run off during the fight with Smith and she must have called in reinforcements. Four guys showed up with guns. They kicked down the door while I was still lecturing Smith,” Bartlebee said.
“How the hell did you not get shot?” Arthur asked.
Bartlebee bit his lip abashedly. “I’m not proud of what I did, but I used Smith as a human shield. They wouldn’t shoot at their boss and I was able to get close enough to them, they weren’t very bright you see, and take two of them out. That still left two of them though and those guys opened fire. Smith got shot in the leg and the coffee stand got riddled with holes, but I was able to grab Desiree and dive out the back window. We ran and the two thugs chased us. I’m afraid they saw my license plate when we reached my car. That’s why I brought her here instead of my place.”
“You idiot, you’re lucky you didn’t get the two of you killed.” Arthur groaned. He was right in the middle of the ring of illegal activity that Bartlebee had uncovered and getting involved in a war with Evan Smith was the last thing he wanted. Smith had all of Lester’s temper combined with Varner’s violent tendencies, but none of Varner’s subtlety.
“It’s only a couple hours until the DMV opens and I’m afraid Smith will bribe someone to tell him who owns my car,” Bartlebee explained. “Can Desiree stay here? I have a contingency plan for a safe house, but it isn’t exactly meant for cozy living.”
“If my place is cozy compared to your contingency plan, then by all means don’t torture the girl further by subjecting her to that.” Arthur drained the last of his tea. “Desiree, I bet you could use some sleep. The bedroom is at the back of the hall. There should be clean pajamas in the second drawer of the dresser.”
Desiree got up without a word and headed for the bedroom.
Arthur turned back to Bartlebee once she was gone. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I’ve been telling you for two years that I wanted to do this!” Bartlebee insisted.
“And I’ve been telling you for two years that if you do it you will get killed,” Arthur retorted. “Whatever you do, don’t touch Varner. Screwing around with Smith and Lester and whoever else you have planned will just amuse him, but if you even get near his business interests Thomas Varner will kill you slowly and no one will ever find your body.”
“But Varner is the key to the whole town’s corruption!” Bartlebee protested.
Arthur grabbed the stupid collar of Bartlebee’s Batman costume and shoved him out of his chair and up against the wall. “Listen to me, Bartlebee. I’m not joking with you here. Varner knows we’re friends. He knows we both have family in town. Hell, by the end of today he’ll know about Desiree and assume she’s important to you too. He—will—kill—us—all. Do you understand? Nod your stupid bean counter head to say you understand.”
Bartlebee nodded.
Arthur sighed. He almost never got angry and he did not like it when he did. “Go get your Bat Cave prepped or whatever you have to do.” He let Bartlebee go and watched him leave. He knew he shouldn’t get involved. He knew it, deep down in his gut. But Bartlebee was one of his only friends. “Shit,” Arthur muttered as he went into the living room, grabbed Evan Smith’s box of dimes, and loaded it up with a majority of the dimes he had spent yesterday making. Smith wasn’t due for a delivery until tomorrow, but this was the only way to get the inside scoop on what Smith was up to.
Arthur hopped into the Festiva, now completely hungover rather than still drunk. He drove over to Smith’s office and was not surprised to find the lights on despite the early hour. An armed guard stopped him outside.
“Hey boss, it’s the Dime Guy. Should I let him in?” The big man called through the doorway.
“Varner’s little prick counterfeiter? Bring him in!” Smith bellowed from inside. The guard grabbed Arthur and dragged him into the office. All the furniture in Smith’s office was gaudy and expensive looking, but not quite a good enough replication to avoid looking cheap once you saw it up close. A giant painting of Smith wielding a sword was hung right behind the enormous office chair Smith sat in. Smith tried to stand when Arthur was dragged in, but he winced and sat back down, no doubt due to the recently bandaged bullet wound to his leg.
“I got a lot of work done yesterday and want to get ahead on my deliveries,” Arthur explained.
“Bullshit. Varner sent you to see if I know he was behind last night. Well you can tell him I’m not fooled by his masked moron! All that self-righteous prattling? Come on! That had Varner and one of his master plans all over it. What’s his end game? Get me distracted chasing some piece of shit in a cape all over town while he muscles me out? You tell Varner I already have that idiot’s license plate and by lunchtime I’ll have that little cocksucker in my hands and I’m gonna make him suffer! And then I’m coming for Varner, you hear me? That pompous old windbag has finally screwed the pooch and I’m going to put him in the ground myself!” Smith’s face was red with rage by the time his rant was done.
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