ANONYMOUS ME
McGruder waves a meaty hand and picks up where he left off when the phone rang. "The kind of work I'm talking about is special. Contracts of a nature that requires people with special skills. Some you have, more you need to learn. I'll pay you while you learn. Not everyone can qualify. I think you can. Don't get me wrong. You still work yourself out of a job on a regular basis, but there's enough money in it to carry you over the dead space."
"I'd like to know...." Mick began
"Hey, Mick!" Ben Daniels stuck his round youthful face in the door. "Oh, sorry. I didn't know you were busy."
"It's O.K." Mick said. "What's up?"
"I've got a location on Clarence Jennings. His cousin says he's staying with a chick over on Wentworth in St. Paul."
"Why is the cousin giving him up?" Mick asked.
"The cousin's house is on the bond."
"Mr. McGruder I..."
"Go get your failure to appear. I'll come back in the morning."
It was a warm June day. They decided to take the red Buick convertible, a recent repo. They put the top down and headed over to St. Paul. Ben drove.
"I used to live in St. Paul," Ben said.
"I wouldn't want to live there," Mick replied. He chose to live in Minneapolis because he thought of St. Paul as the Catholic part of the twin cities. He didn't want to live anywhere that reminded him of his catholic upbringing or the catholic school he was forced to attend as a boy.
"Who was that in your office, Mick? Client?"
"Friend of Mullins. They were in Korea together. Owns an agency in New Orleans. He wants me to go to work for him."
"Mullins knows this?"
"I assume. He set up the meeting."
"You gonna take it?" Ben asked.
"I don't know. He's talking money."
"What about Judy? Will she go to New Orleans with you?"
"I don't know if I'm going yet, Ben. That'll be up to her I guess."
"I'd think twice before I'd run off and leave a fox like that, even if she is a squaw."
"Indian, not squaw! And no one asked you what you'd do, did they?"
"No, Mick. I was just saying...."
"Keep it to yourself, Ben. What's the bond on old Clarence?" Mick asked, changing the subject.
"Five thousand," Ben told him.
"The bounty is hardly worth the trouble," Mick mumbled, remembering his recent conversation with McGruder.
"It's easy money," Ben replied turning right on Wentworth off Memorial Highway. Mick spotted Clarence halfway down the block coming toward them with a bag of groceries.
"That's him!" Mick said. "Let me out, then go up and cut him off."
Clarence saw Mick as soon as he stepped from the car. He dropped the groceries, turned and ran. Ben pulled ahead of Clarence and turned into the curb. He set the break and jumped from the car, rounding the hood just in time to tackle Clarence. Mick was there almost immediately putting on the cuffs, grabbing Clarence by his pony tail and slamming his face into the sidewalk. Clarence's scream was muffled by the crash and the screech of breaks. They both looked up to see the door of the convertible sail down the road just ahead of a red pickup truck, which was squealing, to a halt.
"Oh shit!" Ben muttered. Mick echoed the phrase.
Mick jerked Clarence upright and pushed him toward the car. "Go get the insurance info," he snapped at Ben.
Ben scrambled to his feet and ran toward the pick up pulling out his pen and notebook. Clarence was yelling and babbling as Mick tossed him into the back seat of the convertible and crawled in beside him. Mick cuffed him in the back of the head. Clarence was still sobbing when Ben returned.
"The meat head insists on waiting for the cops. I showed him a badge and told him we just need the insurance info. He says he wants to wait for a real cop."
"So we wait," Mick said lighting the crushed stub of his cigarillo. "Get that door and toss it in the trunk. I haven't called them on this wreck yet, but I can't tell them it came in this way. We'll have to get it fixed."
"There goes the bounty money and then some," Ben mutters.
"No. That's why Mullins has insurance. We'll still collect on the bounty. I don't think Mullins will dock us for it."
"I hope not."
It took half an hour for the cops to show and another forty minutes before the paperwork was finished. When they reached the lockup with Clarence it was almost 6:00 PM. The desk sergeant wrinkled his nose and looked up as Mick shoved Clarence over to the desk.
"Christ, Fallon. This guy smells like he just crawled out of a garbage dump and he's pissed himself to boot," the sergeant growled.
"Sorry, Sarge. I didn't have time to bath the bum."
"Yeah, yeah. And you always bring 'em in all banged up," he gestured to Clarence's face with the butt of his pen. "He work you over pal?"
"Never laid a hand on him, Sarge. He was running away and fell flat on his face on the concrete. Didn't have enough sense to stick out his hands to break the fall, honest. Ask Ben."
"He's lyin'," Clarence whined.
"Mick's right, Sarge. Fell flat on his kisser. Messed his nose up right good too," Ben said.
"Who you guys trying to kid. We know you banged him. If I could prove it I'd have your asses in the cage with him," the sergeant replied.
"Just sign my paper, Sarge." Mick's patience was starting to wear. It was getting late and he still had to report to Mullins before he could go home.
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