The End of Brooklyn, page 20
“It won,” I said. “Paid Fifty-five dollars. I picked up the money from him before we left town. I needed every cent I had.”
“Guess you’re pretty good with longshots.”
“Not typically.”
“I don’t suppose you’ll let me walk off this deck.”
“Not likely.”
“I didn’t think so. You know, it was nothing personal.”
“Sorry I can’t say the same.”
He nodded and went into his jacket for his gun. Sam and I fired at the same time. Alexei went down, his gun flying out of his hand and off the deck.
The three men carrying Benny dropped him and ran up the stairs. Sam and I had them covered.
“Put Benny in the car, come back for Alexei,” I said. “Then leave.”
They looked at me, then Sam, then at each other. In the end they put Benny in the back seat, and Alexei in the trunk. Then they sent one last look our way before getting into the car and leaving.
Sam came down from the upper deck, the gun hanging limply from her shaking hands. I took it from her, and gave her a hug.
“Did I hit him?” she asked.
“I killed him,” I said. “But you probably saved us.”
“Should I pack?” she asked. “Again?”
“Afraid so.”
“Shit,” she said. “I liked it here.”
“Me, too.”
“Another new address for my agent.”
After leaving Brooklyn with me Sam had been writing her books under all different names, depending on her agent to sell them on their merit. We couldn’t afford for her to keep using the same name.
She probably shouldn’t have been writing at all, but once she agreed to leave Brooklyn with me I couldn’t ask her to give up what she loved.
“Someday,” I said, “you’ll be able to come out from behind all the pen names.”
She squeezed me around the waist and said, “Oh, I complain, but I don’t care. As long as we’re together.”
“Better get packed,” I said, kissing her.
She went to the door, then stopped.
“Nick?”
“Yeah?”
“With Benny dead, and the Russian who killed your family, what about . . .”
“We can’t go back to Brooklyn, Sam,” I said. “It was the end of Brooklyn for us a long time ago. We can’t change now.”
“I know,” she said. “I know.”
I didn’t really care about Brooklyn, anymore. There was nothing there for me. All the family I had left was Sam, and as long as she was with me, I was home.
About the Author
Robert J. Randisi, founder of the Private Eye Writers of America, is a publishing phenomenon. With more than five hundred novels under his belt, he shows no sign of slowing down. His latest work includes several books for Perfect Crime: a short-story collection, The Guilt Edge; two novels, The End of Brooklyn and The Bottom of Every Bottle; and The Shamus Winners, a two-volume compilation of more than twenty-five years’ worth of prize-winning private-eye stories.
Described by Booklist as “the last of the pulp writers,” Randisi has published in the western, mystery, horror, science fiction and men’s adventure genres. In 2009, he received the PWA’s Lifetime Achievement Award.
Randisi was born and raised in Brooklyn, N.Y., and from 1973 through 1981 he was a civilian employee of the New York City Police Department, working out of the Sixty-SeventhPrecinct in Brooklyn. After forty-one years in New York, he now resides in Clarksville, Missouri, an artisan community of five hundred people. He lives and works with writer Marthayn Pelegrimas in a small house on three acres, with a deck that overlooks the Mississippi.
If you enjoyed this book, look for these other titles by Robert J. Randisi published by Perfect Crime Books.
THE GUILT EDGE
232 pages. $12.95. ISBN: 978-0-9825157-3-0
THE BOTTOM OF EVERY BOTTLE
186 pages. $12.95. ISBN: 978-09825157-1-6
THE SHAMUS WINNERS VOLUME I (1982-1995)
336 PAGES. $14.95. ISBN: 978-0-9825157-4-7
THE SHAMUS WINNERS VOLUME II (1996-2009)
282 pages. $14.95. ISBN: 978-0-9825157-6-1
Available at bookstores, Amazon, and at ww.PerfectCrimeBooks.com
Robert J. Randisi, The End of Brooklyn
