Chapter 46
A FEW SECONDS LATER, Mosconi stood over me, eclipsing the weak sun. I tasted sour bile. Meanwhile, I was thinking that no one knew where we were. Del Rio and I were outnumbered and outgunned. It was Dodge City at high noon, and the smart odds were with the black hats.
Mosconi spoke softly, even kindly. “That one’s for the way you talked to Mr. Noccia,” he said. “Now get the hell up, Morgan.”
I struggled to my feet, and as soon as I was upright, Mosconi hit me with a hard right to the chin. I staggered back and fell again, crushing a lounge chair, breaking a table. Spots blinked in front of my eyes.
“That’s for trespassing,” Mosconi said. “And calling me Francis.”
I felt cold metal as he screwed his gun down into my ear. The other two were working Rick over, cursing and screaming as they pounded him.
“You’ve got to learn some respect, Morgan. You and your friend.”
“I understand,” I said. “I do. I apologize. Help me up.”
Mosconi laughed at me. He reached his hand down, and I grabbed it and twisted his wrist until Mosconi shrieked and followed his pain to the ground.
The Beretta clattered to the flagstones. I grabbed it on the second bounce and jammed the muzzle into Mosconi’s temple. Fair is fair.
“Put your guns on the ground,” I shouted to Ricci and Lifeguard. “Guns on the ground and step away.”
Joe Ricci immediately put his gun on the ground. Then so did Lifeguard.
“Morgan,” Mosconi said with a sneer. “It’s over. You win this time.”
“It’s not over yet,” I said.
I didn’t want to be followed and I didn’t want a bullet in the back, so I ordered the three of them into the pool.
Ricci took off his shoes and his watch and walked down the steps at the shallow end like a gentleman. Mosconi shed his jacket and did a cannonball. Del Rio stiff-armed Lifeguard over the side.
“Don’t forget these,” I called to them.
I tossed their guns into the pool.
The call girls began to move in closer. One of them put her hands on her knees and glowered at Mosconi in disgust. She was a little thing with blazing eyes.
“Now how are we supposed to swim in there?” she asked.
“Flap your arms and kick your legs,” Del Rio said to her.
Glenda Treat watched from a vine-draped window as Del Rio and I left her yard. I waved bye-bye, and predictably, she gave me the finger. Unfortunately, that was all I’d gotten at the Benedict Spa.