Controlling my smile, I broke the tension with a laugh. “Forget it. My bad. Let's just toast to Frankie and clear this heavy air.”
I ordered two more drinks, keeping my eye on Hecko the whole time. He never saw me slide the packet from my sleeve, never spotted me tapping the powder into his drink.
I would have tried to ply him with more alcohol, but I knew it was pointless. He had sealed the topic. Hecko didn't trust me.
It was a wise decision.
I handed him the glass. Together, we clinked them with reverence; dedication to a man long dead, a man I had helped kill.
The moment Hecko took his greedy gulp, I counted the seconds. I knew how much of the poison I had given him. It would be crawling into his bloodstream, twisting his guts and muddying his mind.
In three minutes, he'd be a dizzy mess. A pliable mess.
Tapping my finger on my knee, I waited him out with a smile. Soon, his cheeks turned the color of paste. I said, “You look like you need some air, let's go out for a smoke.”
He grunted, grip shaking on his glass. Hecko stumbled; I hooked my arm around him for support. The bartender was staring at us. I crooked an apologetic smile and mouthed, 'Too much to drink' at her.
She nodded, turning away.
Busting through the alley exit, I made a soothing sound as Hecko groaned. His ability to stand on his own was fading. As if on cue, my green haired friend bent away from me, vomiting on the filthy concrete.
“Come on,” I whispered, listening to Hecko's pained babbling. “Over here. Let's get you set up.” Dragging the man around a corner, I ducked into the long alleyway.
Hecko coughed, pushing against me feebly. The poison had done its job. He was conscious, but disoriented and frail.
Crouching on the opposite side of a dumpster that smelled too much like rotten eggs, I knelt beside him. “How are you feeling?” I asked.
“What... what's wrong with me?” he groaned, unable to see me—or anything—in the dark.
Firmly, I pushed a hand onto his throat; held him against the cold wall. I put enough pressure to frighten, to keep him from squirming.
Fear was as useful a tool as cyanide.
My thumb dug in harder. Under me, his pulse was rapid. How strange it must have felt for him, to have a heart throbbing so madly while his limbs refused to obey. “What did you do to me, you cocksucker?” he croaked.
Leaning in, I whispered, “I poisoned you.”
The long, pathetic wail that Hecko released made my hairs stand on end. “No! Please! I promised him I wouldn't say a word! Why does he need to kill me? I didn't care what he did, I told him that! Even if he offed Frankie... it didn't matter to me! Please, let me call him, let me clear things up!”
I turned his head, let him vomit down his own shoulder. Instantly, I snapped his face back to me. “Who offed Frankie?”
“I don't deserve to die,” he moaned. “I paid for my sins already! I'm out of the game... haven't hurt anyone since... since that last girl... that dumb stripper...”
My blood went cold. If I'd had any reason to feel bad for this man before, it evaporated.
Hecko said, “Lars always helped me clean up my messes... I'm loyal to him, I swear. I just want a normal life. He said I could have one, I just had to turn a blind eye to what he was going to do to Frank.”
I bit my fingers into his neck. “Is that his partner's name? Lars? Is the man with the gap-tooth named Lars?” And did he really ordered the death of his own partner?
A full body shudder went through Hecko. “Wait, what? I thought... didn't he send you to kill me?”
Lifting the pistol from my jacket, I pushed the cold tip to his forehead. I hoped he could hear my smile. “Not exactly. But he might want you dead after you tell me what you know.”
His eyes shot wide, straining in his skull. “No! I'm not a rat!”
I clicked the safety off. The metallic sound was a punch to the ribs. “Tell me his full name.”
Hecko squeaked pathetically. “Lars Diani! His name is Lars Diani!”
Not a rat, indeed.
He breathed in deeply, struggling for air. The poison wouldn't kill him, I hadn't given him enough. Sliding the gun down, I nuzzled it on Hecko's cheek. “He's the man who used to help Frankie burn down businesses, destroy families who didn't pay them?” I needed confirmation that this was Marina's family's murderer.
His hand came up, wiping at my wrist weakly. He'd find no hold, his nails doing nothing to my sleeves. “How did you know about that? It was so long ago.”
The nose of my pistol ran over his temple. “So it is him. But why would Lars order a hit on Frank? Weren't they friends?”
Hecko was silent. I nudged him, listened to him wheeze. He was losing consciousness from the poison. “I—what?” he mumbled.
“Weren't Frank and Lars friends, partners?”
“Yeah... they used to be. The Dianis and the Montegos have always been close...”