Tommy Cortex: Dead Men Can't Pay, part 2

I'm a pretty busy guy these days. First, I have my business, my organization, to tend to. I think of it like my own little garden, with weeds to pull, bugs to spray, plants to water and look after. I have to make my rounds fairly often, touch base, keep my ear to the street. If someone's eyeing what's mine, I have to know. If an opportunity's in the wind to make some profit, I gotta know that too. Then, there's Titan Industries. The work there's interesting, and my paycheck has a lot of digits, but it's not all coffee and muffins. Though the muffins are friggin' extraordinary. And the coffee.....well, I'd cap a man for a cup of Wheeler's coffee. It's that good.

Busy as I am, though, I try to make time to enjoy a little of what I make. Every once in a while, a lady'll catch my eye, and I'll wine and dine her, the best of everything. Nothing too good for Tommy's lady, y'know? It's not often that one will keep my interest past the first date, though. Tonight was a rare exception. Her name was Brigitte, and she was something else. Tall, fair skin, auburn hair, curves that could make a man do something stupid. But, she wasn't all looks, either. She was whip-smart, with a wicked sense of humor. My kind of lady. We sat at the best table in Venizzi's, a little trattoria in Martial I all but owned. I looked into those big brown eyes of hers, and was pretty sure she was thinking the same thing I was. I was just about to ask for the check, and get her back to my place. We hadn't had dessert yet, but I had plans for something sweeter.

Then my cell vibrated. I debated not even bothering, but something told me that'd be a bad move. I listen to that voice when it says something, which is why I'm still alive, capice? I sighed, "Sorry, baby, but I gotta take this." I flipped the cell open, and said, "Tony, this had better be good." Tony's flat voice greeted me, "It ain't good, Tommy. It's the opposite. That'd be 'bad'." I stood up and walked towards the back of the place. "All right, start talking."

Tony said, "Luca Briones was killed a couple hours ago." I closed my eyes and struggled not to swear like a sailor. Shit, not another one. Luca was into me for about forty-five large. He wanted to open a liquor store in Port Oakes, but needed some start-up capital. The banks weren't giving him the time of day, but I did. Hey, he seemed a decent enough guy, and I like to encourage new business where I can, y'know? I growled, "Tell me." Tony did. Seems Luca opened the door for what he thought was the pizza delivery guy, but all he got was a couple slugs in the face. Nothing was taken, so robbery was out. I started to get a really nasty suspicion. A lot of people owe me, but the one thing Luca had in common with Kowalski was they'd just started making payments. So, with them dead, I was losing a lot more money. Also, Luca met his maker the same way Kowalski did. This was bad news. A few more of these hits and I'd start feeling the pinch.

"Tony, someone's trying to bust out my business."

"Yeah, Tommy, that's what I think, too. You want to come take a look at the place with me?"

I hesitated. "Nah, I think you can handle it. I'm working on something right now."

"Okay, Tommy. Oh, that girl you're seeing? You told me to check her out. Good thing you did, boss."

"Why?"

"She's with the Knives, Tommy. The lady who told me said she'd been contracted for a hit. Say, Tommy, you don't think..."

"Changed my mind. Meet me at Briones' place in an hour." I hung up. Son of a bitch. Figures. I went back to the table, gave the ice-cold killer my best smile, and said, "Change of plans, sweets. I gotta see a man about a loan." She opened her mouth to protest, but I continued. "Look, I have the penthouse suite at the Hendricks Arms. Why don't you go see the doorman, tell him Tommy said it's ok? He'll let you in, and I'll meet you there when I get done." She flashed me those pearly whites. "In the meantime, you should try the port here. It's the best, y'know?"

I flagged down the owner. "Carlo, my friend, a bottle of your best port. And whatever else the lady would like. On me." I narrowed my eyes a little, and 'pushed' into his mind, silently adding, "I want this bitch dead, Carlo. Put some cyanide in her port. You know how much." If he was startled by my intrusion, he didn't give any indication, but this wasn't the first time. Carlo Venizzi and I go way back. This was 'Brigitte's' last meal, but I gotta say....as last meals go, you could do a lot worse than the chicken carbonara at Venizzi's. I'd worry about the Knives later. Right now, I needed to figure out who was trying to put me out of business.