Free Pawnbroker: A Thriller by Jerry Hatchett

right cheekbone.
    “Mark my words, Bobby, I’m gonna kill that nigger.”
    “What happened?”
    “What the hell you think? I went back to lean on Blue, find out where that body went, and his bouncing baby boy showed up again.”
    How the hell had he ever let himself get sucked into a scheme with a dumbass like this? “What now?”
    “What what what! Is that the only damn thing you know how to say?”
    “Kiss my ass, Tommy. I’ve had enough of your crap. I’m done, with you, with all of this. I’m out.”
    “Like hell you are.”
    “I’m serious, Tommy.”
    “You need to start thinking straight, Bobby Boy. We’ll go get a beer wh—”
    “I’m thinking straighter than I have in a long time, Tommy. I’m done.”

 
    Chapter 28
     
     
     
    “Doc, meet Penny.” I didn’t dare tell him her last name as long as it was avoidable. Dr. Frankie Jollette is a great guy but he also has the world’s corniest sense of humor—not counting Bill Berner—and doesn’t know when to stop. Penny Lane would have been irresistible. Just inside the door was a small office. Medical journals, newspapers, and hundreds of other books and magazines were stacked everywhere. Desk, floor, chairs, all were buried. The room smelled like an old library. Doc led us out of the office, through a narrow corridor and into the main arena for the evening, a much larger room, dark everywhere except the center, where it was brilliantly lit by an overhead operating-room light.
    I don’t know what led me to believe I was going to be ready for this. I’m a pawnbroker. Some of my customers may appear brain dead, but Johnny Homestead was way beyond that. Frankie had him on a long, stainless steel table, naked, eyes as open as they had been when they were looking over the barrel of his gun at me.
    Seeing him there like that, with that atrocious hole in his temple, my hole, was not a good moment for me. I had killed a man. This man. Dear God in heaven, what had I done?
    And if killing him wasn’t enough, now I was about to stand there and watch this? Had I lost my mind?
    “You all right, Gray?” Penny said.
    “No.”
    “I believe it. You look like hell.”
    “I can’t do this.”
    “Go in the other room. I’ll assist.”
    “You sure?”
    “Go.”

 
    Chapter 29
     
     
     
    Doc was a retired pathologist who had taught at the Ole Miss medical school for decades. He and I met about ten years ago during a deer hunt up at North Ridge hunting club. I was in a tree stand, had been there for hours, when I heard something coming through the woods. It was very quiet and I assumed it was a deer. (It was late in the season, by which time they become creatures of astounding stealth.) It took me ten minutes to spot the source of the noise, an old codger in extreme camo, painted face and all, about forty yards away, not a millimeter of the required fluorescent orange on his body. I watched him creep through the woods like a ghost. He urinated into a camo container, then quickly sealed it to contain the scent. This old man was serious, I thought.
    It took him another hour to cover the distance between us, after which he leaned against my tree and lit up a cigar that every animal in the northern hemisphere could smell. I couldn’t contain myself, and burst out laughing. He jumped, then looked up at me and hissed, “Shut up, you fool, you’ll scare off the deer!”
    So began one of my most cherished friendships. I smiled as I thought about all the laughs he had provided through the years.
    “Gray, you need to see this,” Penny said, leaning through the door. My stomach had settled, so I pulled myself up from the tattered sofa and headed back into the cutting room.
    “Oh, good grief!” I said when I got close enough to see what was going on. They had the poor guy’s chest opened up like a Christmas package, and the top of his skull had been sawn open and plucked off like a beanie cap. Yes, yes, I know this is standard procedure, but this was real,