Free Dead Pretty by Roger Granelli Page B

means butterfly.’
    Mark thought of butterflies, on his native hillside in spring, orange, black and yellow, fragile wings blown around helplessly by the wind, but still getting where they wanted to go. Sometimes a fancy one would settle close to him, and he’d be amazed by its patterns. Getting fewer and fewer each year.
    â€˜What’s your connection with Lena?’
    â€˜I knew her when she was a kid. I knew her family. I helped her when she got here.’
    â€˜Yes, you really helped her, didn’t you.’
    Mark thought of hitting him again. Tony tensed for the blow and tried to curl away from him, but Mark stayed his hand. Each sliver of information he extracted from Tony was a knife in the heart for him, and if he struck Tony again he doubted that he would stop. The man’s face was already like raw steak. He knew Tony had slept with Lena. Too much fucking knowledge.
    The cigarette started to burn Mark’s fingers, and he stubbed it out quickly. He picked up the other one and put that out too. Tony was opening up now, talking for his life.
    â€˜Things was tough over there,’ Tony said. ‘We had nothing. You people here don’t understand how rich you are.’
    â€˜Who are you working for?’
    â€˜People from the old place. I was introduced to them when I first got here. They helped me, set me up and stuff. I just done favours for them, take a package here, take something there. When Flutura came over, they got her modelling work. They could use someone classy like her, someone who would be travelling around a lot. Like me, she was desperate to stay here, and when you are desperate, you do anything. They fixed it all, the passports, the jobs, even English lessons. We were in paradise, then they wanted a return.’
    â€˜You were living with Lena?’
    Mark felt his throat dry up, he could hardly get the words out. Tony was weighing up the safest answer. Truth or lies might kill him, but Mark knew the answer anyway. It was another shock for Mark, that Lena could ever touch this gelled-up, oily snake. He brought the gun closer again.
    â€˜All right. Yeah, for a while. They wanted it that way, and you don’t say no to these people.’
    â€˜Were you with her when she met me?’
    â€˜No, I swear. That was nothing to do with anyone, just you and her. We’d gone our own ways by then.’
    â€˜Why was she killed?’
    Tony breathed in deeply, coughing up a little blood.
    â€˜Stay put,’ Mark said, but Tony wasn’t in a state to do much else.
    He went to the kitchen, wet a towel and brought it back.
    â€˜Clean yourself up a bit.’
    â€˜Thanks.’
    â€˜Why was Lena killed? Like that?’
    Tony started muttering to himself, holding the towel and rocking again.
    â€˜Fuck, man. I can’t …’
    â€˜You can. You’re almost there, Tony.’
    Mark rotated the old fashioned circular barrel of the gun. It was more like something from the American West than a modern weapon.
    â€˜Where the fuck did you get this?’ Mark muttered.
    He pushed out five bullets, left one in its chamber and spun the barrel. Again it felt like he was acting out a film he’d seen so many times – make my day, punk, but this was real.
    â€˜What you doing, man?’
    Mark pointed the gun at Tony’s head and pulled the trigger.
    Tony yelled and put his hands in front of his head. The trigger fell on an empty chamber.
    â€˜Don’t they play this game in Albania? That’s not too far from Russia, is it? You like to gamble, don’t you, Tony, you just won at five to one. It might be in the spout this time.’
    Mark rotated the barrel again.
    â€˜OK, OK. Lena changed when you came on the scene. She wanted out, then she got greedy, like I said. Some of the goods went missing the last time, but they thought it was at the other end. Someone in Amsterdam paid. But this time more went and it had to be her. Lena wanted