Free Hide and Snake Murder by Jessie Chandler. Page B

bed.
    The third man, who I’d never seen before, was of Latin origin. He stood maybe five-eleven, with slicked back black hair and dark eyes. He was obviously in charge. He surveyed the room and said in a clear but heavily accented voice, “Hunk, pick up the money off the floor.”
    Hunk ? Really? The large man kneeled stiffly to gather scattered bills.
    â€œDonny,” the Latino jerked his head toward the pseudo-
vampire, “I think el hombre gordo has some dólares in his pockets. Can you help him give them back?” He picked up the two pieces of the snake.
    Donny advanced on Baz, who shrieked, “I do not!” He was still on his knees, money in one hand and bills falling out of his pockets.
    The man thrust the muzzle of his gleaming blue-black handgun right in Baz’s face. With his other hand, he reached down and grabbed the edge of a hundred dollar bill peeping out of Baz’s pants pockets.
    â€œYou don’t, huh?” Donny’s voice was higher than Minnie Mouse’s. He poked Baz’s cheek with the gun. “I think you better check those pockets again. You don’t want Tomás here to get angry. They don’t call him Tommy Tormenta for nothing.”
    Hands trembling, Baz started handing over his ill-gotten booty.
    Holy crap. Hunk , Donny , and now Tommy Tormenta ? Seriously? We were trapped in a B-rated comedy.
    Rocky stared at the gun in Baz’s face. “That is a very nice FN Five-seven semi-automatic pistol.”
    How on god’s no-longer-green earth did Rocky do that?
    Tomás’s right eyebrow spiked and one corner of his mouth curled up. He said in a deadly tone of voice, “ Sí , it is, and it would be a very good idea not to piss any of us off.”
    As Baz handed over the last bill, I looked at Agnes. She was almost as white as Donny, and sat primly on the edge of the bed, her hands folded in her lap. Coop’s jaw muscle bulged every few seconds, but he wasn’t chewing any gum. I tried to think of a way out of this, but with three armed men against two ladies-of-a-certain-age, one working-on-reforming pacifist, a certified idiot, a challenged man, and me … we were a little overwhelmed.
    Tomás said, “Give me your cell phones. Then we go.” He motioned toward the door with his gun, then leveled it at Baz’s chest. “ Señor, it would do you much good to hand it over now.” He held out his other hand expectantly.
    Baz, his eyes all squinty and mouth bunched up as if he were about to throw a tantrum, removed a phone from his pocket and slapped it in the palm of Tomás’s hand. I half-wished Baz would go into a full-on meltdown. Maybe the distraction would give us a chance to do something.
    Instead, Tomás turned his dark eyes on me. “Your turn, señorita.”
    Hope fading fast, I narrowed my eyes and handed over my iPhone. Coop followed suit.
    â€œAnd you two,” Tomás addressed Eddy and Agnes. “If you have a phone, I suggest you give it to me right now.”
    â€œI hate those things,” Eddy said, “and so does Agnes. Doncha, Aggie?” Eddy elbowed her, eliciting a grunt.
    Agnes rubbed her side and nodded. “Wouldn’t catch me dead with one.” She looked Tomás in the eye. “And Rocky doesn’t have one either.”
    Tomás nodded. He picked up the empty ice bin sitting on the top of the dresser and then walked into the bathroom. Water ran for a minute, then Tomás reappeared holding the dripping bucket.
    â€œSay adios. ”
    I nearly cried as my spendy gadget went for a swim along with the others. He set the bucket back on the dresser. That was one sure way of taking care of our communication issues.
    Tomás dusted his hand and said, “Let’s go, then. Nice and slow. Donny, you stay with me. Hunk, you lead. And,” he stared us down through hard, cold eyes, “I would not try to escape. Situations like this