The Maine Events by Rodney Riesel (most important books of all time txt) 📕

could still be alive, but who knows for how much longer?”

“I know, but other than breaking into Strong's houseourselves, what else—”

“Maybe that's what we need to do then. How many people livein the house?”

“I think just Strong and his mother.”

“He lives with his mother?”

“His mother lives with him.”

“That's so nice. A boy should always take care of his moth—”

“Really, Donnie? The guy is a piece of crap gangster who mayhave killed two children.”

“Yeah, I know, but other than that, it's nice he takes careof his mother. That's all I was saying.”

“Strong also has at least two thugs working for him that Iknow of—Vinny Tubbs, and Myron Spoon.”

“So, three against two.”

“We may have one more—Cam Owens.”

Donnie looked unimpressed. “You mean that old guy who washelping search for Jacob?”

“Yeah, that's him. He and his wife decided to stick aroundtown for a while until there's some kind of closure.”

“What is he, like, a hundred years old?”

“He's not as old as he looks. I think he's only in his earlyseventies.”

“Only?”

“When I first got here, I got into a little fracas withTubbs and Spoon and—”

“Can't get along with anybody, can you, Allen?”

“Shut up and listen! Cam was with me, and he took Spoon outpretty damn handily. He's a spry old dude. Plus, he has a gun.

Donnie remained skeptical. “Oh, great. So, it'll be you, me,and Methuselah with a gun.”

“I also have a gun.”

“I'll be the only one without a gun?”

“You're a goddamn karate master, for chrissakes. What wouldyou need with a gun?”

“Even Chuck Norris carries a gun.”

“You think you could take Chuck Norris?”

“No!”

“I didn't figure you could. I think Cam said his wife has agun. Maybe you can borrow that.”

“A girl's gun? You want me to use a girl's gun? Why, becauseI'm gay?”

“A girl's gun? What's a girl's gun? I highly doubt Mildred'spistol is pink with flowers and rhinestones.”

“Ooh, that would be awesome if it was though.”

“Good God, what am I getting myself into?”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was almost five o'clock Tuesday evening when Cam Owensarrived at Allen's open door. Donnie was sitting on the sofa with Frankie'shead on his lap. He had a red plastic cup of white wine in his hand. The openwine bottle was sitting on the end table next to him. Allen was sitting at thetable looking at Google Maps on his laptop. An open pizza box lay on the bedwith three slices left. A bottle of tequila sat on the table next to the laptop.Allen picked up his tequila and ice and took a sip.

Cam reached his arm inside the room and knocked on the opendoor. “Knock, knock,” he said. “Hey, no one told me it was a pizza party.”

“Come on in, Cam,” Allen said. He pointed at Donnie. “Youmet Donnie the other day?”

“Shore did,” Cam replied. “How ya doin', Donnie?”

“Good, Cam,” Donnie replied.

Frankie jumped off the couch and ran to greet Cam.

“How's it goin', little fella?” Cam asked the dog, as hepatted him on the side.

Frankie rubbed up against Cam's leg and then returned to thesofa.

Cam pulled out one of the chairs and sat down.

“Drink?” Allen asked.

“Shore. Whatcha got?”

“Tequila.”

“And?”

“Ice.”

“Sounds good. So, what is it you wanted to talk to meabout?”

Allen stood and walked to the cabinet for a plastic cup. Hetore the clear wrapper off the cup, added ice, and returned to the table.“Where to begin?” Allen said. He poured tequila into the cup and handed it toCam. “We're pretty sure we think we might know where Jacob Palmer is.”

“The words pretty sure, think, and might really stand out inthat sentence,” said Cam.

“Yeah,” Donnie agreed, “you didn't sound very confident.”

“How pretty sure are you?” Cam asked.

“Pretty, pretty sure,” Allen answered.

“But not sure enough to call the cops?”

“Can't call the cops,” said Donnie.

“Why not?” Cam asked.

“We think one of the cops is working for the guy who hasJacob.”

“We?” Donnie asked.

“I,” Allen corrected.

“That's not good,” Cam said. “You think the boy is alive?”

“I'm hoping so,” Allen replied. “We—I think he's being heldby a local mobster in a house right down the road from here.”

“You called me, but you can't call the cops,” saidCam. “What part do I play in this?”

“What would you say about the three of us going to thathouse and checking it out for ourselves?” Allen asked. “Armed of course.”

“I'd say you were insane,” Cam responded. He downed hisentire drink in one gulp and handed the cup back to Allen. “Hit me.”

“He has a plan,” said Donnie.

“Yeah, everyone has a plan,” said Cam. “Until they getpunched in the mouth. I think Mike Tyson said that.”

Allen poured two shots into the cup and handed it to Cam.

“What's the plan?” Cam asked.

“We go in wearing ski masks and with weapons drawn,” Allenexplained.

“That's your plan?” Cam asked. “That's a horrible plan. Ifthe boy ain't there, we're all going to prison.”

“But if he is there, we won't get into any trouble,” saidDonnie.

“Except for maybe getting shot and killed,” Cam pointed out.

“Look,” Allen said, “I realize none of us has ever doneanything like this before, but—”

“That's not exactly true,” said Cam. “Remember me tellingyou about the bed and breakfast Mildred and I stayed in the last time we camethrough here?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, mobsters came to that little town too.”

“What town?” Donnie asked.

“Dunquin Cove,” Cam replied. “Some real bad guys came afterthe owner, her son, and her boyfriend. There was a pretty nasty shootout. Sixmen lost their lives. I killed three of them myself.”

“Holy shit,” Allen said. He looked from Cam to Donnie andback. “It's like having Rambo and Chuck Norris right here in my motel room.What could go wrong?”

“That reminds me,” said Donnie, “can I borrow your wife'sgun?”

“How do you know my wife has a gun?” Cam asked.

“Allen told me.”

“Have you ever shot a gun before?” Cam asked.

“As a matter of fact, I've shot a machine gun a few times.”

“Where?”

“At the county fair. Pretty good aim too, if I do say somyself. Ya see, the trick is short bursts. On several occasions, not a bit ofthat red star was left—won a giant panda for Evan. It was a great day. Westopped