"You, the aspiring Vaudeville actress, go in and turn on the light," Murphy motioned with his head in Vera's direction. Vera, happy to put her arms down, complied as cheerfully as she could given the circumstances. Murphy gestured for the other three to stand to the side of the door at a safe distance, so he could peer in at the inventory and keep an eye on his hostages.
When the door opened, it swung inward into the storage space and to the left. "Ok," he snapped at Vera, who answered his bark with a scowl, "go stand behind the door." She did as commanded.
"Now what?" her muffled voice retorted.
"Now come back so I can see you again."
"What was the point of that?"
"I just needed to be sure that no one was behind the door to ambush me." Murphy glanced over at Tannehill. "I'm willing to bet you have more figured out than I'm giving you credit for, even though your clearance rate as a detective was pitiful, CH." Tannehill creased his mouth and shrugged in an indication of lackadaisical acknowledgment.
"So, what's actually in the room?" Murphy addressed his question to the audience at large, causing everyone to remain quiet for an extended beat.
Vera broke the silence. "Several dozen priceless artifacts, German bonds, and a fairly sizeable chunk of US change."
"How much in cash and bonds?"
"About 2 million dollars, US currency," Emily responded curtly. Murphy whistled, impressed with the haul. "But," she continued, "we're willing to share, of course."
"You're willing to share?" A note of amused confusion crept into his voice.
"Certainly."
"And," he smacked his lips, "what makes you think I'm willing to share?" He swung the machine gun to face her directly.
Emily paused in shock at his response. "Because," she stammered, "because you can't gun down four people and claim it was in self-defense."
Murphy cocked his eyes upward in a dramatic imitation of deep thought. "You, know, you're right. I can't gun down four people in self-defense, but," he let this last contraction linger in the air, "A reckless pair like yourself and Otto would certainly gun down two innocent people and then disappear with the most expedient goods, like a bundle of cash worth two million dollars. When they don't find you, they'll just assume you've dashed away to some exotic local."
"So," Tannehill interjected, "has it always been your intention to gun down all of your associates, or was that just happenstance?"
Murphy jerked back in an exaggerated pantomime of shock, "I have a fairly strong sense of honor, CH. I didn't plan to kill Snell. He brought me into," he waved the gun in dramatic fashion toward the storage room, "this! And I was certainly grateful."
"He brought you in for protection?" It came out as a question but Tannehill intended it as a rhetorical one rather than an interrogative one.
"Of course," Murphy's tone matched Tannehill's in his own rhetorical response. "It's easier to move this much merchandise knowing you've got someone to help handle the logistics. He was going to give me a fairly substantial cut, even at the expense," he glanced over at Emily and Otto, "of our other partners."
"So why did you shoot him?"
"Because he decided to play me for a fool!" Murphy's demeanor flashed to irritation immediately, recalling the night's events.
Tannehill was confused. "What do you mean? What did he do to exacerbate any situation that would lead to his death?"
Murphy whined, irritation peaking. "When I came to see him about visiting this room, he wouldn't respond to any of my questions in a coherent fashion. He simply stopped cooperating and didn't have the decency to tell me why. He simply played the role of an idiot and made me look foolish as a result."
"So you grew angry and shot him?"
"Yes! He wasn't going to put one over on me in such a juvenile fashion. He could've simply told me he had a change of heart and we could've negotiated. Instead, he decided to act like a simpleton and pretend that he no idea what I was talking about."
Tannehill snorted derisively at this comment and glanced toward Otto, who was still trying to grasp the context around the confession. He regained his composure and continued. "Bellucci?"
"Well, Bellucci," Murphy grew pensive, "Bellucci just got a little too nervous. He did the honorable thing and took the fall for Snell. I promised him that I could arrange a lighter sentence for Snell's death - something along the lines of an accidental discharge of a firearm - and a larger cut of the goods for taking the fall, but he just got anxious. He started worrying that others would ask too many questions and piece everything together and that we'd both end up at the end of a hangman's noose. This after being an informant for the Capital City police department since prohibition. When have we ever been unable to adjust a crime to fit the civic good?"
"Not too often," Tannehill mumbled in reply.
"And yet," Murphy continued without breaking stride, "he still wondered aloud - aloud and in direct conversation with me - if it were better to come clean and take whatever retribution was due. So," he shrugged awkwardly, machine gun still in hand, in a what-can-you-do-but-strangle-someone-in-their-cell-and-blame-it-on-suicide type of gesture.
"That's the second time you've mentioned 'honor' and, in both cases, your confederates came away dead. Seems like there's not a whole lot of pay-off in an honorable agreement with you."
"Frankly, CH, I'm a bit insulted at such a slight, but I can't argue that you have point." He stepped back leveling the gun. Tannehill, who was in front of the others, including Vera, who'd exited the room to gather with the other hostages, stepped back a foot and motioned for those behind him to follow suit.
"A foot here or there isn't going to make a bit of difference, Tannehill. Hell, even your noble efforts to shield the others won't do much either. But, at least, we can both agree that, for once in your life, even if it's at the very end of it, you're doing something honorable."
"Oh, I agree nothing I'm doing will make much difference to your tommy gun," Tannehill continued backing his hapless group away from their would-be assassin inch by inch, "but it will give the sniper a much cleaner shot."
[Author's Note: Well, well, it looks like we may not be too far from wrapping this case up, in one blood-soaked fashion or another. Today's chapter is 1074 words. The novel continues to chug along at 51781 words.]
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