Nick Radicks double-parked his battered Buick Regal. He lit a cigarette and walked into the coffee shop, ignoring the No Smoking sign. Benny the Rat slithered into the booth across from him, glancing around nervously.
“Whaddya got?” Nick was cool as an icebox. He blew three perfectly formed smoke rings at the ceiling.
“Whaddya got for me?”
“A size eleven boot. I’ll put it up your ass.”
“Okay, okay.” Benny leaned forward. “Your stiff was connected. Word is he made some people mad, so they set him up for a big fall.”
“So he’s connected. Why didn’t his guys fix it?”
“Dunno. He hooked up with a guy named King. Heavy hitter, but unfortunately for the stiff it came down from on high. When it started to go down, King and his guys couldn’t do anything to put it back together.”
Nick dropped his cigarette in his coffee. He pulled out his wallet and peeled off two twenties.
“Got a name?”
Benny snatched the bills.
“Dumpty. Didn’t get the first name.”