Page 90 of Nuts

“Yep. Took his cell phone when I kidnapped him. I put the battery in and send ‘em a message when I’m in different places, then take it back out. Keepin’ ‘em on their toes. Sent ‘em one from Albuquerque, New Mexico, and then from just outside of Mesa, Arizona. Couple a few weeks ago from Chula Vista in a shitty part of town. Sent ‘em one from outside a bar in the SD a week ago. Told ‘em he was chasing down a lead on a Savage who was running meth and pimping bitches.”

“You’re fucking nuts.”

“They think he’s nuts. Ought to see some of the messages they send back. Been pretty fucking entertaining.”

“Jesus Fuck, ‘Nut.”

He seemed to digest the entirety of it all for a few minutes. After he finished his beer, he sat on the bench beside me. “Get any good information out of him?”

“Just that he’s a shit hat. All he had was Meathead being a felon in possession of a firearm. After that, he was just trying to see who else he could set up on a crime. You were next on is list.”

“Tough believing a man who lies for a living. Those fuckers lie to whoever they’re setting up on a crime, and then when they get in court, they say, I was lying then, but I’m telling the truth now. Might not ever know what the real truth is.”

“Pretty sure I know the truth.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Poked a cucumber up his butt. Did a little water torture after I researched it. Put a couple rattlesnakes in there with him one day. Fucker’s scared to death of snakes, for what it’s worth. And scorpions. Tarantulas, too. Doubt he’ll ever eat a cucumber, either.”

“You poked a fucking cucumber up his butt?”

“Couple of ‘em.”

He chuckled. “And you said I was the weird fucker.”

“Least I know better than to disfigure the prick. Could have pulled his teeth, spooned out one of his eyes, or cut off his toes, but it’d look bad later.”

He spit out a laugh. “Spooned out an eye?”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re worried that’d look bad?” he asked, his tone sarcastic.

“Yep.”

“Bad how? Other than the fact someone spooned his eyes out.”

“It’d look like someone’s been torturing him. When I’m done with him, I want to make it look like a suicide or something. Get him all liquored up, and then toss his drunken ass off a bridge or push him in front of a big truck on the 5. If he was missing toes or teeth, they’d know something was up. Then, they’d come looking at our MC for it. If he gets drunk and steps in front of a truck full of avocadoes, nobody would be the wiser.”

“So, when did you become an expert on torture and such?”

“Been reading about it.”

“Did the terrorist torture manual give you the cucumber idea?”

“Nope. Came up with that one on my own.”

“Rattlesnakes?”

“That one was mine too. So was the tobacco sauce. And, the goat.”

“I’m not even going to ask.”

“Probably best you don’t.”

He tossed his empty beer in the trash, and got another. “Rotten bastard. I’ll volunteer to toss his ass off the bridge when the time comes.”

“When the time comes, I’ll let you know.”