Mickey - The View From Here - Gallavich

Frank Needs To Die : Part Two

When I got home, I headed to the kitchen to grab a beer and I found two of my brothers, Colin and Iggy. Perfect.

“You guys got any plans today?” I asked them as I fetched a can for myself from the fridge. I didn’t listen to Iggy’s response, I didn’t care. Closing the fridge, I said, “I need help killing somebody.”

“Someone we care about?” Colin wondered in his usual dazed tone of voice.

“No.”

“Knife, gun, or tire iron?” Iggy asked.

I took a sip of my beer, weighing my options. I wasn’t trying to go back to prison. “Gun’s safest.”

Colin shook his head. “Mmm,” he hummed in disagreement. “Not with today’s forensics.”

“Fine. A knife,” I conceded.

“That’s a lot of blood flow,” Colin informed Iggy and I. “One drop left behind, that’s life in the joint.”

This was why Colin was my favorite brother. He knew his shit. Did his knowledge about murder freak me out sometimes? Yes. But he was still my favorite.

“Why don’t you tell me, John Wayne Gacy?” I proposed with impatience.

They both stared at me before Iggy casually replied, “kidnap and strangle.”

“Perfect.”

We all made our way to the closet, our personal arsenal, for supplies. Just in case I needed it, I took a revolver and loaded it.

Our first destination was The Alibi, where Frank spent most of his time. I knew he would be there.

Colin and I walked into the bar, I did a quick scan and saw no sign of Frank.

“What’s happening, boys?” Kev greeted us from behind the bar.

Fear and adrenalin pumped through my veins. “You see Frank?”

“Frank who?” Kev replied, feigning obliviousness.

I didn’t have time for this shit. “Don’t give me ‘Frank fuckin’ who?’ How many people come in here named Frank?”

Lie to me again and I will shoot you, Kev. I'm gettin' pretty close to having nothing to lose.

Kev smiled at me and said, “hey, don’t get salty, sweetie.” He pointed to one of the bar patrons sitting at one of the tables behind me. “There’s Frank Stitson.”

I turned to find a man enjoying a sudoku puzzle with his beer.

“There’s Frank Salmon, who comes in on Thursdays,” Kev went on before motioning to the pool table. “And there’s Frank Migneault, playing pool right there.”

I contemplated shooting Kev in the head there and then. He knew exactly who I was talking about. “Frank Gallagher.”

“Check the Rusty Hammer,” Kev suggested. “They got happy hour breakfast 9 to 11.” He glanced at my brother before adding, “he’s a bargain drinker.”

Clenching my jaw, I considered this to be a possibility and led Colin back out of the bar.

Of course, there was no luck at the Rusty Hammer, so I drove us to the Gallagher house. Parking outside, I turned to my brothers and told them to stay in the car. I knew no one would tell me shit if I showed up with backup.

Fiona, Ian’s oldest sibling answered the door and gave me a disgusted look. “Ian isn’t home,” she told me, crossing her arms over her chest as a cold breeze passed over us.

“I’m looking for Frank,” I clarified.

“Not here,” she said, already closing the door on me.

“Know where he is?” I pressed.

“Nope.”

I slammed my hand on the door, shoving it open again. “Guess.”

Her large brown eyes studied my panicked, sweaty face. “The Alibi. He always ends up there.”

“Appreciate it,” I stated before I let go of the door and jogged back to the car.

Several hours later, we were parked in front of the bar where earlier, Kev had lied to my face. I smoked a cigarette, my eyes fixed on the entry/exit of The Alibi. I clicked my tongue, antsy as my wheels kept spinning. Frank had probably already told the entire bar. That was why Kev called me sweetie earlier. I was certain of it.

My thoughts had been spiraling all day. I was convinced that my dad would soon learn the truth from Frank himself. That would be the worst possible way for him to find out. Terry couldn’t know it was Ian. If he did, Ian was on the table for violence as well. The longer I thought about it, the more convinced I was that Terry would pretend he didn’t know, get my brothers to turn on me, then get them to kidnap the both of us. Terry would torture and humiliate us until he got bored. He would make me watch as he killed Ian, let me sit with it for a couple of hours tied up next to Ian’s corpse, then Terry would finally finish me off.

I wouldn’t let it happen.

“Why we killin’ him again?” Iggy asked from the passenger seat next to me.

Because of some of Terry's indiscretions, my brothers and I all viewed murdering rapists as justifiable. “He raped a girl.”

“Statutory or catch and release?” Colin inquired from the back seat as he nursed a forty.

Kev came out of the bar and began closing down for the night.

“Shit. He’s locking up. No Frank,” Colin observed.

I tossed my cigarette and started the car. “Shit.”