But suddenly, the crowd pulled away. The bouncer slowed his swinging, then dropped me to the ground and took a couple of steps back.

“Is there a problem here?” said a voice that sounded strangely familiar.

I looked up. A figure stood over me. It was a tall guy with sandy brown hair. He had a solid build and a neck like a rhino.

It was my old friend, Bully Malone.

Chapter 12

I STARED AT BULLY MALONE. Bully Malone stared back at me. At least here was one mystery solved―my gunwork outside that Girl Scout hall had been more effective than I’d given myself credit for. It looked like I’d taken Bully out for good. Not that it helped me much now.

“I asked if there was a problem here,” Bully repeated. He spoke softly but his voice was hard, like a satin veil on a pile driver.

“No problem here, Mr Malone,” the bouncer said. “Just trying to keep undesirables out of the club.”

“Well, it just so happens that this particular undesirable is with me,” said Bully. “So are you going to let us both in, or do I have to get you to do a little dance first?” He took out a gun and pointed it at the bouncer’s feet.

“Right away, Mr Malone, come this way.” The bouncer stepped away, ushering Bully towards the door like a game show hostess pointing to a new car. I felt Bully’s powerful hand come down on my shoulder, and before I knew it, I was lifted up and pulled through the door into the darkness of the club.

The room was small but crowded. All heads turned towards us as we entered, and all conversation suddenly ceased. Even the band stopped playing and promptly left the stage. In the short time since his death, Bully had clearly wasted no time making himself known to the residents of Hell.

Bully dragged me along a hastily cleared path towards a table in the back corner of the club. He made a small movement with his gun, and the couple who were seated at the table quickly stood up and disappeared into the crowd.

“Just my luck. One table free,” said Bully. “Why don’t you take a seat and we can have a friendly little discussion?” He pointed towards one of the recently vacated chairs with his gun. It looked like this discussion was going to be as friendly as a pre-dinner chat between a goldfish and a piranha.

I sat down. I can’t say I was thrilled at the idea of spending the evening with the man who had murdered me, and whom I had, in return, dispatched to Hell. But it didn’t look like I had much of a choice. If there was going to be a discussion, I decided it would be better if I set the agenda.

“Okay, Bully, I know what you’re thinking,” I said. “But try to look at it from my point of view. I had a job to do. It wasn’t a job I particularly wanted, but a fellow in my position can’t afford to be choosy. So when I suddenly see you coming out of that Girl Scout hall with a semi-automatic pointed at my forehead, what else was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to shoot you, Bully, but you didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“Don’t think you can talk your way out of this one, Clarenden,” snarled Bully. “I don’t care what you say. You killed me. You, a lousy little nobody, killed me, the meanest, toughest hit man in town. I don’t like that, Clarenden. It’s not good for my image. So what do you think I should do about it?” As he spoke, he slowly lifted the gun until it was pointing at my chest.

“What difference does it make what you do about it,” I snapped back. “It isn’t going to make you any less dead, is it.”

“Maybe not, but it will make me feel a whole lot better.” Bully raised the gun further, so it was now pointing at my face. “So let’s hear you talk. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow you to—”

“What are you going to do, kill me a little bit more?” I interjected. Bully looked at me blankly, his mouth wide open as if he hoped to catch a fish in it. Emboldened by his obvious confusion, I kept talking. “We’ve reached the end of the line, you and me. There’s nowhere left for you to blow me.”

Bully still looked puzzled, but he lowered the gun. “Okay, you got me there. But let me tell you, I can still make Hell a pretty unpleasant place for you.”

“And here I was thinking Hell was one big fun park. In the last half hour I’ve been ripped off, I’ve been robbed, I’ve been drenched, and I’ve been swung like a pendulum until I thought my brains were going to slide out my ears. If you really think you can give me a worse time than the one I’m already having, I’d like to see you try.”

If Bully had looked confused before, his face now moved past nonplussed and settled at utterly bewildered. “Listen, small guy,” he shouted. “You’re pushing your luck. Nobody talks to me like that. I’m Bully Malone.”

“Sorry, but I’m going to have to correct you. You used to be Bully Malone, but now you’re just another dead guy.” I paused for a moment, hoping that some of this might actually sink in, but when his face didn’t move, I kept going anyway. “You may think you’re the big man and I’m the little man, but when it comes down to it, we’re really not that different. We were both small wheels in a big machine. We worked because we had to, and sometimes we killed because we had to. But when we got taken out, the machine didn’t stop moving.”

Bully continued to stare uncomprehendingly. Then, suddenly, his face broke into a grin. “I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, but I have to admit you’ve got guts. There’s not too many guys that could kill Bully Malone and then look him in the eye afterwards.” Then his expression hardened again. “But you gotta understand, I can’t just let this slide. I got my image to consider. I gotta get my respect back.”

“Seems to me you don’t have too much of an image problem. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, your image is better than it’s ever been.”

“What are you talking about?” Bully’s brow wrinkled as his brain struggled to make sense of what I was saying. Given it had never had much of a workout while he’d been alive, it was a big ask to expect it to start functioning now.

“Look at it this way,” I said. “You may think you got respect while you were alive, but was that really the case? Did people respect you for who you were and what you did, or was it all due to the Bostino family?”

“What have the Bostinos got to do with this?”

“Quite a lot, Bully. As long as you worked for them, you could never be sure if the respect you got was all due to that association. But now that you’re on your own, there’s no doubt. The respect you’re getting is for you and you alone. But don’t just take my word for it. Have a look at these people. They’re absolutely terrified of you.”

I’ll never know if Bully really understood what I was saying, but in some way it seemed to satisfy him. “Yeah,” he said. “They are terrified of me.” He pointed his gun at a gentleman sitting at a table beside us. “Hey you, give me a handstand,” he demanded.

“Right away, Mr Malone, sir,” the man squeaked. He stood up and then crouched down on the ground, attempting to support himself on his shaky hands. He swayed unsteadily for a couple of seconds before collapsing into the crowd, sending drinks flying.

Bully roared with laughter. “Maybe you’re right, Clarenden. Maybe I don’t have to take you out after all.”

“Call me Jimmy,” I said. “And don’t forget you’ve already taken me out once. Don’t you think that’s enough?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Getting killed by you isn’t so bad after all. I still got my respect, plus I haven’t got any of those crazy Bostinos to worry about.” Bully shook his head. “I tell you, Jimmy, I’m not going to miss the Bostinos. Complete whack jobs, every last one. Did you ever meet them?”

“Never had the pleasure, Bully. They had a gang of trained assassins to ensure that nobody except their closest advisors ever got close to them.”