Chapter 4: Resignation Part 1

Henry Castle never intimidated anyone in his life. He was a weak, puny man who grew from a weak puny boy. On more than one occasion, a girl had beat him up in the schoolyard. Childhood had been a nightmare. But he excelled at math. He also learned the value of money at very young age, very young indeed. So he counted money, lots of it. And then he learned how to make it disappear.

Here stood this puny man, balding and pale, flaccid posture, not lacking so much in confidence as in simple physical ability. His back curved, seeming to cower, yet closer to a pounce. Cheap material formed his suit, spitshine leather formed his shoes. He was a loser to anyone watching and he knew it.

Heavy foot steps, quick and shouting, echoed as they neared. Steffi Mallimano was every bit as twitchy as his troublesome accountant. Due to this dilemma, Steffi hated Henry. He would have celebrated Henry's death a long time ago, but he was sent from a boss back east, straight out of New York City. Who knew? Maybe it was just some no neck goombah that carried a gun and signed a piece of paper for his jerk acting brother or something. Steffi couldn't figure out how someone like Henry ever got into the life.

Who trusted this bag of nerves with family business? All this pansy wants to do is bitch and moan. He gives attitude to my guys. An accountant, giving attitude to hired guns? Henry must pray a lot. He must pray more than he breathes.

And now there was this new trouble. Another problem from Henry. Another dead body. Another dead body of somebody known. And Henry wasn't. And that was Steffi's problem. So Steffi made some phone calls he should have made a long time ago.

Henry read Steffi's face as he walked down the corridor leaving the restaurant. Far more assurance resided in every part of his motion. He had gotten permission to do what he wanted. Henry never approached Steffi directly about his feelings for him but he guessed there was countless unspoken hatred.

Steffi was the type Henry loved to spar with when he could, never physically, but mentally. Henry would ask Steffi about his part of a score and question the numbers until Steffi was fuming with rage at having been ripped off so badly. Henry would slink away to his shadows to dabble at his computer, his curtain of Oz. Steffi was just a soldier. Henry hated to waste his time near him, feigning respect.
"Henry boy," Steffi cheered, "Did ya call the car?"
"Sure did," Henry answered. "Kid should be pulling it around any second."

Steffi still held his cell phone from a previous conversation. He put it inside his jacket pocket with this realization. Steffi was well dressed. His style pre dated his age. The suits he wore might have been trendy had he been younger. Instead they just looked like he borrowed his grandfather's suit. Those who knew Steffi would not argue this assumption.

Steffi pulled out a cigarette, then paused and looked around, bothered. "Do they go apeshit about smoking around this place?"
Henry didn't smile as he glanced around and nodded. "I would think so. It's a hospital. Lots of folks in and out that have trouble breathing."
Steffi stopped packing his cigarette and looked at Henry. This was why he hated him. He dropped his cigarette and smiled.
"No problem," Steffi shrugged. "What's another ten minutes?"

Steffi's brand new 84 Jeep Cherokee steered carefully around the lot and turned in their direction. It pulled up to a bumpy stop. A young man in a nursing outfit climbed out of the driver's seat and approached Henry holding Steffi's keys.
"Thanks for letting me drive her! That was great!" He beamed.
"No problem, Kid," Steffi answered, shooting a laser of death through his eyes. "He's generous like that."
The young nurse looked to both men, picked up the tension and kept moving. "Thank ya'll again, both of ya!" He turned and took his jog to a run.
"If Luke Duke had scratched my truck I'd blow your fucking head off right here." Steffi was angry. He spoke faster than he wanted to and stuttered his last words, "I f,f,fuckin' mean it!"
Henry looked solemn and shameful. Steffi waited for a smirk, giggle, any reaction to the stutter. After a minute, he tired of waiting. He threw his keys at Henry. "You drive, comedian. And if you scratch her at all I'll just shoot you and let us both fly off a fuckin' bridge or somethin'. I don't give a shit anymore."

Henry walked around the other side of the truck. Steffi opened the passenger door and climbed into the cab. "Fuckin' freak" Steffi muttered once both men were comfortably able to hear. Henry bristled, then turned the ignition. Steffi had a cigarette lit before they left the parking spot.