Sleight by Tom Twitchel

slowly I got close to the open door to his bedroom.
    His voice trembling, came to me in a weak whisper, “I’m hurting Benny. I hurt.”
    Holding my stunner and pointing in front of me I swung around the door frame of his bedroom. I quickly dropped my arm and re-holstered it. Breno was sitting on his rumpled bed, head bowed and his shoulders shaking as sobs wracked him. His hands were lying in his lap, cradled there like broken china, and covered with the same pair of yellow rubber gloves he’d been wearing the last time I’d seen him. My scalp tingled with apprehension as I entered the room.
    “Breno,” I said. “What’s going on? Where are you hurt?”
    Raising his head he looked at me from red-rimmed hollow eyes. His face was tear-stained. “I feel bad Benny. Mr. Goodturn is going to be mad and I cleaned the floor real good. But it’s not shiny enough. Not shiny. He’s sick because I made a accident isn’t he?” He looked down at his hands again.
    Sitting down next to him I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Breno, Mr. Goodturn being...sick has nothing to do with you.”
    Shaking his head, he drew his hands closer to his stomach. “I feel real bad Benny. I’m scared.” He snuffled.
    Speaking softly and slowly I said, “Breno, he’s getting better and the only person who should be feeling bad about him being sick is me. But he’s better and pretty soon he’ll be fine. Okay?”
    Breno’s head swung in my direction and the pain in his eyes and thoughts was so strong that it shook me. He gave me the slightest nod of his head and squeezed his eyes shut, as if to flush away the pain he was feeling.
    “When can I see him Benny? I think he needs the monkeys.”
    The skin on my arms raised in gooseflesh at the mention of the creepy three monkey clock. “Real soon.” I hoped that it was the truth. “What’s up with the monkeys Breno?” My palms felt sweaty when I asked, afraid of what secret might spill out next.
    “It’s his heart. He needs it,” Breno whispered, rocking slowly.
    His heart. His favorite memento from the ‘olden’ days. Me and my suspicious mind. Breno thought Mr. G needed his teddy bear.
    My heart twisted. I’d been sweating over all the garbage in front of me. Breno’s heartbreak made me realize something I should have been paying more attention to him. And others as well.
    It wasn’t all about me. The things that were happening affected all of us.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
THIRTEEN: A CRACK IN THE ARMOR
     
    AN HOUR LATER I was up in Mr. Goodturn’s suite in a spare bedroom watching Breno snoring loudly. Kenwoode had given him a mild sedative to help calm him down. He looked down at him, frowning with his arms crossed over his chest. His jacket and vest had been put aside while he had helped me get him into bed. His crisp white shirt sleeves had been rolled up to the elbow, revealing thickly muscled arms that surprised me.
    Breno’s face was relaxed and peaceful. It was the most normal I’d seen him since I’d found him at the pier. Rather than putting on his vest and jacket, Kenwoode picked them up and folded them over his arm. While he’d been tending to Breno I’d filled him in on One-Eye and his buddy Tank.
    Turning to me, he said, “I think having the two of you stay here is best based on what you’ve told me, but I don’t think Mr. Giacomo’s agitation will be allayed by seeing Harald in his current condition. Best to wait until the appropriate time.”
    I nodded, but I was already thinking about something else.
    “Mr. Kenwoode, what do you do?” I asked.
    Arching an eyebrow he said, “Pardon?”
    “What do you do. You know, work.” I said.
    “I’m retired.”
    Stifling a groan I pushed for more. “Yeah, but retired from what? What did you do before?”
    He patted at the sleeves of his coat, smoothing them out. “I was an independent contractor. I