Grey: A Novella

Chapter 23

I entered the gun shop. It was quite a sad sight to see. There were stains on the floor from God knows what, the paint was chipping all over, and the guns on the rack looked like they hadn't been cleaned in a while. Brown lines of rust were visible on some of them.

The shopkeep was an old man with a grey mop for hair and a huge gut. Looked about right for this kinda place.

"What can I do you fer?"

I showed him my badge. I then took out the picture of the gun and slid it towards him. "Take a look at this."

"That's a Colt Detective Special."

"Anyone buy this gun in the last week?"

He paused and put a hand over his mouth. "No, sir, no one's bought it in quite a while."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, sir." His left eye twitched.

"You're not hiding something from me, are you?"

"Now why would you think that?"

"My sources at the police station said that a person bought this here Detective Special from your store about a week ago. You're not saying my sources are wrong, now are you?"

Another pause. I saw his brow start sweating. "I don't recall seeing anyone..."

I grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him towards me. "Listen, cut the crap. We both know you sold this to someone last week. Now who was it?"

"I-I don't know w-what you're talking about."

"Wrong answer." I slapped him twice across the face.

He started crying. "Please, mister, I don't want no trouble."

"Then tell the truth. I know you're lying. I could tell from a mile away."

"Okay, but please don't hurt me no more."

"You got it." I let him go.

He took a few seconds to compose himself. "There was a gentleman that came here and asked for it. He was in a real hurry to buy it. He seemed kinda unstable at the time, but his background checked out."

"He seemed unstable and yet you still let him buy a gun?"

"Hey, man, a customer is a customer."

"Of course. How come you were trying to hide this?"

"He told me specifically to say nothing to the cops about it. It's not a strange request in this area. Plus, I just don't trust the cops very much myself."

"You know that obstructing justice is a crime, right?"

"Yes, sir, I do. It don't make me trust them coppers any more."

"All right. How about you give me his name and we forget this whole thing ever happened?"

"I would like nothing better, sir. I have it here." He took out a large folder and started flipping through it. "Let's see. Ah, there it is. Spencer Webb. A tall white male. Looked about 30-35 years old."

"All right. Pleasure doing business with you."