Chapter 18
They dragged Eugene’s inert body up the stairs to the empty loading room. Enough junk lay around to cover him up pretty well. Fortunately, the bleeding had stopped when his breathing did.
“Why the hell can’t folks take a s**t before they get kilt?” Horace said, pulling a face.
“It’s all just to spite you, Ace,” Frank said. “Here, help me see what all he’s got.”
In the dead man’s jacket they found ten more shells for the Browning. Number ten birdshot. He was an inside man, then. Not out. Buckshot or slugs would blow right through a wall or a body at close range. Birdshot would make a hell of a mess, but without any penetration.
Frank let Horace keep the shotgun. Their Steyrs had gone with Jack’s other help, so they had one gun, one knife, and no idea where they were going. A
