"For some reason, I think of my mother whenever we finish making love," Mira says. Mint stands, stretches, ponders her statement. He can see it, she's never quite detached herself from her parent's expectations like a well-adjusted adult, after all. When they first started robbing banks she would always fall into melancholy for weeks after the job, pondering what they would think of the things she'd done. Unlike Mira, he feels no form of guilt about his actions as he knows that any illegal, immoral act he commits will only be followed by more of the same. For him, harboring guilt for acts he has no intention of ceasing is tantamount to insanity.
"Don't tell us something like that right after," Mandrake says. Mint jumps in the shower, watches the two of them through the transparent shower door before the steam obscures the image of their entwined bodies, a cigarette being passed between them.
"Hey I'm going to link up with Delray and flush out Michigan Mike," Mint says suddenly into the steamy air. He hadn't known he was going to speak, and now that he has he can't do anything else but think about what he'd said. Neither of them answer, but soon Mira is stepping into the shower with him.
"We'll all go," Mira says.
"You have a concussion, Mira, you're not doing it."
"I have to, Mint, it's my fault."
"Yeah well--you were only stealing back what Montana stole from us. I would've done the same thing if I'd not been in prison."
"I would have just killed him," Mandrake says from the other side of the shower door.
"No, you don't understand, Montana never stole our take. He never touched it."
"Peculiar, because that's the exact opposite of what you told us. Explain this a little more," Mint says, his stomach feeling unsteady. He shuts off the water and steps out of the shower. He shrugs on a robe and picks up his cigar case from the night stand. Whatever she is about to say will, he is sure, put things into perspective.
"You know I'm--skittish with violence."
"Since when? " Mandrake snorts.
"I know how I used to be, but lately it hall has become a bit, much. Seeing all the shit Montana's laid in his wake, I'm starting to develop a severe aversion to it all."
"I am thoroughly desensitized," Mint says, though this is not entirely true. He believes his heightened aggression, lack of squeamishness is an amplified expression of normal human anger and thirst for revenge. When someone wrongs him he has no issue doling out whatever sort of attack he see fit, up to and including murder....however...to his knowledge he'd never harmed an innocent man and his knowledge in this field is vast.
"Iceman!" Mandrake hisses.
"Listen, I couldn't just shoot him. I couldn't walk up and shoot him. I don't have the stomach. And I've got a clean record and I'll do anything to keep it that way. You both need me to stay that way. A murder charge is not an option. So I did the only thing I could think of."
"You obviously didn't kill him, so spit it out," Mandrake says.
"Mandrake, your razor sharp wit is always appreciated, but pipe down," Mira says. "I fed Montana sleeping pills and hired a guy to drive him to Mexico and shoot him in the head."
"Drive him to Mexico and shoot him in the head," Mandrake repeats.
"That's what she said," Mint says. His mind is racing, but he is calm when he addresses her.
"Who did you hire?" He asks. He finally lights his cigar, and tries to keep his mind completely blank as he knows this is the last moment of peace he will have. Whatever the name is, they're fucked. He can almost see the end, every detail fleshed out brilliantly by their many missteps.
"Mayven Mikowski."
"M&M." Mandrake says.
"You sent that shockingly astute psychopath and Montana is still alive? Doesn't sit well with me. Montana is a desperate coward which gives him a little bit of an edge, but he's still no match for Mikowski. There's got to be more to it, Mira. How did Mikowski say it happened?"
"He didn't. I haven't talked to him since all of this started."
"So, we going to see Mikowski?" Mandrake asks. He throws on his clothes and jingles the car keys in his hand, a man of action.
"Mira, I cannot express to you how much having that information days ago would have helped us. Why lie?" Mint asks.
"I didn't need to tell you...I didn't want to worry you...I thought I'd take care of it myself? One of those? A bit of all of them? Plus I tried to tell you a few times times. I figured it didn't matter in the scheme of things."
"Well if it matters nowhere else, Mira, it matters in this scheme of things. Not only have you robbed him, generally unprovoked, you tried to kill him. And just what part does he think me and my brother played in this little plot?"
