MURDER TAKES TIME

Chapter 73

Trapped

Current Day 

Tito passed out intermittently, but for the most part he stayed awake. I watched him squeeze his ass cheeks and wiggle, trying to get rid of that spike. As he struggled, I reminded him of his mistake. “You shouldn’t have done it, Tito. You should have left us alone.” 

He banged his head more and tried to cry out. I winced a few times, almost wishing I hadn’t done it. Almost. Despite my sudden squeamishness, I waited until the job was done, then pulled out the gun—the new one—and shot him once in the head and once in the heart. Afterwards I made the sign of the cross and repeated the words to the Trinitarian formula. 

I finished spreading the evidence. I put Tito’s old gun in his coat—after making sure I got his prints on it—then went upstairs and washed off. The odor from Tito stuck to me. I scrubbed hard, changed clothes, then, as I was putting things back in the bag, I heard cars coming to a fast stop. I ran to the window and peeked out. Three cars had the street blocked. Guys were getting out. 

Feds.

I ran to the back door, opened it, and raced across the yard, through a breezeway, then across another street. Two more cars were turning my way. A garage door in front of me was open. I ducked in and closed it. The yards were small and all connected to similar yards that also had garages, trees and bushes. I needed to get to the subway or to my car before they closed me off.

#

Harding jumped out of the car, screaming orders into a radio as he hit the street. “Front and back. Block all side streets. Form a perimeter.”

Harding had three agents with him. They burst through Johnny Muck’s door without knocking. Guns drawn, they cleared each room on the first level within thirty seconds. 

“Basement,” Harding said. Two agents opened the door and started down.

“Something’s here, sir.”

“Careful,” Harding said, but in less than half a minute, one of the agents called up.

“Got a body, sir. Good God, what a mess.”

“Call it in,” Harding said. “I’m going after him.” 

#

From the side door, I watched out the window. A car screamed by the street north of me, then stopped. 

Screw me. 

I looked around for something—anything—that would help. Three garages stood within a hundred feet or so, offering good places to duck into, and there were a lot of thick shrubs to hide behind. The Feds would secure the perimeter first, but once they got enough men they’d start checking house by house. I had to get out before they sealed the area. 

I looked at the bag and thought about what was in it—in case I was caught. 

Everything. The gun I’d shot Tito with, the tools, the clothes

The clothes. They’ll have my DNA. What to do? 

They had at least the four surrounding streets blocked, and they would check anyone leaving the area. Crowds were always the best way to escape, but I had no crowd. 

So how do I get one? 

I pushed myself to think in a new direction. What drew crowds? Fires. If anything got people out of their houses, it was fire trucks.