The Widower Murders

Chapter 21 - What was Done

Red.

Peter sat at the light behind Mrs. Fletcher's Escalade, waiting for a break in traffic so that they could turn from westbound South Huron River Drive onto northbound South Huron Street.  Pleased with how their meeting had gone, he was now on his way to personally deliver his resignation to city hall.  Something he had dreamth of doing for years.  Adrian learning of his involvement with the Lake in the Woods deal was the single reason why he hadn't.  Never knowing whether a nosy co-worker or his successor would figure out the bid rigging scheme he'd facilitated, he'd spent the past twenty years covering his tracks.

Peter peered to his right.  As always the Circle K convenience store was just as busy as the adjacent shopping centre he and Ethan had envisioned, the one in the coming days he would put up for sale as he sought to liquidate a number of underperforming assets.  Seemed since the Wall Street Balloon Mortgages scam had devastated the Ypsilanti housing market, commercial properties hadn't exactly rebound according to speculated projections.  A fact Ethan had argued in time would cause them to lose more money than the site was actually worth.

Green.

"Finally.  Geez," Peter murmured.  In front and having the right-of-way, the SUV turned with him and an old brown and beige Cutless Supreme trailing in tow.  A rust bucket Peter called it.  Driven by Steven, Peter couldn't help but to wonder on what was the attorney spending his money.  Certainly not transportation, the self-promoted business owner snickered.  Hell, to make matters worse, before leaving the park the beat-up jalopy had to be jumpstarted because its battery had died.  Quite naturally, to be frugal with ones earnings Peter felt within reason was commendable.  However, to deny yourself better when clearly you could afford it, he thought was equally and contrarily shameful.

Red.

Coming to a stop at yet another traffic light and as the Escalade signalled and sped up in order to get onto westbound I-94, Peter switched lanes. Already running late for an unscheduled appointment, Mrs. Fletcher had asked him to be a sweetheart and drop a briefcase off to Jayne.  Somehow the secretary had left the case behind at a company conference earlier in the day.  As a result of their meeting having gone much better than expected, Peter had no problem fulfilling the personal favour, especially if it meant maintaining a cordial relationship with at least one Price Investments board member.

Green.

Peter pressed the accelerator and the Spark bolted forward.  With Buffalo Wild Wings passing on his left, suddenly he desired to invite a few friends out to lunch for a celebration.  Drinks and all you can eat on me, Peter smiled, daydreaming about walking into City Hall and uttering the words that would make this the long remembered best day of his life.  "Mayor.  I quit!"

Bdddat-bdddat-bdddat!

The triple round burst from a Beryl Polish assault rifle tore through the Chevrolet Spark.  A masked man in a two-tone Cutless Supreme pulled up and riveted the vehicle in a fury of gunfire.  Bdddat-bdddat-bdddat!  Most of the weapons thirty-two shells found their intended target, slumping the unsuspected driver behind the wheel.

Breathe.

Breathe, Peter told himself as he watched the taillights of the brown and beige rust bucket veer onto eastbound I-94, his hearing, vision, arms and lower extremities failing.

Breathe.

As death became imminent, Peter could not fathom why an attorney with Price Investments would want to kill him.

Breathe.

Boom!

Scrrrrrrrrrrrr!

The vehicle flipped and came to a rest on its roof. 

Peter took one last gasp and attempted to exhale.  His final thoughts ending with,  Why can I not…breathe.