Frank Zafiro - Some Degree of Murder

TOWER

The door slammed shut and for a brief moment, I was engulfed in darkness.

After a second or two, my eyes readjusted to the low light in the room. I stared at Rowdy’s still form on the floor and the growing slick of dark blood spreading outward from what remained of his head.

I raised my gun and fired three quick shots at the door. I aimed for the doorjamb just to the right of the door. The bullets bit into the drywall and two by fours with a thud as the muzzle flashed in my hand.

When the echo of the shots died away, I stood still for a long moment, looking at the door through the tendrils of smoke, which rose from the barrel of my gun. The sulfuric odor of gunpowder mixed with the coppery smell of blood and filled the air.

I took several deep breaths, trying to think and not wanting to think, all at the same time.

You screwed up, John.

I sniffed at the smell that hung heavily in the air.

You killed him, as sure as if you pulled the trigger.

I cleared my throat and that sound in the still air startled me. I slid my Glock back into the holster. I walked over to the door and pushed the crash bar, swinging the door open into the sunlight. Virgil’s gun lay on the dirt path near the back door. I left it there.

I stepped back into the building and hurried toward the small room where Rowdy had tied up the girl. As I passed Hiero’s gun on the floor, I snatched it up and put it in the small of my back, covered by my sport coat. Inside the room, the degrading pose and the brutality of the object inside her sent a shot of rage through my belly.

I pulled the grotesque green piece of plastic from her and set it on the bed, resisting the urge to hurl it against the wall. An open folding knife with a blackened tip lay on the ground near the shattered boom box. I used it to cut the girl free. Her legs sprung downward as soon as I cut the rope and she flopped loosely onto her side.

My fingers found her carotid artery and I was almost immediately rewarded with a faint, lethargic heartbeat.

She was alive.

I removed my jacket and covered with it. A little of it was for warmth. The rest was for dignity.

A small moan escaped her lips.

“I’ll be right back,” I whispered to her, even though she probably couldn’t hear me.

I wanted to take her to my car and keep her there until medics arrived. But I couldn’t turn my car into a crime scene. The weight in the small of my back told me that.

I was desperate to comfort the girl and call her by name, but I remembered she hadn’t told me that night I saw her on Sprague and she’d been so angry about her dead brother. I settled for stroking her shoulder twice through my jacket, before turning and walking as fast as I could out of the room.

As I left the building the brisk air of April hit me like an icy wall. I realized how much I had been sweating when cold bit into me at my underarms, chest and neck. I could even feel the cold air on my legs through my slacks as I trotted toward my car and unlocked the door. Once I started the car, I reached across the passenger seat and opened the glove box. I put Hiero’s gun inside and slammed it shut.

Up the block, I could see the first curious heads poking out of windows. A pair of pedestrians came around the corner and stared up the street. Things were in motion. The show was about to start.

I took a deep breath and reached for the radio mike.

VIRGIL

It took me fifteen minutes to get to The Hole after leaving Tower and Rowdy. I ran through the rundown neighborhood that survives to the north side of Sprague, eventually slowing down to a slight jog and then a walk. I pulled off my gloves and shoved them into a pocket. With a pair of shaky hands, I fired up a Camel and inhaled deeply into my lungs which already burned from the run and the brisk April air. I coughed several times before tossing the cigarette into the street and cursing myself.

As I walked, I heard several sirens in the area but none of them zoomed down any of the back streets I took. I knew all of them were running to the aid of Tower.

Once inside The Hole, the smell of stale beer and desperation greeted me like a comfortable old shoe. I ambled over to the bar and dropped onto a torn up stool. The bartender waddled over to me and put his arms on the marred counter in front of me. His enormous stomach struggled against the Seattle Seahawks shirt he wore.

“What’ll it be, pal?” he asked with a husky voice.

I suddenly felt weary and just wanted to lay down and fall asleep. You got any Jack Daniels?” I finally asked

He nodded his meaty head.

From a pocket, I pulled out a ten dollar bill and laid it on the counter.

While the bartender made my drink, I stepped over to the phone booth in the back corner. I pushed some quarters into the machine and punched a few buttons. Andie picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?” she asked, her voice soft and unaware.

I held the phone to my ear for a moment before saying softly, “It’s over.”

Before she could answer, I hung up. I then dug out my pre-paid phone card, hit some more buttons and was greeted by a thick voice announcing, “Bobo’s House of Chicken.”

“Jay, it’s me.”

“What up, my man?” His voice had a sense of lightheartedness that seemed out of place in my world.

“Tell him that my work up here is finished. I’ll be leaving as soon as I can.”

The playfulness in his voice faded away and he turned serious. “Want me to have him call you? I know he’s been worried about you.”

“No. Just pass that message.”

“You got it.”

I hung the phone up and returned to the bar. My Jack and Coke sat on the counter next to the change for my ten. With a single pull, I finished the drink and winced as the cold liquid played havoc with my broken teeth. When the pain subsided, I waved at the bartender for another. He shrugged and nodded at the same time. I wasn’t sure what the hell that meant so I let it slide.

When the fat man brought the drink over, I said, “Call River City Taxi and ask for Axel.”

He nodded and shuffled off to the phone behind the bar. I grabbed my drink and walked over to a booth and settled in.

Ten minutes later, I had my head leaned back on the booth when the door swung open and I heard a cane tap on the floor. I lifted my head. Rolo walked over to me with Rhonda close behind. Rolo was in a bright red jacket that fell to his knees. Even though the color was wrong, the puffy jacket still had the Raiders logo on the front. Rhonda was in a short, black leather jacket and a shorter black dress.

“Get me a drink, baby,” Rolo said before he fell in to the booth across from me.

Rhonda clicked her high heels over to the bar and leaned both of her arms on the dented brass rail that ran its length. Her ass stuck out highlighting her best feature for any takers.

“How’s business?” I asked.

He scrunched up his face for a moment before answering. “The same. Times is tight, but I manage. I’ll roll with the punches until I get my opportunity to punch back.”

“I think it’s going to improve real soon.”

His eyes widened and he leaned in over the table. “No shit?”

Through the front window of the bar, I saw a white River City Taxi pull up. I shifted my gaze back to Rolo and stood up. “I think the whole market is gonna break open for you today.”

Rolo laughed and slapped the table. When I turned toward the door Rhonda was standing next to me with a couple of drinks in her hands. “Hey, there,” she said with a smile. “What’s so funny?”