Alan Petrillo - Asylum Lane

Lund stepped back so he wasn’t so close to the Dealer. “Why safe yet unnoticed investments, I should think.”

The Dealer smiled and spread his palms outward. “Mr. Lund, I am unaware of what you had in mind here tonight, but I can tell you that I am sorely disappointed in you. I have a strong suspicion that you have something nefarious in mind for me.”

“N – n – nefarious? Me? That is absurd.”

“Absurd it may be and yet I think you have something else in mind other than more investments.” The Dealer looked left and right before continuing. “Let’s set this straight, eh. In terms of the commissions that I was going to charge you on the prior purchases, consider them wiped out.”

“You mean that, sir/” Lund said, grabbing a handful of the Dealer’s coat. “Really?”

The Dealer pulled Lund’s fingers from around the folds of his coat. “Yes, I mean what I say. I have now applied a second commission in place of the first, this one double the first. The commission is due in a week.”

“But that is a huge amount of money to pay for your services.”

The Dealer smiled. “Nevertheless, it is what you shall pay in order to have my protection. I expect to hear from you within the week, Mr. Lund.”

With that the Dealer turned and disappeared around the corner of the building.

When Lund peered around the corner, he saw the Dealer fading into the darkness of the lane to Haxby Road.

Round Freddy stopped pacing as a stout constable with a shock of red hair sticking out from under his cap skidded to a halt in front of him. The man wiped a ribbon of sweat from his brow and saluted.

“No need for that right now, Collins. What is it?”

“There’s a man out on Dudley Street who says he lives here in number three. Wants to get into his house.”

“The man’s name?”

“Says it’s Snow, sir.”

“Bring him along.”

When the constable herded Snow in front of Round Freddy, the man stood looking from the detective to the door of his house and back.

“Mr. Snow, I shall require your attention on me. I have questions for you.”

“Snow. It’s only Snow.”

“Very well, then. Snow. Are you acquainted with a Mr. Fletcher?”

Snow rubbed his chin and knitted his brows as if in thought. “Well, I knows a Fletcher, and he’s a man, so I suppose we could call him mister.”

“I assume that is a ‘yes?””

Snow bobbed his head.

“Do you have any idea why he might want to hold your mum hostage in your house?”

Snow started toward the house door, but Round Freddy put out a thick arm and restrained him.

“Fletcher’s a madman,” Snow blurted. “He killed that woman and now he’ll kill me mum.”

Round Freddy grabbed Snow’s shoulders and shook him until he looked him in the eye.

“We will not let any harm come to your mum. But you must tell me what you know about Fletcher and the woman he killed.”

Snow hung his head and tears tracked down his cheeks. “I told him I didn’t want to hurt anybody.”

Round Freddy took Snow’s elbow and led him to a corner of the courtyard where they talked quietly for several minutes. When they returned to the center of the courtyard, Round Freddy motioned to the two constables with the revolvers.

“I would like you to accompany me and Snow into the building where he will attempt to convince Mr. Fletcher to release his mum. Are you willing to volunteer to do so?”

Both agreed.

“Right. Let’s go then.”

Inside, standing at the side of the door, Round Freddy cleared his throat and raised his voice. “Mr. Fletcher. I have someone with me who would like a word with you. He will speak to you now.”

Round Freddy nodded to Snow.

“Fletcher, it’s me, Snow.” He waited, but there was no response. “Fletcher, you have me mum in there with you. You don’t need her and I don’t want her in there. Let her go.”

Round Freddy thought the ensuing silence meant that Fletcher would not consider the approach, but then he heard the man responding.

“Snow, is that really ye out there?”

“Aye, Fletcher, it is me.”

“Snow, it pains me to have your mum in here with me and with the coppers out there, but that is the way it has turned out.”

Snow drew a deep breath. “The coppers tell me that if ye let me mum go, they won’t break through the door while she’s coming out. They say that letting me mum out is good will for you.”

There was another lengthy silence and Round Freddy nodded to Snow to show his encouragement of what he had done. Just as Round Freddy thought that Fletcher was going to refuse the offer, Fletcher called out.

“Snow. Ye’ve been a good partner to work with. I has no business with your mum. I’ll let her out the back.”

Round Freddy interrupted quickly. “Mr. Fletcher, please give us a few moments to alert the constables in the rear that Snow’s mum is to be released. We do not want any mishaps to occur, do we?”

“Mishaps is me middle name, copper. But I’ll wait on ye.”

Round Freddy detailed a constable to advise Sergeant Wills at the back of the house of the situation, and as soon as he had gone, called out to Fletcher again.

“Mr. Fletcher, you are not planning to do anything foolish with that double when the door is opened, are you?”

He could hear Fletcher’s laugh through the door. “Worried about me, are ye? Don’t worry. I shall let the woman go.”

Within three minutes a constable returned from the rear of the house and said that Snow’s mother had been released unharmed and that the back door had been bolted again. Round Freddy again approached the door.

“Mr. Fletcher, we thank you for your consideration in releasing Snow’s mum. Now we must speak about how we can resolve this situation. I think the best thing that you can do for yourself is to lay down that double gun, unbolt the two doors, and come out with your hands raised.”

Round Freddy heard the loud laugh first and then the growl.

“Ye have Snow’s mum so she will not be on me conscience. But ye shall not have me. At least not while I’m breathing.”

Round Freddy heaved a sigh and turned back toward the courtyard. The days were getting longer and longer.

Night had fallen and Round Freddy still had not coaxed Fletcher out of Snow’s back room. The detective had spent the better part of the day talking to a wooden door and listening to Fletcher’s taunting responses from the other side. At one point, mental fatigue took hold and Round Freddy was on the brink of ordering the criminal burned out of the house. But before he could get the words to shift from his brain to his mouth, he pushed the urge back down and willed it to go away and not return.

Needing a breath of air, he stepped into the small courtyard and joined a group of constables jawboning in a corner. Someone from the police station had brought apple cider for the men to drink, and they stood there, holding Army-issue tin cups of cider, looking expectantly at him. Sergeant Wills, who apparently was taking a break from his duties at the rear of the house, raised his eyebrows and asked, “What news, sir? What’s our next move?”

Round Freddy accepted a cup of cider from a young constable and raised the tin cup to the men. “Cheers,” he said, and downed a large gulp of the sweet liquid. He smacked his lips and smiled. “Bigod, you men know how to live on the job, and here’s to you.” He raised the cup and drank again. When he lowered the cup, he caught the sergeant’s eye and nodded toward the opposite corner.

When they were away from the other constables, Round Freddy leaned close to Wills, his voice hardly above a loud whisper.