Barely Legal

44

Donnie stepped out of the elevator and found the front door open. He was not surprised. If the guy was unconscious, there was no need to be careful. Nevertheless, he tapped his knuckles on the door frame to make sure the coast was clear.

There was no answer.

What the hell was Yvette doing?

He wandered through the apartment, made his way into the master bedroom, and stopped dead.

Yvette was spread out on the bed stark naked. Red blood ran down the side of her face. It made a stripe across her breast and ended in a small pool on the sheet.

The guy was stark naked, too, and clutching a gun. A murder-suicide? No, he was out, from the knockout drops. How did that compute? He realized he’d been doped and pulled a gun? But Yvette had called him, said the guy was out. Had he come to after that, just long enough to shoot her to death?

The whole thing was all a bad dream. She was dead, and the cops would be coming...

He had to get out of there, but he wasn’t going to leave empty-handed, not after everything he’d been through.

According to Yvette, Herbie kept his stuff in a walk-in closet opposite the bath.

Donnie poked his head into the master bath, which boasted a large Jacuzzi tub and a glassed shower with multiple sprays, then pushed his way through the double doors to the walk-in closet.

He was greeted by racks of expensive suits. Donnie had no use for suits, even if they weren’t hot. He needed things easily fenced for ready cash. Jewelry, that’s what Yvette had said. The guy had cuff links worth more than a car, several watches, and some rings.

Donnie had brought a messenger bag. He emptied the jewelry case into it and looked around for more. There was no reason to be circumspect. The long con was gone. What else did the guy have?

Donnie searched the closet. A metal petty cash box looked promising. Inside was a cash envelope, the type the bank issued, full of bills. He reached in, jerked them out. They were hundreds.

Jackpot.

Donnie shoved the money in his pocket and hurried to the front door. He listened before opening it a crack. There was no one there.

Stairs or elevator? What difference did it make? The doorman had seen him already. He’d seen him go in, now he’d see him go out. If they didn’t find the body for a while, they’d think it happened after he left. Hell, the pizza was gone, just a couple of crusts in the discarded box. It would look like they’d eaten long before it happened.

Donnie rode down in the elevator, breathing in and out, trying to calm himself.

Come on, method actor, you’re a pizza delivery boy. This is a piece of cake. What does a pizza delivery boy do? Oh, yeah. That’s right. He sorts his tip money.

Donnie jerked a roll of bills out of his pocket just as the elevator doors opened. He was halfway across the lobby before he noticed they were hundreds. Donnie hunched over, hiding the denominations from the doorman as he pretended to count his tips.