Some Degree of Murder

Wednesday, April 21 st 1414 hrs 1612 East Wales

TOWER

I recognized the place as soon as I turned onto Wales. Years ago, it had been cheap office space that housed shady loan companies and then telephone solicitors. Eventually even those dregs left and the offices have stood empty ever since. Patrol routinely rousted transients out of there in the winter time.

Cruising slowly up the street toward the building, I saw a motorcycle parked almost a block away in the dirt at the edge of the street. I could feel adrenaline coursing through my body, so I took a slow deep breath and pulled over.

I turned off the engine and trudged carefully toward the office. As I sidled up to the corner of the building, I saw a white van parked in the alley behind the office.

I could hear the strains of manic electric guitar coming from inside the building. Over the top the music came the sound of a male voice yelling. It wasn’t the sounds of fighting. Instead, it sounded triumphant and excited.

I slipped my Glock from my shoulder holster. Fawn’s face flashed in my mind and when I pushed it away, it was replaced with Serena’s.

I ducked beneath the window even though it had some boards over the top of it and approached the front door. I held my Glock at the low ready position, pointed at the ground about ten yards in front of me.

The front door stood open about an inch. The sound of heavy metal poured through the crack and the male voice was even louder. I heard the word “slut” fly out at me.

“I want to fuck you like an animal!”

With my left hand, I eased the door open. I kept my gun trained on the interior of the room as it became exposed to me. The small reception area was empty except for some trash and a small pile of smashed dry-wall. The smell of human waste hung in the air.

I felt my heart pounding in my temples as I shuffled through the room and several beyond until I reached a small hallway. The narrow passage was darker than the reception area, but the smells were stronger and the music was louder.

I took a deep breath through my mouth and took slow steps down the hallway.

The music abruptly stopped with a crash.

I dropped into a squat and peered down the hallway into the large room beyond. A moment later, Rowdy appeared from a small office inside the large room. A large, barrel-chested man had him by the hair and once they were free of the office, he pushed Rowdy forward toward the back of the room. He looked like Sammy the Bull.

Virgil Kelley.

Rowdy didn’t move for several moments and neither did I. I could hear Virgil’s breathing and watched as he fingered his pistol. It was a Glock, same as mine.

“C’mon, you fuck, wake up,” I heard him mutter.

Rowdy stirred.

“Up on your fucking knees,” Virgil told him.

Rowdy rose to his knees, wavering.

Virgil thrust his gun into his face. He held something else in his other hand.

“Remember her?” he said in a gravelly tone.

I crept down the hallway, staying almost completely in a squatted position.

“Remember her?” Virgil asked him again.

He is going to smoke him, I realized. Right here, right now.

I reached the end of the hallway and button-hooked around the threshold. Looking around, I could see no cover and no concealment.

“Nope,” Rowdy said. Even in that one word, I could hear that he wasn’t right. Whether it was drunk or high, he was messed up.

“You killed her.” Virgil pushed the muzzle of the gun into Rowdy’s face for emphasis.

“Oh, her,” Rowdy mumbled.

That was it? Oh, her? In that moment, I wished a thousand deaths for Rowdy. Violent, painful ones.

“That was my daughter,” Virgil growled. He slipped something into his pocket and jammed the gun into Rowdy’s face, toppling him to the ground. Virgil’s shoulders tensed and he leaned forward almost imperceptibly.

“Drop the gun!” I shouted.

Virgil stiffened.

“Drop that fucking gun!”

Virgil turned his head and looked toward me over his shoulder. His face was bruised and a bandage covered his cheek. The muzzle of his gun never left Rowdy. Even from across the room, I could see the cold glint in his eye.

“Or what?” Virgil said.