Hunted - 1

Logan looked around the small attic room and decided he could make it work. It wasn’t as if he really had much choice in the matter at the moment. His funds were almost depleted, and—since he’d just arrived in the city just two days before—he had yet to find a job.

He turned to the landlady, who was watching him in question. “Would there be a problem if I got one of those small fridges to put in here?” he asked.

“You are allowed to share the kitchen with the other tenants,” she pointed out. “But I suppose that would be all right. No hotplate though. They’re too dangerous.”

“I understand completely.” Logan gave the area one more look and then said, “I’ll take it.”

Half an hour later he deposited his two bags on the low platform at one side of the room and muttered, “Home sweet home.”

The first order of business was to hit up the thrift store he’d seen a couple of blocks from the house. He made a mental list of what he needed---a mattress, a small table with a couple of chairs, a set of shelves—and hoped he had enough to cover that as well as sheets and towels. The refrigerator and a microwave oven could come later when he had a job, unless…

Logan looked out the small window at one end of the room with a nod. It was almost dark and in this area of the city there was a chance he could find some of what he needed for free if he checked out the alleys.

“Being broke sucks,” he muttered as he opened one of the bags to take out a pair of jeans and a dark blue hoodie. The rest of his clothes would have to stay in the bags until he found something to use to hang them on.

He took off his slacks and button-down shirt, carefully folded them, laid them on top of the other bag and put on the jeans and hoodie as well as a T-shirt. Then he left the attic room via the narrow flight of stairs that led to the second floor hall. As he made his way from there down to the first floor he heard voices coming from the community living room. The last thing he wanted right now was to have to introduce himself to the other people who lived there, so he quickly hurried past the archway to the front door and moments later was on the sidewalk outside the house. He turned right, walked to the end of the block, then right again until he reached the alley.

It took two hours to search several alleys in the neighborhood but in the end he had a small, battered table and two mismatched chairs to show for his efforts—which he had taken back to the house in stages, leaving them in the backyard for the time being.

A quick check of the time told him he could make it to the thrift shop before it closed, if he hurried. He got there with minutes to spare. The clerk looked as if she wanted to tell him he was too late, but when he told her all he needed was a mattress, if they had some, she led him to the back of the store. He chose what looked like the best of the three single mattresses, wrestled it down the cluttered aisles to the front counter then asked if she had sheets to fit it, as well as some towels. She did and after he made his selection he paid for his purchases and waited while she bagged up the linens.

“Is your car out front?” she asked when he was ready to leave.

“No car,” he said succinctly.

“You’re going to carry the mattress?”

“No choice. I have to.”

“I could call a cab for you. I’ve seen big ones that could hold it, I think.”

Logan debated for a moment then nodded. “Thanks. I’ll put this outside though so you can close up.” He maneuvered the mattress out the door then, after he checked to be certain she was on the phone and not watching him, he took it to the alley next to the shop. Seconds later he and the mattress were in his attic room.  

Walt Murphy – Part Two – 50

Now Ricky is usually a bit restrained, being an accountant and all.

Okay, strike that. Restraint is not his thing, especially when he thinks I might have been hurt as part of the job I do.

I heard the front door open about half an hour after Tom had left. Yeah, I was still a bit jumpy from all that had gone down, so I was on my feet, ready to defend myself if necessary. It was, but only from Ricky as he practically bowled me over, hugging and kissing me as if we'd been apart for a month, not half a day.  

He finished his attack by stepping back, gripping my arms while he looked me over with a critical eye. "Two arms, two legs, one body, one head, no obvious damage except"—he lightly touched the bandages on my throat. "You made it through in one piece. I'm proud of you. Now…tell me again what the hell were you thinking when you set that up?"

"I missed you too," I said when I could finally get a word in edgewise.

He sagged against me, heaving a deep sigh. "It's over. Right?"

"Yep. Over and done and we can get back to our normal lives." Of course I didn't mention things like trials and the possibility that, with a good lawyer, there was always the chance at least Carlo might get off with a light sentence or probation. Ben? He'd probably end up in the pen, or in a psyche ward, depending on how his lawyer played it. No sense it telling Ricky that. He'd figure it out in time. He is a smart man. For now, well as I told him, it was time to move on.

He looked up at me and gave me that wicked grin that meant he was about to proposition me. "I suggest we start by heading straight upstairs to celebrate 'normal'."

I wasn't going to argue over that idea—so we did. Then we went out for lunch at our favorite restaurant, came home and celebrated again. After all, it's Sunday. What else would two red-blooded men do who have no interest in professional sports on TV? Screw each others brains out. Right? 

The End

Walt Murphy – Part Two – 49

With a bit of effort, I was able to get my cuffed hands in front of me. Then, before calling the cops, I collected the gun and the knife, unlocked the car trunk, and disposed of them there.

As it turned out, I didn't have to call 911. The cop that Tom had assigned to watch me showed up, gun drawn, just as I wrestled my phone out of my pocket.

He took one look at the Donatis, shaking his head. "And Detective Sharp thought you might need my help why?" Then he apologized for not getting here sooner. "After sitting at the restaurant for ten minutes I figured maybe something had happened, so I beat it over here."

"Just in time to help with the clean-up," I said dryly. "Think you can find the keys to these?" I held out my hands. "Maybe in his pocket?" I nodded toward Ben.

He did, freed me, and then used them to cuff Ben, before putting his own pair on Carlo's wrists. Finally, he called in for a pick up and an ambulance. The ambulance showed up first, of course. I got checked out by one of the EMTs who said there was more blood than real damage from the cuts on my throat. He cleaned them, slapped on couple of bandages, and then went to check on Carlo, while his partner was dealing with Ben's broken nose and what turned out to be a cracked jaw.

Tom showed up by the time the EMTs were ready to transport Carlo and Ben to the hospital. After he collected their weapons from my car trunk and bagged them, we went into the house where he sat me down and made me give him a blow-by-blow of what had happened, while he took notes.

    

I finished up by saying, "The only thing Ben didn't do was admit to the murders."

"Unfortunate, but not too surprising. We have the knife though, and my bet is we'll be able to prove it was the one he used on the women."

"You know, I almost feel sorry for Carlo. Despite everything, he did his best to bring Ben up right and he succeeded—until Ms Engel got greedy again. I wonder when he finally realized that it was Ben who had murdered her, and the other women."

"Best guess, the next day, if he's the one who was watching your place and shot at you. Whether he figured it out for himself or Ben told him is still up for grabs."

"With Ben living right here in town, it's fifty-fifty which one did what," I said. "It's pretty obvious though that Carlo had no intention of turning Ben in. Pop psychology, but on some level he was probably glad she was dead and felt it was justified. If he knows about the other murders, and I'm betting he does, they still didn't factor in to his need to protect Ben."

"Or they made him even more protective." Tom shook his head. "From the outside looking in, he was almost psychopathic in his need to do that. I hope to hell I never get that way with my kids."

 

"Hopefully you won't need to. I don't see either of them turning into homicidal maniacs."

"I'm betting he didn't think Ben would—until it happened. I'm sure we'll find out in time, one way or the other." He got up, putting his notepad away. "You'll need to come down to the precinct to sign your statement, once I get it typed up. Now, I have to get to the hospital and question the Donatis, or"—he smiled dryly—"try to while their lawyer fends me off, if they've gotten one."

"Have fun with that. Oh, and where are you hiding Ricky so I can go get him?"

He chuckled. "You know that's a state secret, so I'll have one of my people bring him home."

We shook hands, he thanked me for my help, I thanked him for his, and he left.

Walt Murphy – Part Two – 48

"Don't think about trying anything," Ben said after his father left the garage. He was still behind me, but his hold on my throat had lessened somewhat. I found out why when he told me to put my hands behind my back.

"Hard to do when you're holding me like a lover," I muttered. "Unless you want me to feel you up."

That earned me another cut to my throat. Not deep, but enough to draw blood again. He gripped my bicep hard and stepped back, pressing the point of the knife between two of my ribs.  "Hands behind your back I said. Now!"

So I did. Quickly—even as I tried to move away—he snapped cuffs on one wrist then yanked my other arm hard and finished the job. Finally, he came around to face me.

"I know you," I said in surprise. "You go by Danny. At least at the grocery store."

"That would be me."

He was tall and slender like his parents. Other than that he didn't take after either of them—although as I studied him I could see traces of Carlo in the line of his mouth, and a bit of Ms Engel in the shape of his eyes.

"Why the bit with the food bank?" I asked.

"Those people need help and I can give it to them." He smiled dryly. "If I had to hold a menial job, the least I could do is make it worth while on some level."

"My client said you've been working for her for six months." Since he wasn't holding on to me any more I moved away from him, hoping to find an opening to attack if he lowered the knife, which he still held defensively. "That's would have been around the time your grandfather died."

"Yes."

"Carlo told me you'd grown up to be a fine young man. I took that as an implication you probably went to college and were holding a good job. Was I wrong?"

"No. I was all of that until after grandpa's death."

"What changed?"

I think on some level he wanted to tell his story because he actually replied to my question. "I'd taken time off from my job to be with dad and grandma for a while to help when they needed me to. About a week after the funeral, grandpa's lawyer called dad. He said a woman claiming to be dad's ex-wife had been inquiring about where to find him so she could, to quote, 'Offer her condolences'. He said he hadn't given her dad's address, but that didn't stop us from worrying, knowing my”—his mouth tightened—"mother." He practically spat out the last word and began to pace angrily. "We, well I, because it was my suggestion, decided I should quit my job and move here where I could keep an eye on her."

"You knew she lived here?"  

"She left her phone number with the lawyer. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to track a person if you have that. Something I'm sure you're well aware of."

I was, of course. I was also aware that I didn't have much time before Carlo returned to say he hadn't found anything. First, thought, he'd have to figure out where the safe was, since it was well hidden and somehow I'd neglected to tell them where. Luckily it hadn't occurred to them to ask, but eventually he'd locate if he was persistent. 

"So you found a place to live," I said to keep Ben talking, "and got the job at the grocery store."

He nodded. "After that, it was just a case of using my spare time to watch her." He scowled. "She was one busy bitch." By now he was so into telling his story he seemed to have forgotten about the knife. He was still holding it, but his hand was at his side as he paced.   

I took a quick glance through the window in the side door of the garage to be certain Carlo wasn't on his way back yet. I had one chance, and only one, to take Ben down. If I got lucky. I waited until he was within a couple of feet of me, talking about her job and the men she 'trained'. "Trained being a lose description of what she really was doing," he muttered.

Tensing, I charged him like a rampaging bull. The top of my head hit him squarely in the face and I heard something crack. Not exactly graceful but it did the job. He howled in pain as we both went down. I was at a distinct disadvantage as my hands were cuffed behind me, but I was also on the top of the pile. I heard the knife skitter away and prayed in had gone under the car or the workbench or anywhere else where he couldn't get to it.

The kid was strong and he struggled to push me off, but I had weight and experience on my side and he was bleeding badly from his broken nose. That, hopefully, would begin to weaken him. I shifted quickly, managing to set myself at an angle so I could bring my cuffed hands around and grab his arm. Then I rolled fast, trying to slam him against the car. Slam didn't happen, but he did hit it hard enough that he gasped in pain. I managed to sit up, drew back one leg and kicked him on the chin just as he was trying to get to his feet.

That was all she wrote for him at the moment, but I still had Carlo to worry about. Using the car as leverage I managed to stand. I made it to the hinged side of the door just as Carlo opened it. Hitting it with my shoulder, I knocked him back. He stumbled, fell, I rammed my foot against the side of his head and he was out like a light.

Me-2, Donatis-0. I could live with that.

Walt Murphy – Part Two – 47

I woke to an empty bed. It took me a moment to get it together enough to realize why. It wasn't that it hadn't happened before. Until a week ago when Ricky moved in, we hadn't spent every night together. Not by a long shot. But now… I guess I'm getting spoiled.

I got up and hit the bathroom to shower, shave and get ready to face the day. After putting on jeans and a tee, I was headed downstairs to make coffee when my cell rang.

"Ricky's safely stored away," Tom said when I answered. "The man I'm putting on you should be at your place in ten minutes."

"What's he look like?"

Tom described him then said, "He'll act like he's a friend who was in the neighborhood and decided to drop by to say hello. You can take it from there." 

   

"No. That's too obvious. Have him go to Annie's Kitchen. It's a restaurant a couple of blocks from me. He can follow me from there."

"Follow you?"

"To a couple of stores and then back home. That should give Ben enough options about when and where to make his move if he watching me."

"Okay. You're driving?"

"Yeah. I don't think he'll just come up to me on the street if I walk, but he might decide to wait for me at, or even in, my car."

"Or get into your house while you're gone."

"He's already had a run-in with my alarm system so I doubt it."

"Does it cover your garage?"

"Nope. So yeah, he might try that. Okay, let your guy know the plan. I should get moving."

"Let's hope this works."

"Tell me about it."

I hung up, decided to forego making coffee as much as I wanted some, and went to get my keys and wallet. Then, after arming the system, I locked the front door and headed to the garage. I used the side door as always, since I kept the remote for opening the overhead door on my car's dash. 

I realized when I got into the garage that I had company.

Yeah, I should have been more aware but in my defense I wasn't expecting them—and it was them, Carlo and I presumed Ben—to show up so soon.

Carlo was leaning against my car, holding a small gun, pointed at me. I didn't see Ben, but I felt his arm snake around my throat. He had a knife in his free hand.

"If you don't want another scar to match this one"—the tip of the knife touched the scar that ran from my left eyebrow to my cheek—"give me what you found."

Carlo added, "We don't intend to hurt you, if you do as he says."

"Uh-huh." I snorted in disbelief even as I tried to figure a way out of the problem I was facing. "I can't give it to you if you don't let me go back to the house."

"Tell my dad where it is, and the security code. He can get it while you keep me company here," Ben replied, not moving his arm or the knife even a fraction of an inch.

"It's in the safe in my study," I lied, "and no way am I giving you the combination."

I tried to move and Ben pulled his arm tighter around my throat. "Is it worth your life?" He pressed the tip of the knife to my throat now, just below the arm around my throat. I felt it pierce the skin and then dampness from a small trickle of blood.

I gave them the numbers they needed because Ben was right; not doing so wasn't worth dying for. Besides, with Carlo out of the picture I might have a chance to deal with Ben.