Page 116 of Sinful Crimes for the Artistically Inclined
A small laugh rippled around the table from all but Joe, then silence reigned again as dishes were set down and explained in great and excessive detail. Althea’s fingers tapped on her knee the whole time, until the waiter was gone and she could whisper, “Are you going to kill her?”
Joe glanced uneasily at Percy, but all he said was, “Joe and I are going to her manor in Scotland to investigate. Just as soon as we can. That’s all I’m promising right now.”
And so they dined, for a time, Joe gently probing for information about what Althea might like to do rather than take on an almost definitely illegal, or at least shady, job for Percy. But whatever her plans had been several years earlier, before she was kidnapped, they were currently skewed by the very pretty blue eyes that sparkled under floppy dark hair next to her. And although Percy disapproved just as much as Joe of any sort of relationship between Althea and Leo until she was fully functional again, he set down his cutlery with a glance at the clock and clutched his stomach one more time.
He leaned close to Joe and whispered, “I might be a while.” Joe began to say something, so before he could, Percy added, “I promise I’m fine. Continue without me.”
Percy gave Leo a meaningful look, to which Leo returned a slight tip of the head, rousing Joe’s curiosity ever so slightly. Percy didn’t notice, as he was on his way to the restroom. From there, he climbed straight out the window, and was once again by Giordano’s car in the alleyway, ready to commit murder.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
A QUICK MURDER BETWEEN COURSES
The victim’s apartment was three buildings up the street. It was in a larger block than the one his wife lived in, though a much smaller dwelling, and Percy surmised she must have kept the family home after the split, what with having to care for the three children she told Percy he refused to pay for.
Percy pulled on gloves and pushed the call button for apartment 203. He waited some time, wondering what he would do if the man wasn’t home. Hopefully, he was just eating dinner, like Percy was supposed to be. Percy’s stomach churned at the thought, having had nothing in it but caponata, booze and three olives since breakfast, most of which he had thrown up. Finally, a voice broke across the receiver.
“Special delivery,” said Percy.
“I’m not expecting anything.”
“My name is Thomas Archer. I’m here on behalf of Maria Randazzo, and I’m serving you with a restraining order.”
After a series of exclamations and expletives, the door latch clicked open, and Percy stepped silently onto the scant hallway carpet, scanning for cameras. None at all. He pushed open thedoor to the fire escape, and took two stairs at a time to level two, where an unhealthy-looking man in a white singlet stood at the end of a dark hall, waving his hands about wildly, yelling even more wildly.
Percy searched anxiously for a neighbour’s open door as he quickened his pace straight past the man and into his apartment, closing the door behind him. “Elio Randazzo, is that you?”
“What’s that bitch done now?”
“And Maria Randazzo,” Percy pursued, “is she your wife?”
“Not for long.” An ugly, smug sneer crossed the man’s unfortunate face. “I’m gonna kill that bitch.”
The perfect last words. Percy punched him, hard, and cursed his luck when the man didn’t fall immediately to the floor. He had to hit him twice more in quick succession to get him down, spattering blood from a broken nose across the linoleum floor. Easy enough to clean, Percy tried to reassure himself, as he dropped onto Elio and took hold of his neck.
The idiot. They always went for the wrists, tried to wrench them off, as though Percy didn’t train his arms relentlessly for this very task. He pressed his thumbs deeper into the windpipe with expert pressure.
Elio tried to roll, so Percy rammed a knee into his stomach. A pained heave of air that Percy refused to let through sent the body into spasms, the eyes bulging large in the reddening face. Fingernails dug desperately into Percy’s wrist.
Fuck, thought Percy, as he felt the skin break. It would probably take bleach to get his DNA out from under those fingernails. Or he could just take the hands. That might be easier. But that would be messy. And if there was a mess, he might need the car…
Percy’s heart sank at the thought of dragging this lump of a person over there. And how long did he have until the second course? Had they started? Was Joe alreadylooking for him?
The man attempted to roll away again, so Percy smashed his head into the floor, but it only seemed to make things worse. Elio managed to get a leg free, which he kicked into Percy’s ribs. Percy held his ground, but it wasn’t good. He’d have to explain that bruise to Joe somehow. With that thought in mind, he let go of the man’s neck to dodge the second kick.
There was no chance of getting out cleanly now, anyway. Not since he needed to take the hands. And, he reasoned as he kicked Elio in the face, a .22 calibre bullet probably wouldn’t get lost in the apartment. Or worse, make its way into a downstairs apartment. Just in case, though…
Percy delivered a boot to the stomach before Elio could attempt to stand. As he wheezed in agony and rolled onto his front, Percy wrenched him up with an arm around his neck, and threw him into the kitchenette, his head smashing into the sharp corner of a bench and letting a stream of blood flow down the cupboard and to the floor.
Fuck, again. What a mess.
Another boot hit his ribs, then Elio was hauled up and thrown over the edge of the bench to die with his head in a small kitchen sink. Percy shot one bullet straight into his brain, just above his left ear, and Elio fell limp.
Percy let him slip back to the floor while he caught his breath. He wiped the beads of sweat from his temple with the back of his black glove, then turned to the sink to rinse his face. There he saw that the sink was virtually clean.
Fuck a third time.
The bullet was lodged in Elio’s skull and he was going to have to remove that himself.
