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Living Proof

Page 34

by Peter J Thompson


  “Hello, Louis. Another Saturday? Really?”

  He shrugged. “Can’t be helped, honey. It pays the bills, you know.”

  She looked to her husband. “What time will you be back? We’ve got a lot of things we need to do today.”

  “I don’t know, hon. As soon as we finish up, I’ll be home.” Wade bent and kissed her cheek. “Tell Cassie she played great, and I’ll talk with her later.”

  Louis led the way as they hurried off the field.

  “So, what’s wrong with your car?”

  “My car? Nothing. Susan needed an alignment and her car’s in the shop so she’s using mine.”

  Louis felt his blood pressure spike but didn’t say anything and kept his calm.

  Whatever begins in anger, ends in shame.

  They slid into the car, drove to the Stevenson Expressway and headed back toward the city.

  Wade looked over, puzzled. “Why are we going this way? I thought he lived on the north side?”

  “Turns out he’s got himself a lady on the side. I guess he doesn’t know anyone out this way.”

  They rode without talking. Louis focused on the ride, letting his mind go blank. It was better not to think about things. If they wrapped it up early, they’d have the rest of the day free. Maybe he’d go see a movie in the afternoon. Or take a ride into the country. It was a beautiful day, he might as well make the most of it.

  Louis turned off the expressway onto Kostner Avenue, a thoroughfare that cut through a residential area with tightly packed rows of small brick bungalows, all with neatly trimmed lawns. A jet roared as it climbed into the sky. The only time Louis ever came out this way was when heading to Midway airport.

  The residential area morphed into a strip of older commercial buildings mixed with franchise places, a Jiffy Lube and a Taco Bell, along with dry cleaners, burrito shops and liquor stores. Louis stopped down the street from a tall white concrete commercial building with a low-rise parking garage off to the side. A storefront Korean restaurant occupied the ground level. A sign above it identified the white building as a Quality Inn hotel.

  Wade glanced at the restaurant’s green awnings. “You sure he’s going to be here?”

  “He’s a fucking accountant. Every Saturday like clockwork, they meet for lunch then go next door.”

  “Damn. I’d kill myself if I was that predictable.”

  Louis pulled into the hotel’s garage and drove up and around the ramp to the second floor. The Quality Inn catered to business travelers and, being Saturday, the lot was mostly empty. A silver Volvo was parked between two other cars.

  “That’s his, right?”

  “Sure is.”

  “So, what’s the plan? We wait here until he comes back?”

  “Fuck that. It’s Saturday. You want to stick around here all day?”

  Louis parked the Range Rover around a corner and turned off the ignition. He removed his sports coat and hung it neatly on a hanger in the back before taking took off his shirt and doing the same. Next, he pulled a White Sox jacket from the back seat slipped it on over his undershirt. A Sox cap and his lucky Tom Ford sunglasses completed the outfit.

  “Okay Wade, be ready.”

  Louis took the stairs down and on to the sidewalk. He glanced through the restaurant window before entering. The place was small, eight tables, only two of them with customers. An Asian family sat at one table. At the other, near the back, a dark-haired woman in her thirties sat across from a tall, balding, forty-something man. The accountant.

  A pungent garlicky smell hit Louis as he walked through the door. The waitress was in the back, and no one looked up. He stood by the doorway for a moment. Then in a loud voice, he asked, “Excuse me, folks. Anyone here have a silver Volvo?”

  Stillwell glanced up. “What?”

  Louis took a step forward, keeping his head low. “Do you have a silver Volvo parked next door?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sorry, man. There’s been an accident.”

  “Oh god.” Stillwell’s face reddened, and he climbed to his feet. He looked at his companion. “Wait here, honey. I’ll be right back.”

  She nodded and looked away.

  They walked through the door together. Louis hung back a step to let Stillwell lead the way.

  “What happened? That’s a new car, you know!”

  “I don’t know, pal. I was on my phone. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “You better have insurance.”

  They walked to the parking garage next door and took the stairs up to the second level. Louis moved in close as Stillwell pulled open the access door, hustled onto the parking deck and walked up the ramp toward the Volvo.

  As they drew closer, Stillwell turned back to Louis, puzzled. “What’s going on? Where’s the damage?”

  Wade stepped out from between the cars.

  Stillwell spun around. “Wait a minute. Who are you?”

  Stillwell tried to back away, but Louis stepped in and gripped him tight. Wade lunged forward and smashed the edge of his stiffened hand into the man’s Adam’s apple. The accountant made a choking sound and slumped down. Louis squeezed him in a bear hug and dragged him into the space between the two cars. He forced him on to the ground, face down, and put his foot on his back to hold him in place. Stillwell coughed and squirmed, his bald spot turned bright red. Louis quickly glanced around, then pulled the Glock from inside his jacket, swung it down to the back of the accountant’s head and pulled the trigger twice. A faint percussive cough echoed off the garage walls.

  Wade reached into the man’s pockets, took his wallet and a slim wad of cash, and pulled the watch from his wrist. Now, when the detectives came by, they’d call it a robbery and would look no further. Louis slipped the gun back inside his jacket and walked around the ramp to where they’ parked the Range Rover. He threw everything in the trunk before putting his shirt and jacket back on and climbing into the driver’s seat.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s not waste the rest of the day.”

  On the way back, traffic was light, and they made good time. Wade was in a talkative mood and he went on and on with some story about a football game he’d played in years before. But Louis hardly listened. All he could think about was how proud he was to have controlled his temper earlier. Things could have turned out so much worse.

  To be continued … The Runaway will be available for Pre-order 12/28/2018

 

 

 


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