One Last Kill

by Spenser Warren

  Bernie smiled and straightened up further, seemingly no longer threatened by Cal. Cal had to admit, the plan seemed impressive.

  It sounded like a secure future for him on the surface. Alfredo and Vinnie would be taken out, Caruso would see to his safety from the Commission, and he would likely be free from prosecution for his earlier crimes. But what would Caruso want him to do as part of his grand plan? Would Cal still be the killer that he didn’t want to be? The killer that Alfredo seemed willing to have walk away once this job was done?

  It was his turn to start playing the political cards that power-hungry mongrels like Alfredo and Caruso were used to playing.

  “I’m intrigued by the mayor’s proposal. If I accept, I’ll need you to do a few things for me.”

  Bernie clapped his hands together. For a man who was so gruff the other day at the hospital, he appeared childlike. “Brilliant. What would you like?”

  “I’d like a promise that, once the mayor’s plan goes through, I’m free to go. I’m ready to put this life behind me. I’m tired of killing for others.”

  Bernie frowned and let out a loud grunt. The Bernie he had met at the hospital had returned. “Mr. Boyle, the mayor finds you too valuable to let go. You’ll be sorely needed and extraordinarily compensated should you decide to join forces with us. But I’m sure the mayor will find a way to accommodate your request. Anything else?”

  “Yeah. My friend out there, his name is Fonzie. We’re supposed to be following the mayor over the next few days leading up to the meeting. I’m going to need your men to spot us and take us in, put us out of commission without killing us. Until the meeting on Monday.”

  Bernie let out another boisterous laugh. “Why is that, Mr. Boyle?”

  Cal sighed and tucked his gun back in the waistband of his jeans. “Because I’ve been ordered to kill Mayor Caruso.”

  20

  “You alright?”

  Fonzie shook Cal’s shoulder, waking him from his dream. Cal tried to avoid flashbacks of past killings, but he’d fallen into the trap. Over the course of the night, as they took turns watching Caruso’s house, he dreamt of his first contracted killing as a member of the mafia. It was a horrible, heinous killing and reminded him of why he wanted out of the business.

  They staked the mayor out at City Hall after leaving Lou’s Tavern the previous afternoon. After waiting for what seemed like hours, they watched the mayor get into his black Lincoln and followed him to his house in Old Town. They watched the mayor and a guard go in and waited the rest of the night to see what would happen.

  Throughout the ordeal, Cal continued to question whose side he was on and whether he’d made the right decision informing Bernie of his orders to kill Caruso. Cal knew the big man with the falcon tattoo could pick them up any minute, but despite passing their car shortly after they parallel parked on the mayor’s street, he hadn’t made his move yet. Part of Cal felt like a sellout; another part of him felt like he was only doing what was in his best interest. Though his loyalty to the Petrocellis, and all they’d done for him, had him thinking he should go through with the hit after all.

  Fonzie shook Cal when he didn’t respond. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I don’t know,” Cal lied. “Just thinking.”

  “Well, stop it. A couple guys are leaving the mayor’s house.”

  Cal rubbed the sleep from his eyes and saw Bernie and the guard walking down the front steps out to the garage. The door opened and Bernie got in as the thin guard scanned the street. If he’d spotted Fonzie’s car, he didn’t acknowledge it.

  Cal saw a woman with shoulder-length black hair and a young boy of around twelve enter the black Lincoln parked inside. The guard ventured from the curb toward the garage and made his way to the driver’s side of the car.

  After a brief moment, the car backed away from the drive and out into the street. Cal saw four silhouettes in the car, meaning the guard, Bernie, Mrs. Caruso, and the boy were all inside.

  Fonzie looked at Cal with a mischievous glance once the car had disappeared. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

  “Yeah. Unless we miscounted, Caruso ought to be all alone in the house right now. This is as good of a chance as we’ll have to nail him before he goes out again.”

  “Yessir. I don’t want to do any more surveillance than I have to. Let’s take care of business.”

  Cal grabbed his gun and checked to see that his magazine was full. Fonzie did the same. They both had knives on them as well.

  “The way I see it, one of us goes in the front, one goes in the back. We’ll have to corner the mayor once we get inside, but that shouldn’t be too difficult,” Fonzie said.

  “Yeah,” Cal replied. “It would help to know what floor he’s on once we get in, see if we can get an element of surprise going.”

  They exited the car and started walking toward the house. “It’s been a while since we’ve done one of these together,” Fonzie said. “You ready for it?”

  “We whacked MacErlean not too long ago.”

  “Ah, forgot about that one already.”

  Fonzie strode to the front door. Cal headed toward the back. Picking a lock was child’s play for the both of them, but Cal couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation each time he broke into a home. By the time he reached the deck next to the back door and removed the tension wrench and pin that he needed to pick the lock, his heart was racing. Surely the mayor would hear him and Fonzie breaking into the house and have a weapon at the ready to start firing at them.

  Within seconds, Cal was inside the house. The back door opened to a cozy kitchen with white walls above a red baseboard. The lights were all on and shone brightly from orange cones that hung from the ceiling. A white-legged table with a beechwood top and matching chairs was clustered tightly against the wall.

  Cal was fortunate that the hardwood floors didn’t creak as he crept to the hallway leading to the front room. The hall was clear, and Cal saw no signs of Fonzie through the visible front door. Perhaps he had ventured upstairs already.

  Cal removed the gun from his jeans and held it close as he tiptoed forward, preparing to fire. He felt a quake of nervousness course through his arms, tingling up to his fingers that held the gun. His left hand steadied his trigger hand.

  A sharp tumble of a heavy object rattled his nerves further. He peered around the corner into the living room but saw nothing disturbed. He stepped around the corner and into the living room, with his gun at the ready. Cal scanned the stairs again and back to the hallway, at first questioning if the noise had come from behind the hall door. That couldn’t have been it. He was sure the noise originated from above.

  With his attention diverted to the hall, Cal heard another loud crash, and this time saw that Fonzie was the source of the noise. His friend rolled down the stairs and tumbled toward the bottom landing, his head smashing against the wall as he came to rest.

  Cal raced toward him, keeping his gun pointed at the stairwell, ready to fire if someone had caused Fonzie to fall and dared reveal themselves. Two long legs emerged from the top of the stairs, and the rest of Ross Caruso’s body came into view. His gaze was directly on Cal, Fonzie’s gun aimed at him.

  “Ah, Mr. Boyle,” Caruso said. “I’m glad you were here to protect me from this brute who broke into my house. You arrived in the nick of time.”

  Cal looked at Fonzie and back at Caruso. Fonzie was out cold.

  “What else did you do to him?”

  “Don’t worry about him.” Caruso kept the gun pointed at Cal. “He’s meaningless. Besides, this is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it? You asked Bernie for a way to detain the two of you so you wouldn’t have to execute Alfredo’s order to kill me. The police will be on their way to take him away for breaking into my home. Everything will be taken care of.”

  A phony smile spread across Caruso’s face. Cal’s anger boiled as Fonzie lay motionless on the floor. Alfredo and Vinnie’s orders filled his head once aga
in. The only thought on his mind was killing Ross Caruso. He couldn’t forgive what he had done to Fonzie.

  Caruso stepped down to the lower landing, kicking Fonzie’s legs out of the way as he made his way to the living room floor. He positioned himself solidly before the front door.

  “I hope you’re not having a change of heart. Because now you have no way out of here. I’m afraid what’s done is done.”

  Caruso set Fonzie’s gun down next to his unconscious body, his gloved hands not leaving any fingerprints on the weapon. It was the opportunity Cal had been seeking, though Cal was convinced something else was going on. Caruso seemed like a highly calculating man. He wouldn’t leave chance in Cal’s hands.

  Anger welled up inside of him once again. He no longer doubted the decision he would make. Seeing his best friend lying in an unconscious heap at the foot of the stairs sent his rage to a tipping point. He pointed the gun at Caruso and fired.

  Cal waited for the sound of the gun blast, the image of blood spurting out of Caruso’s chest as he toppled to the ground, a victim of his own cockiness. Instead, all Cal heard was the click of his gun. He’d forgotten to take the safety off. It was an amateur move for a professional killer.

  Caruso grabbed the door handle bent over in laughter.

  “It looks like I’m in your head, Mr. Boyle. But don’t you worry, Bernie leaving with my family was a setup for you and your friend. My men will be here to take care of you, and if they fail, the police won’t. Good riddance.”

  Cal switched the safety off and fired his weapon again, the bullet meeting the door as Caruso dashed out of his house. He heard shouting outside and the sound of footsteps running across the street. Caruso must have escaped unscathed—it was his voice that was the loudest in barking orders to what presumably were more of his goons.

  The sound of footsteps grew louder. Adrenaline pulsed through Cal’s veins as he considered his next moves. He had two choices: fight or run. Fighting would be foolish, since he was outmanned and outgunned. He’d have no choice but to hope the back door was clear for a quick getaway.

  Cal raced to the steps and grabbed Fonzie. He knew moving an injured man wasn’t the wisest decision, but he had no choice if he wanted both of them to get out of Caruso’s house alive. He draped him over his shoulder and ran from the living room into the hallway that led to the kitchen.

  The front door kicked open with a start and gunshots rang out toward him. Fonzie, no longer unconscious, cried out in pain. He’d been shot.

  Cal crashed to the floor once he reached the kitchen, ducking the bullets that shattered around them. He rolled Fonzie off of his back and spun to his feet, firing in the direction of the bullets while crouching near the doorway. He heard one man scream and another shooter fall to the ground. Two more men entered through the front door, and Cal continued to fire until he was out of bullets.

  He knew he hit one of the men for sure but didn’t have time to assess the fate of the others. Cal put his spent weapon back in his pants and looked at Fonzie, who was now writhing around on the floor. Blood poured from his shoulder, cascading down his arm and spreading through his shirt.

  “Shit, Fonz, we’ve got to get out of here.”

  Cal grabbed a few kitchen towels hanging from the oven handle to treat Fonzie’s shoulder once they got to safety. Fonzie grunted as Cal hoisted him off the ground and over his shoulder. Cal hoped no men were waiting for them at the back door. He hadn’t expected an ambush and had left his spare ammunition back in the car.

  Cal opened the back door and was relieved to see no one on the deck. He thought he heard more gunshots fire as his legs picked up steam and raced for the alley beyond the small backyard. He glanced over his shoulder to empty darkness. The load of Fonzie’s body over his shoulder was weighing him down, but he knew he had to keep going. He ran for a couple of blocks, occasionally glancing behind him to make sure he wasn’t being followed.

  He stopped at a large rented storage unit that was in the process of being loaded up with goods. Squatting behind it, he gently set Fonzie on the ground. Fonzie’s breathing was heavy and labored. Cal raced to dig the towels out of his pockets and wrapped them against his wounded shoulder.

  “Shit, shit, shit. Work with me, Fonz.”

  The blood continued to pour out. Cal had to cut Fonzie’s T-shirt with his jackknife to gain clear access to the wound. Even with the towels putting pressure on the wound, blood continued to pour through them. He feared that the brachial artery had been punctured due to the gunshot wound, which would mean surgery, if they could get him medical attention.

  Cal kept pressure on the wound with one hand, and with the other, he called Tony. He needed the kid to pick them up and get them to Doc Parker. The mafia used the services of a retired surgeon when someone was hurt but couldn’t go to a hospital for fear of police questioning.

  “Tony, get your ass over to Old Town. Fonzie’s been hit. It was Caruso’s men. We need to get him help as soon as possible.”

  21

  The next morning, Cal debated whether he should leave Fonzie’s side at Doc Parker’s house and make another attempt at finding Caruso. He was sure that, despite all of the commotion at his house yesterday, Caruso and his family would attend Sunday Mass at St. Michael’s. Al Meransky and his family also attended Mass there, and Cal remembered Meransky joking about Caruso’s wife singing in the choir.

  “When she gets ready to do her solo, make sure you get up to go to the bathroom or something. She doesn’t get her voice from the angels.”

  Cal eyed the bed where Fonzie lay post-surgery. Cal had been right in thinking that Fonzie’s brachial artery had been damaged. The doc had enough equipment to perform basic surgery in his basement, but without the proper diagnostic images, the best he could do was perform a ligation of the artery. In addition to the shoulder wound, Fonzie had suffered a concussion as a result of being thrown down the stairs. The doc suggested that Fonzie stay out of action for a few weeks until his wound healed up. He planned to keep Fonzie a few days to monitor him.

  Fonzie was pissed they hadn’t gotten Caruso the first time and was itching to get out of bed to join Cal on the chase. Cal had to force him to rest. He’d be of little use with a concussed brain.

  After seeing what Caruso and his men had accomplished by nearly gunning down Fonzie, Cal felt relief at not joining forces with the mayor. He had to prove to Maria that he was committed to putting the mob lifestyle behind him, which he fully intended to do once Caruso was dead.

  The buzz of his cell phone ringing in his pocket startled him, sending anxiety through his body.

  “Hey.”

  A soft voice sounded on the other line. No other voice in the world could match the angelic quality present in it, despite the pain that was evident from the tone. Maria had finally called him back.

  “Hi.”

  Cal didn’t know what else to say. He hadn’t expected her to return his calls.

  “I’m sorry about the other day,” Maria started. “It was such a shock to me, you know?”

  “Yeah. I never wanted to tell you. Part of me wanted to keep living with my secrets.”

  Cal walked out of the room and into the upstairs hallway. He descended the carpeted staircase and brushed the fingers of his free hand against the peeling flowered wallpaper.

  “I wanted to live with my secrets, but I realized I couldn’t do that anymore. I love you too much for that. Before you, I never knew what love was. I do now.”

  Cal’s face cringed as he muttered the words. While he really loved Maria, he realized it sounded corny as he spoke. It was the kind of language Maria usually saw right through.

  “I love you too, Cal, but it’s hard for me to keep going like this. I don’t think we can keep seeing each other unless I get a promise from you. I need to know that you’re done with this, this killing life. I know it may take some time, but I truly need to see you get away from this.

  “I don’t care if you have to flip hamburgers a
t McDonald’s to get out, but you need to do it. I’ve seen a tenderness in you that proves to me you’re not the monster that Alfredo and the rest of them want you to be.”

  Cal paused at the bottom of the stairs, his chest stricken with a tightness that was the sudden outpouring of emotion that he’d kept hidden all these years. The feelings got in the way of what he did best, the profession that he planned to consider himself retired from after today.

  “Believe me, I want to end this life too. Everything in me recognizes that. I promise I’ll find a way out of this and be worthy of you.”

  Cal stopped himself from saying any more. As much as he wanted to leave this life behind, he knew he couldn’t until he finished the job with Caruso. It was now or never. Still, Maria wasn’t satisfied.

  “But? There’s something you’re not telling me, Callahan. Don’t tell me you have another hit you’re pursuing.”

  Cal raised his brows, and his head fell into the wall in shame. There was no getting around it. He was going to have to tell her.

  “Yes. It has to happen or it’s the end of me. The man I have to kill would make sure my life and the Petrocellis’ lives would all end. As much as I want to be free from them, I can’t leave them like this. I have to see it through to the end. Once this is done, it’s all over.”

  He heard Maria crying. He wasn’t prepared for the shouting that followed.

  “Oh, is it really over after this? Or will Alfredo offer you more money and a fancier apartment to keep the killings coming? Let someone else take care of this, Cal. Let’s start living the life we were meant to live, free of all of this.”