One Last Kill

by Spenser Warren

  “No one sent me. I came to take care of you on my own.”

  Caruso nodded. A stream of liquid ran down the inside of his khaki pant leg.

  “You’re scared shitless, aren’t you?” Vinnie asked. “That’s okay. I have mercy on all of my victims.”

  Caruso let out a loud laugh. Perhaps he was trying to attract his men to come outside and see what was going on.

  Vinnie thought he saw a furtive movement out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to turn toward it and see what it was. Had Caruso been staring at something?

  “You haven’t done shit. That’s why you and your dad drag in people like Boyle to clean up your mess for you. You’ve never had to kill anyone to rise to your ranking. Your old man’s given you everything. Real men like me, we take our power.”

  Caruso was shaking, and the liquid stain had seeped farther down his pant leg, but his words suggested a confidence that his body could not match.

  “Don’t let him rattle you, Vinnie.” Vinnie spun on his heels at the sound of the voice. It was the last person he wanted to see, that pipsqueak boy Tony Fregosi, ready to steal his moment of glory.

  “We need to take care of business before his men come out.”

  “Yeah, listen to the boy. You better shoot me now if you want any chance of getting out of this alive. Even if you kill me, my message will be delivered to the Commission and you and your guido father will be long dead, and your mafia with it.”

  Caruso found the confidence to smile. Vinnie glimpsed at Tony and then back at Caruso. He noticed the boy had a Colt Rail Gun pointed at the mayor. He really was intent on going through with the kill, just like Vinnie was.

  “Don’t do it, kid. Make Vinnie earn his manhood by pulling the trigger himself. You’ve still got a reasonable future,” Caruso said.

  A loud banging startled Vinnie. The pub’s back door burst open and collided with the white brick exterior. Two bearded men wearing Chicago Bears pullovers tried to squeeze past each other through the doorway.

  “Everything alright back here?”

  Before Caruso could answer, Vinnie fired at the two men. He struck the first man between the eyes, watching as he fell face-first into the concrete. The other man tried running back into the pub to escape but was gunned down by Vinnie in similar fashion in the doorway, with one bullet slicing into his shoulder blade and another ripping a hole into the back of his head.

  The smile faded from Caruso’s face. He stood motionless in the middle of the alley, hands clasped tightly behind his head. For whatever reason, his legs were still. Vinnie wasn’t sure why he wasn’t running.

  Shouting could be heard from inside the pub. Vinnie couldn’t rule out the possibility of more of Caruso’s men being inside. He didn’t wait for them to come. He pulled the trigger once again, aiming directly for Caruso’s power-hungry heart.

  Instead of the flash and bang of a bullet firing out of the muzzle, a sharp clicking noise emanated from the weapon. His gun had malfunctioned.

  Caruso smiled again. “I guess I have that kind of effect on people. Always jamming up the works. Goodbye, Vinnie.”

  Vinnie tapped the magazine and kept pressing against the trigger, willing for it to fire. Caruso used the opportunity to run down the alley in the opposite direction, searching for an escape. Vinnie reracked the gun and tapped on the magazine again, doing all he could to get the weapon in proper working condition. This was his one chance to vanquish his father’s greatest enemy.

  Caruso reached the end of the alley. Vinnie’s finger grazed the trigger, confident his gun would fire this time. He noticed Tony positioning his own gun out in front of him, clasping his right hand around the barrel, supporting the weight of the gun in his left hand.

  Vinnie ignored the boy, set his sights on the escaping Caruso, and fired.

  The crimson explosion that followed was fierce and horrific. The back of Caruso’s head shot blood like fireworks, splattering onto the pavement as fast as his lengthy body crashed to the ground.

  “Holy shit, what a shot!” Vinnie couldn’t help but shout in joy.

  He wasn’t completely sure that it had been his shot that had landed. A dozen golf balls could fit in the hole of shock left by Tony’s mouth. It had to have been the boy’s shot that killed Caruso.

  Vinnie couldn’t believe that the boy had beaten him to the punch. But his father’s greatest enemy was defeated. The job was done. Their secret was safe from the Commission.

  Another noise sounded from the back door. Someone was struggling to open it again. The fallen bodies of the two men Vinnie had slain were blocking the door, making it difficult to get outside. He couldn’t risk finding out if his gun was back in working order. He’d played the role he needed to play in ensuring Caruso’s death. If he was lucky, he would still earn the credit for the takedown.

  “Make sure my old man knows I made that kill, and I’ll make sure you’re duly rewarded in time.”

  Before the door could open, Vinnie ran past Tony and the slain Caruso, heading for the street. He couldn’t care less if the boy survived.

  The right man had been killed, and he wasn’t going to be next.

  29

  Cal ran from the doc’s Jeep as soon as the fourth gunshot rang out. He thought the first three noises he’d heard were gunshots, but they sounded too faint to be anything coming from O’Dooley’s Pub. How wrong he’d been.

  As soon as he turned the corner of the brick building, he saw the back of Bernie’s doughy body fire at Tony. He’d clipped him in the back before the boy dove in front of a dumpster.

  Cal’s stomach fell, like he was racing down a never-ending roller coaster. He felt the hit man aggression return to his arms. He bit into his lip to fight the urge to scream Tony’s name. The boy never should’ve been in this situation. There was only one way to help him now.

  He fired two quick shots, one in the back of the head of Bernie’s accomplice and another through the dense black Mohawk that sat atop Bernie’s head. Both men fell to the ground, their weapons joining them in their descent into death.

  Cal ran to the dumpster and reached out to the bleeding boy at his feet. His heart was wracked with guilt. He should’ve handled the kill on his own and never dragged the boy into it with Fonzie out of action.

  “Tony, stay with me.” Cal squatted, his face inches away from Tony’s. The color of the boy’s skin appeared to be fading from a golden hue to a pale cream-like tone. Blood soaked through the back of his T-shirt. Cal watched as the wound continued gushing blood into the fabric.

  The faint whirring of police sirens could be heard in the distance, not giving him much time to help the boy on his own.

  He took his shirt off and tried to determine the best method for stopping Tony’s bleeding. He settled on pressing the top of the T-shirt firmly against the wound, holding it with all of the strength he could muster in his hands and forearms.

  As much as he hated Tony’s life being in danger, he couldn’t believe someone had beat him to the punch on the Caruso kill. There had to be another shooter with Tony, based on all of the carnage strewn about the alley. It seemed like too much for one man, especially for someone with next to no training.

  When the bleeding hardly slowed, Cal started to worry. He had an inkling to call 911 himself, just to make sure Tony wasn’t in mortal danger. But as the sirens drew closer, he knew that if he didn’t get out of there, he’d be tied to these murders.

  Cal’s thoughts were disrupted when he felt a sudden tap on his shoulder. He spun around to face a balding man with a curly black beard wearing a white chef’s apron. The hair that was left on his head matched the beard.

  “Hey, pal, you’re alright. You saved that boy’s life. I saw those two pigs shooting at him. They were hanging out with the mayor in the bar earlier, but they looked like scum.” The man paused and scanned down the alley, his eyes falling on Caruso’s brains splattered on the pavement. “Jesus Christ, is that the mayor?”

  Cal grabbed his gu
n and thrust it at the man. The sirens were even closer. The man must’ve called the police after all of his patrons escaped the murderous chaos at the bar.

  “Don’t call me ‘pal.’ I saw absolutely nothing that happened except for what you saw—those men trying to kill this boy. I want you to stay with him and make sure he gets good medical attention. Tell the police everything you saw with those two men hanging out with the mayor.”

  Cal glared at the man, hoping to force his message across. “You will not mention one word about my presence here or I will come back and make sure worse happens to you than what happened here today. You got that?”

  The man nodded, clearly frightened. Cal could still play the role of psychotic hit man when he wanted, but it was a role he no longer desired. Guilt strangled his heart as he decided he would have to leave Tony behind to face the risk of interrogation and police charges. Even though Tony was only a driver, Cal was confident the mafia would get lawyers for him and make sure he wasn’t tied to this mess. They’d have no choice.

  Cal got to his feet and ran past Caruso’s dead body, wondering how the scene surrounding him had unfolded. Had Tony really killed Caruso? Or was another gunman present? Something was off about this entire operation.

  His world felt less real than it had twenty minutes ago, when he was only preparing for what he hoped was his final kill. Now he had to find new courage. He’d have to explain to Alfredo that the Caruso kill had gone bad.

  30

  Cal ran harder and faster than he had in months, trying to put as much distance between him and O’Dooley’s Pub as possible before the police arrived. He ran for the parking garage exit of a dilapidated warehouse building across the street, hoping he could hide out for a while before moving on to a safer location.

  He was shirtless, having used his shirt as a bandage for Tony. He hoped the boy would pull through, though he didn’t understand what Tony was doing in the alley with a gun in the first place. As far as Cal knew, Tony had never fired a weapon until he’d been forced to save Cal’s life in the alley across from City Hall. The kid had made a lucky shot. Cal figured he could’ve gotten the gun from home, unless someone in the mafia had given it to him.

  Cal wondered again if someone else had been back there with Tony. The police would be able to answer that question soon enough once they examined how the men on the scene were killed.

  Cal caught his breath while he crouched behind one of only a few cars in the garage. He assumed no one was working on a Sunday, save a few workaholics who used their jobs as an excuse to escape their lives.

  “This is ridiculous,” he whispered to himself. “Why am I hiding?”

  Cal stood up as he heard the sirens continue to strum their death sound across the street. He needed to get out of there and make his way home. He had to find a plausible alibi for his whereabouts in the unlikely event that someone in the family was questioned and threw him to the wolves. Alfredo wouldn’t risk the chance of his secret getting out.

  Cal knew that his knowledge of Alfredo’s secret and being the actual perpetrator of the hit against Louie Petrocelli put him in a compromising position. He didn’t think Alfredo would purposefully lose his best hit man and take him out over one secret. Though that hadn’t stopped Alfredo from ordering the murder of Cal’s widowed mother.

  While dead men couldn’t talk, Cal wanted to ensure his own safety now that he was planning to leave the mob once and for all. Caruso’s death meant there were no more men on his hit list. He’d find a way to go back to the Petrocelli compound when it was safe, when the police wouldn’t be questioning Alfredo as one of Caruso’s chief rivals.

  Cal was determined to reach Maria despite her failure to answer any of his previous calls. He hoped she wasn’t enamored with her date, if it wasn’t Caruso himself.

  The moment he reached for his phone, it vibrated with an incoming call. Much to his surprise, it was Maria, the last person he expected to hear from.

  “Hey,” Cal said apprehensively. He wasn’t sure if she was still angry with him.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t answer before,” Maria said. She was holding back tears as she spoke.

  “What’s wrong, babe? Did something happen at lunch?”

  Maria hiccupped. She cursed under her breath and sniffled before answering him. “Oh no. I decided not to go.”

  Cal was surprised. Maria had seemed so insistent on going to lunch with whichever public official she was meeting. It wasn’t like her to threaten Cal and back down at the last minute.

  “You didn’t?”

  “The whole thing made me feel like I’ve been a little unreasonable with you, that’s all. I’ve missed you.”

  Cal placed his hand over his heart to quell the pounding in his chest. He rarely experienced the emotion of concern that was present in him now. Anger was something he always felt strongly, as if he was drawn to it by Cupid’s arrow. Hearing his girlfriend say that she missed him convinced Cal that, even with all of his wrongs, he had at least done something right to win a love like hers.

  “Unreasonable? How were you being unreasonable? I was focused too much on me. Like I always have been.”

  Maria chuckled. “You’ll finally admit that now?” Whatever had gotten her down wouldn’t keep her in defeat. That was one of the many things he loved about her.

  “Yes. There’s many things I haven’t admitted to you. The whole mafia business is a start, but there’s a lot more you don’t know about me that I’ve got to get off my chest. Next time I see you, I’ll start with one little thing. Then the next day, it will be something different. I feel like we have to make up for so much lost time.”

  Maria sighed. It was nice to hear her breath again. He loved hearing, feeling, smelling it on his ear, especially after they made love. Over the phone it wasn’t the same.

  “Well, we’ll have plenty of time. I want to see you soon. How about tonight?”

  “You’re sure? You’re not angry with me?”

  “Yes, I’m still angry, Cal. But I love you too much to let that linger. I’ll come to your place.”

  Cal paused. He was ready to tell her he loved her again, only the second time in their yearlong love affair. He was still having a tough time accepting this side of his humanity.

  “Maria, before you go, there’s something I have to say. I’m done.”

  “Done? Done with what? Done with me?”

  It was Cal’s turn to sigh. “I’m not done with you. I’m done with the mob. Forever. I don’t want to kill another man again. Something happened today. You’ll hear about it on the news. I didn’t kill the man, Maria. It was my kill to perform, but I didn’t do it. As soon as this blows over, I’m telling Alfredo that I’m done. I’m willing to leave it all behind, if that’s what it takes.”

  He expected Maria to scream sweet shouts of joy. She stayed silent, though Cal could feel her smile through the phone. Somehow, knowing it was there was enough.

  “I love the sound of that. I gotta go, but I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

  Cal said the three magic words but heard nothing in response. She hadn’t even given him the chance to choke under the pressure of living up to the expectations of a normal loving couple.

  He had a lot of work to do.

  31

  Alfredo sat in his living room, curled up on the couch with his wife, Susan, beneath his arm, clutching a bottle of Budweiser in his right hand. Susan wasn’t much of a television watcher, but he’d convinced her to sit down for a few minutes and watch one of his favorite films, The Godfather.

  He heard his cell phone vibrate against the table behind the sofa, rattling against the family picture frames that decorated the cherry oak table. Alfredo dashed to his feet, doing his best to avoid letting his wife fall completely into the couch. He didn’t bother noticing who had called. He was desperate for any information.

  “Yeah, what is it?”

  “Alfredo, Captain Joe Blutarski of the Chicago Police Department speaking. I would’ve
called you at home, but I assumed your cell phone would be the best place to reach you.”

  “Jesus Christ, Blutarski. You’re giving me a heart attack. What’s going on?”

  Alfredo’s heart pounded in his chest. Blutarski had long been on the mafia’s payroll, and he was a good source of intel on a lot of the gang violence in the city. A call from the cop usually meant something bad had happened.

  “We’ve got a kid in the slammer here. Actually, he’ll be in the slammer once he’s released from the hospital. I have no way to tell if he’s affiliated with you other than the fact that he was at a major crime scene this afternoon.”

  “What crime scene? This isn’t in the press, is it?”

  “Oh yeah, it’s in the fucking press. I sure as hell hope none of your guys are connected with this, because the mayor of Chicago’s fucking brains are splattered behind O’Dooley’s Pub. Lots of other bodies at the scene too. The owner of the place says some thugs were trying to kill the boy we’ve got. Two more Joes got plugged, but he didn’t know if they were involved with the mayor or not. We have no clue if the boy killed any of these guys yet, but we’ve got to investigate as if he did.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty gruesome. More shootings, just what we need. I want to help you here, Alfredo. You’ve been good to me and my family over the years, and I respect you a lot. You know what I’m sayin’?”

  Alfredo nodded. Even though he was hearing from Blutarski, a cop that he trusted, he was puzzled that he hadn’t heard anything from any of his men. Neither Frankie nor Cal had contacted him.

  “What makes you think this kid has anything to do with me? Who is he? Is he talking?”

  Blutarski let out a puff of air. Alfredo pictured him enjoying one of the nice, fat cigars that he sent to all the cops on the payroll for their birthdays each year. If he remembered correctly, Blutarski’s birthday was in July.