Just Right (Part 32)
Wolfe: The Winding Path
A pair of black and whites whip by, splashing water up on the sidewalk in front of me. I don’t even look up. My gaze lingers on the sea of gray as I slosh through the fresh puddle. Red and blue flares flicker in the windows of the shuttered shops, the accompanying sirens twisting away in the night.
Somewhere behind me an inferno consumes a building, flames licking the sky where they’ll find four bodies rendered into little more than ash and bone. A proper funeral and more than they deserved.
Six blocks away, an old man slumps over his steering wheel still clutching a small caliber revolver he’d never known he had until he was dead. Most of his face is splattered across the shatter-proof glass of the driver’s side door. A simple smash-and-grab, they’ll say. Expensive suit, armored SUV, shoes that were worth more than a few men’s lives. Why is he parked behind a shelter for battered women? Who got the drop on him? Someone he knew…
