I rumbled towards the back yard. I passed the corner of the house and saw Danny had at least three steps on me. It’s those long legs of his.
“Stop! NYPD!” Danny shouted as he ran. Further up ahead I saw our runner disappear behind another house. He had on a pair of shorts and no shirt. I put my head down and kept chuggin. Aiming for gaps in the fences slowed my pursuit but not as much as if I had tried jumping them. That’s for young cats: guys like Danny who don’t have little bits of shrapnel floating around in their knee. I looked back up and saw Danny had more than doubled the distance between us but he had gained on the runner. The mook hurdled a low fence then whipped his head back to check our positions.
Big mistake, asshole.
He misjudged the height of the curb and caught his left foot. As he sprawled across a dirt lawn, Danny drew his piece.
“Freeze! Hands on your head!” He pulled up short next to the punk who, by this time, had stopped trying to get up.
I slowed my pace to a light jog and tried to catch my breath. I really need to get back in shape one of these days. Maybe tomorrow. Nah, next week. Enh, I’d get around to it. Meanwhile, Danny had gotten the runner’s hands on his head. He patted him down. I heard the sap complain, “I didn’t do nothin, coppers!”
I huffed over. “Then why’d you run, dummy?”
“Cause there was coppers at my door!” Danny stood him up and I got a good look at him. He was a young greaser with black hair and brown eyes. His chest and face were all scuffed up from his meeting with the ground. Blood trickled from his nose which was probably broken.
“You expect us to believe that? You’re dumber than you look.” Danny rapped him on the back of the head. “Move it, smart guy.”
We directed him back through the neighborhood. I let Danny handle the questions while I caught my breath. “What’s your name?”
“Vinnie.”
“Vinnie Russo?”
“Yeah. I didn’t do nothin.” He spit out a wad of blood.
“You said that already. Do you know Tom Donato?”
“Never heard of him.”
“Don’t lie to us. You killed him.”
Vinnie’s voice went high and shrill. “Bullshit, I didn’t kill Tommy!”
“Oh, so you’re on a first name basis but you don’t know him? That’s rich.”
Realizing his mistake, Vinnie shut his trap.
Danny continued. “I believe you didn’t kill him, though. You’re too stupid to kill anybody. So who did?”
Vinnie walked in silence for a while. “We got all day, kid. We can have you sit downtown and stew while we wait. You ran from the police. I bet you’ve got a least one heater back at your place. Maybe some dope, too? We can go down that road if you want.”
Vinnie sighed. “He said his name was John.”
“John what?”
“I dunno. He didn’t say. Just John.”
“What did he look like?”
“Fat like this lug here. But bald. He had a mustache and a big nose. Godddamn mick shot Tommy.”
“Watch it with that mick shit, kid. So what happened? Did your dope deal go south?”
“No dope. Gats. I was telling Tommy he needed to protect his turf so we went to get him a piece.”
“How did he end up dead?”
Vinnie took a deep breath and the words came tumbling out. Slow at first and then in a rush. “He was talking to John., asking him about the pistols he had for sale. John said he had something special. He pulled out something that I’d never seen before, like something you’d get at a five and dime. It was small and glowed like a neon sign. Tommy was real interested in it and tried to take it from John, just to get a good look at it. It’s not like he was gonna nick it or nothin. John got real upset and started yelling. Tommy backed off and reached in his pocket for his fold. He wanted that piece real bad, I guess. John musta thought he was packing, though, and fired a shot. There was this bright green flash and Tommy yelled, then two more flashes and he hit the ground. I turned and ran, thinkin I would get it in the back, but I got away. Is he really dead?”
“You tellin us that Tommy got ventilated with a dimestore toy gun? Do I look like a rube?”
“I swear on my mother’s life that’s what happened!”
By this time we’d reached the car. I opened the back door for Vinnie and Danny shoved him in. “Sure it is, Vinnie. We’ll go back to the station and get this all sorted out.”
* * *
After we got back Vinnie went into holding as our prime suspect and we gave Lt. Stevens our report. He didn’t believe the kid’s story either and sent some uniforms to toss his place. They turned up a piece and several packets of dope but no scattergun and no toy raygun, neither. I had my doubts about Vinnie’s ability to shoot his pal so I suggested we try and track down the trigger man he had put the finger on. The description he had given us wasn’t much of a lead so we asked him to set up another meet. The kid was reluctant until we let him know what we’d found at his house. After we assured him we’d be right down the block and could be there in seconds if there was a problem, he got John to agree to another meeting that night. Vinnie was going to buy a raygun for us.
* * *
We drove Vinnie to the meeting location: Port Morris near the Bronx Kill. Danny parked the car at the far end of 132nd St. The meet was to happen by the rail terminal. Vinnie went white as a ghost when he realized how far away we’d actually be.
“Settle down. We’ll have eyes on you the whole time.” I held up a pair of binoculars. “Anything happens and we’ll be there before you know it.”
Vinnie’s eyes were wide as saucers. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he bit his bottom lip. “I dunno about this.”
“We can always take you back to the station. You’ll be back out on the streets in three to five.” I smiled.
“Ok, ok, can it, flatfoot. I’ll do it.” Vinnie opened the door and stepped out. He swung it shut behind him as he shuffled away.
“I bet he does something stupid.”
“That’s a sucker bet, Danny.”
I looked through the binoculars as Vinnie walked towards the terminal. His head was on a swivel and he rubbed his palms on his trousers. As he reached the terminal a man stepped out of the shadows. Bald head, mustache: must be John. He had his hands in the pockets of his coat, a sure sign that he was packin heat. Vinnie raised his hand in greeting and John nodded. They exchanged words, then John opened his coat and pulled something out. I could see the neon green glow bright as day. Vinnie’s head bobbed up and down and slowly, very slowly, his right hand reached into his pocket. We had given him more than the original asking price for the raygun just to be sure John would part with it. Money and goods exchanged hands. Vinnie took his prize and turned to start the walk back to the car. After a few steps his pace quickened and he nearly broke into a run. I kept watch on John and I could have sworn he looked right through the binoculars at me. Suddenly, his right hand twitched into his pocket.
“Sonofabitch! Hit it, Danny!”
The car started with a throaty growl and we lurched forward. Several things happened in rapid succession. The big sedan jumped the curb and barreled towards the terminal. John drew a pea-shooter and put a bead on Vinnie. I drew my pistol. Vinnie slowed and turned, raygun still in his hand. Two gunshots cracked out. Somebody, probably Vinnie, screamed. A flash of green light blasted past my window. Dogs started barking. I leaned out of the speeding car and put two slugs in John’s chest. Danny slammed on the brakes, bringing us to a careening stop near the weapons dealer. I popped open the door and leveled my piece at him.
“Toss the heater, pal, or I plug you again!” Danny and I stepped out of the car and he covered me.
John coughed and a glob of blood splattered on the pavement. His fingers released his gun and I kicked it away. “Where’d you get the raygun?”
“Bought it.” He hacked again and wetness bubbled out of the holes in his chest. “From my supplier.”
“Who? I need a name.”
“I think…I think I need a doctor.”
“And I need a name!” I adjusted my aim to the center of his forehead.
John wheezed a couple of times, trying to get a breath so he could speak. “Bobby. Bobby O’Neil.”
“Where can we find Bobby?”
“I dunno. He always meets me in St. Mary’s park. Please. I need…a doctor.” He coughed several more times and put his hand to his chest trying in vain to cover the holes.
“Call it in, Danny.” I turned back to John. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Tom Donato.” I looked over my shoulder and saw Vinnie lying where he fell, blood pooling around his body. “And Vinnie Russo. God help you.”
John started flopping around like a fish out of water as I walked over and collected his heater. As I did, I noticed a scorched hole in the side of the train terminal. I guessed it was from the raygun, but that would be for the lab boys to sort out for sure. I emptied the cylinder into my palm and pocketed the bullets. John twitched a couple more times then stopped altogether. It was too late for him, they’d be picking up two stiffs tonight.
Danny hustled back from the payphone across the street and let me know the meat wagon was on the way. We walked over to Vinnie’s body. John had put both rounds dead center in his chest. At least one of the pills must have hit his ticker because he had gushed blood all over the asphalt. The raygun still glowed in his hand, getting steadily brighter and then dimming over and over again.
“Grab that for me, will ya, Danny?”
“The hell is this, anyway?” He took the gun and aimed it back towards the terminal then looked over at me. “In the interest of science?”
I chuckled. “Yeah, why not? Just try not to hit anything expensive.”
Danny grinned that goofball grin of his and sighted on a trashcan near the train terminal. He squeezed the trigger and another bright green flash lit up the night. I screwed my eyes shut. When I opened them again the trashcan was gone. Black smoke rose up from the spot where it had stood a second before. A fist-sized chunk of the ground was missing, too.
“Holy shit! Didja see that, Sammy?” Danny lowered the raygun and I noticed that the glow had gone away.
“Lemme see that thing.” My partner handed me the blaster and I aimed at nothing in particular. When I pulled the trigger nothing happened. “Damn. Must be outta juice.”
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