He had time to shave, shower, change and get the duty judge to sign the new warrants for Billy Boy and Room ‘F’ before going to the Bureau. Mark was already there, along with an excited Millie.
“Can I come along?” she asked before he could even sit.
“Sure.”
He noticed Millie’s ever popular partner sitting by himself across the squad room. If they ignored M.F., LaStanza thought to himself, maybe the bastard won’t come along.
Snowood arrived just as Dino sat down with a fresh cup of coffee. He was whistling the tune from “Rawhide” and carrying a black gun case.
“What in the wild world of Jesse James is going on?”
“We’re gonna hit Billy Boy at midnight,” Mark answered.
“Good,” Paul reached into the case and withdrew an automatic, “I just picked up my new gun today.”
Immediately he started explaining about this gun, whether anyone wanted to hear it or not. “This here’s a brand new 9 millimeter Glock 17 semiautomatic pistol. It’s plastic. It’s made a space age polymer. This sumbitch can shoot twenty rounds without reloading.”
It looked like any other automatic to Dino who turned to Millie and said, “Some people need twenty. Some of us need only six.”
“You don’t know jack shit about guns,” Paul snorted. “This here’s the gun of the future. Hell, it’s already the official NATO handgun.”
Dino glanced at the wall clock. It was ten-thirty. He picked up the phone as Paul began to show how the new automatic had no hammer.
“Hey Babe,” Lizette answered.
“So what are you doing?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“Finishing up a boring chapter.”
“About that war? The Pell – op – ”
“Peloponnesian. No, I finished that paper weeks ago.”
“Oh.”
He waited a few seconds before finally coming to the point. “We’re going to the hotel in a little while.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” she said. “Have you given thought to the fact that this might be an ambush?”
“Yeah. sort of.”
“You know there may be a bomb waiting for you?”
He hadn’t thought of that.
“This – daughter – can’t you see she’s using all of you?”
“I thought of that.”
“First, she turns them all in. Then she lets them go. Then she starts sleeping with them. Then they start killing each other.” Lizette was doing her best to remain calm, “Now you’re getting ready to get the last one. What if you’re the victim tonight?”
Dino had thought of most of what she’d said, but not the bomb. He was wondering if they should call the bomb squad.
“Is the daughter that smart?” Lizette asked.
He didn’t know. But he did know one thing, “She wouldn’t hurt me.”
“What makes you so sure? Anyway I’m not worrying about her hurting you. I’m worried about that killer.”
It took another half hour to get off the phone. He tried his best to stop her from worrying, if that was possible He tried to sound concerned. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t concerned because he wasn’t afraid. He was too psyched to be afraid. His mind was on overdrive. Even while talking to her, he was concentrating on the layout of Room ‘F’ of Hotel Nenos.
“Why don’t you just wait him out?”
“Because I got two murder warrants on him and I know where he’s going to be. I gotta go get him.”
“Why?”
“It’s what I do for a living. I hunt down people who kill people.”
When Dino mentioned the bomb squad, Mark’s nose crinkled as if he smelled something foul.
“It was just a thought,” Dino said. He felt foolish for ever bringing it up. So he poured himself another cup and reapplied his mind to the task at hand. Unlike the first assault on Room ‘F’, this time he wasn’t bone tired. He felt sharp.
Across his desk, his partner was showing off the Glock 17 to Millie and the two uniformed men who had come in to be briefed for the – raid on Hotel Nenos. When Paul finished loading the automatic, he chambered a round and declared, “OK. It’s Wyatt time!”
•
Mark checked with the stakeout team when it was time to leave. Billy Boy had not been seen.
“Good,” Mark replied. “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
At 11:45 PM, two unmarked units pulled up next to the stakeout team across Iberville Street from Hotel Nenos. One marked unit pulled up on the Decatur Street side while another blocked off the corner of Iberville and Chartres.
Mark and Paul and Dino had already put on their bullet proof vests. Mark made the two uniformed men going up with them do the same. They left two uniformed men at the front door of the hotel and assigned Millie and M.F. to guard the fire escape on the Decatur Street side.
Mark took the shotgun. Paul tucked his Glock 17 into his belt and grabbed the sledge hammer. Dino took out his .357 and led the way up. On their way, Mark told one of the uniformed men to grab the hotel clerk, “Hold on to that Ass-hole.”
The door of Room ‘F’ had acquired enough filth to be properly aged. The hall stank of fresh urine. Dino crossed to the far side of the door while Paul took aim with the hammer. Swinging it sideways in a long loop, Pau slammed the hammer against the doorknob, popping the knob off in one blow.
Dino shoved the door and rushed into the dark room. The couch was empty but there was movement in the kitchen area. He caught sight of a leg disappearing into the bedroom.
“Police!” Dino yelled, still rushing forward, magnum pointed straight ahead. In two quick steps he was at the kitchen doorway. In that instant the apartment exploded with gunfire. He felt the force of a large caliber weapon firing at him splintering wood and carpet and shattering the wall next to him.
He ducked to the side and in the next instant felt the response of multiple gunfire from behind, the boom of the shotgun and the crack of Paul’s automatic firing like a machine gun.
Lying prone against the door frame, he could see his partner eject a clip. He looked back toward the bedroom and saw movement again, this time in the kitchen window.
It was Millie. He could see her clearly. She was reaching in, her stainless steel magnum illuminated by the street light behind her. At that exact moment of recognition, he saw it happen. Shots rang out and he saw her head snap to the side and she slumped straight down and fell into the kitchen.
He did not hesitate. He was up and running straight for her, his magnum trained on the bedroom doorway. A rush of gunfire erupted behind him. The bedroom door sill splintered. He grabbed Millie and pulled her back away from the window.
He saw Mark’s legs and Paul’s as they stepped forward, still firing. He covered Millie with his body and held her there and then there was a pause in the shooting. Paul flipped another clip and Mark dropped the shotgun.
A voice screamed, “I surrender! I surrender!”
It was Billy Boy.
Dino’s magnum was pointed at the bedroom door, cocked and ready. He watched his partner lock and load another slip, step toward the doorway and fire twenty shots into the bedroom. Then Mark rushed into the doorway, turned to his right and fired his stainless steel Smith and Wesson .357 and the sonic boom of magnum rounds echoed almost as loud as the shotgun blasts. And then there was silence.
The room was foggy with smoke and the strong smell of gunpowder along with the pungent odor of blood. Dino could feel the warmth of blood on his legs and the rubbery goo of Millie’s brains in his left hand.
He held her tight and closed his eyes but the smells wouldn’t go away. He heard Mark and Paul step back into the room. He felt a light in his eyes. Opening them, he could see everything in vivid color. Someone had turned on the kitchen light.
All he could see was the large wound on the side of her head – the bright blood – the gray-white brain tissue – and the pink-white skull plate staring back at him.
He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear Mark and Paul both catching their breath. In the background he heard one of the patrolmen calling for an ambulance and for Mason, “You better get 3120 over here!”
It was Mark who tired to pull Dino away to get to Millie. But Dino wouldn’t move. So his sergeant had to shove the small kitchen table aside to check Millie for vital signs.
Dino watched him and thought, “What’s the use?”
“She’s dead,” Mark announced, standing up. There was blood and a glob of brain tissue on his pants where he had knelt next to Millie.
Then the silence was broken by shouting and cursing. The kitchen table was lifted and thrown across the room. Walls were kicked in along with the sound of glass shattering.
Dino looked down at Millie again and brushed her hair aside until he cold see the side of her face. He leaned over and looked at her eyes, at her dull, lifeless eyes and noticed for the first time, that they were blue.
Rising slowly, he stood over her and looked at the crumbled – corpse – of another homicide detective. She was all twisted, in almost a fetal position. The same way she’d come into the world, he thought to himself. Then he reached over and pulled her skirt down.
He could still feel his heart pounding in his chest but he felt – calm. Mark was string out the kitchen window, his fists clenched and pounding against the sill. Paul was back out in the front room, still kicking things and cursing. Dino looked back at the two patrolmen standing next to the front door. They were string at him – as if he was – an apparition.
Dino moved across the small kitchen to the bedroom. To his right he saw Billy Boy lying on one of the single beds in the crowded room. Large, bloody holes dotted the sweat hog’s chest and swollen belly. The pigeon-shit-eyes were staring at the ceiling.
In the twenty-two years of his life, Billy Boy had learned how to rob, cheat, steal, peddle dope, murder and blow people to pieces. No doubt he never learned – that – in New Orleans – if you kill a cop – you die – period.
“I surrender!” he had screamed.
Fuck him!
Mark came in behind Dino, reached over and picked up the foot of the bed, lifting it a good four feet before dropping it hard, sending the sweat hog’s body bouncing.
Paul came in and spat on the body.
“Come on,” Mark said, “that’s enough. We’re gonna fuck up the scene.”
Dino looked at his partners and knew what they were feeling. He knew that anger, that frustration, but felt nothing. He felt absolutely nothing.
Moving back into the kitchen, he saw M.F. climbing in through the window. Stepping gingerly into the room, favoring his right leg, M.F. caught sight of Millie and froze.
“What’s wrong with your leg?” Mark asked.
“I sprained my ankle.” M.F. looked like a frightened mouse.
Mark was on him in a flash, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the wall. The grizzly bear screamed, “Your partner gets her brains sot out and you got a sprained ankle!”
M.F. struggled to answer, “She – wouldn’t listen. Don’t – blame – me.”
Mark began to strangle the fucker right there. M.F.’s feet were dangling. It was OK with Dino if he just strangled the son-of-a-bitch and then tossed him out the window.
“Do it!” Paul egged Mark on.
M.F.’s face began to grow red. Mark gave him one more squeeze and then let him fall.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Mark yelled.
When Dino turned he saw the patrolmen’s wide eyes. They turned away immediately. Then one turned back and said, “The ambulance is here.”
An EMT stepped into the doorway and stopped as soon as Mark started bellowing. “Get oout! We don’t need a fuckin’ EMT. We need the coroner.”
“But – ,” the EMT started to complain.
“Get out! I know when people are dead!”
The EMT, the patrolmen and M.F. stepped out and left the three of them alone for what seemed like a very long time. Dino watched Mark go back to stare out the kitchen window and Paul pace back and forth across the front room. He knelt next to Millie and finally returned his magnum to the holster on his hip. Then he sat down and let his head fall forward across his folded arms.
When Mason arrived with two men from the day watch, he was wearing the tan sport coat he’d bought in celebration when Dino shot the Twenty-two Killer. His hair was messed, as much as short hair could be messed. He needed a shave and his pants were wrinkled. He took one look at Millie, let out a small sigh and started giving orders.
He pointed to one of the new homicide men, “You take them to the Bureau and when your sergeant gets there, tell him to take their statements.” Everyone knew Mason would process the scene.
Turning to Mark he added, “You know the routine. No body talks. Don’t wash your hands.”
Mason grabbed LaStanza on the way out, looking at all the blood on him, “Were you hit?”
Dino shook his head.
Mark and Paul and Dino filed past the two crime lab technicians standing in the hallway. One carried a camera and a tape measure. The other collected their weapons.
“I left a shotgun in the kitchen,” Mark said.
Dino didn’t bother telling them he never even fired a shot. They’d find out soon enough.
On his way down the stairs, he stopped by the desk clerk’s plywood counter, reached over and grabbed the telephone. He dialed Lizette’s number. She answered and he knew she wasn’t asleep.
“Hey, Babe.”
He cleared his throat and said, “We got him.”
“Are you OK?”
“Yeah. I just wanted to tell you – before you heard on the morning news – he shot Millie.”
“Oh, no.”
“The mother-fucker killed Millie.”
“Oh, my God!”
“Exactly.”
•
There were already two television crews out on the Decatur Street side of the building. Their bright lights were pointed at the fire escape and up to the kitchen window where Millie died.
Dino watched technicians hurriedly setting up, reporters with microphones in their hands putting their backs to Hotel Nenos, facing the cameras and preparing to tell a sleepy New Orleans what had happened.
He turned away and tried not to think about what lay ahead before he cold sleep again. After they swabbed his hands to check for antimony and barium to prove if he fired a weapon, he would have to wait to give his statement. And then he would have to wait out he Superintendent’s Hearing first thing in the morning.
It would be a long time, until morning. Detective after detective would filter into the Bureau with the same questions.
“What happened?”
“Did you get the guy?”
“How did she get it?”
No one would ask one question, except Dino to himself, “How did you let someone get killed on your warrant?”