The Mockingbird Murders - A John Riley Novel

Chapter 3 - Death by a Thousand Cuts

Riley stopped next to the Busker on the corner of Pape and Franklin, his eyes scanning the streets ahead for where Lawrence had gone. An acoustic guitar rendition of Britney Spears' Hit Me Baby One More Time filled the evening air. Pedestrian traffic was light, especially at this time of the evening, but Riley had managed to keep an eye on the gaunt man in his tan windbreaker.

He glanced at the busker with the tartan blanket spread on the sidewalk in front of her, and the girl, barely out of her teens, nodded to Riley without missing a beat. She tilted her head in the direction of Franklin Avenue and Riley nodded, glad he had planned ahead. He carefully placed a twenty dollar bill into the upturned hat on the blanket and only then did he turn to see where Lawrence had gone.

He spotted the man immediately. Lawrence was in animated conversation with a stopped police car and yes: he was pointing right at Riley.

Fuck.

Adrenaline surged through him, saliva rushing to his mouth, heart instantly speeding up as the fight of flight instinct kicked in. There was no way that Lawrence could have spotted him or known who he was. He had been so careful at every step of the way. There was the possibility that Lawrence was pointing at someone else and not him—

Riley's attention snapped to the busker, who was launching into a very spirited second verse.

"Did you say something to him?" Riley snapped.

"Just told him... to watch his back," the girl sang, inserting the response into the song as if it were always part of the lyrics.

Riley growled, considering snatching back his tip. One more glance at Lawrence and the cop car confirmed his worst suspicions: the cops were definitely looking at him now.

Riley squared his shoulders and made his way down the block, aware that the two officers were watching his every step. Lawrence for his part, acted like the terrified victim he pretended to be and cowered as Riley drew closer. Riley could feel the man's eyes examining every inch of himself, commiting Riley's face, stature, walk, everything, to memory.

It was over. Riley would never be able to get close to the man again.

To drill home the point, and add insult to injury, the cops flashed their strobes, the red and blue momentarily lighting up the street.

Lawrence cowered against the car as the first officer exited, eyes never leaving Riley. HOLMES was the name on his ID badge. He was heavyset, more muscle than fat at least, his eyes weary, definitely a veteran. Riley carefully noted how the man's hand immediately rested on top of the holster and almost casually released the strap, ready for action.

"Sir, we'd like to have a word," Holmes said, raising his hand to wave Riley over. Holmes' partner had exited the driver's side and now made his way to the front of the car. He was skinnier and a couple years younger than his partner.

Riley turned to keep both of them in his sight and stopped where he was, definitely keeping his distance. He held his hands away from his body and gritted his teeth.

"What seems to be the problem officers?" Riley asked. Behind Holmes, Lawrence grinned like the psychopath he was and winked at Riley.

"HE HAS A GUN!" Lawrence shrieked and the bastard never stopped grinning.

Holmes' immediately went on the offense, his eyes scanning Riley, searching for the signs of the concealed weapon that Lawrence was screaming about. His hand grabbed the handle of his firearm, ready to draw.

It wasn't Holmes that Riley had to worry about.

BLAM! A shot rang out, and Riley turned his horrified attention to Holmes' partner. PETERSON as his ID badge proclaimed, had drawn his gun and fired almost immediately. Riley's hands were still raised in front of him and now he slowly looked down at his body, sure that he would see the blood blossoming on his shirt and spreading slowly, but there was nothing. Gunshots didn't work according to movie logic, and most times, people who had been shot didn't even realize it until much later unless a vital organ or an artery had been hit.