Gunshots in the Night

      First, though, I grabbed what I had come for in the first place. His soul was small, and shifty. He tried to struggle and escape my grip. I've been doing this for longer than I remember and my grip never fails me. His squirming stopped after a second. Then I began my quick search. I looked about the room. Ignoring the priceless piece of art with the safe hidden behind it or the cabinet filled with liquors, I headed straight to the bedside table. There was a small book lying on top. It was the only thing there besides a lamp. 

     He looked up at me, almost like he wanted me to read it. I'd like to think that he wrote it to brag about his conquests. He refused to talk to me, so I'll never really know why he recorded it. It was for the most part a record of small ponzi schemes and embezzlements coupled with anecdotes about other, creative scams. Yet, he hadn't written it for that. There was something more important. The true point was that this book was a diary of only one night. There was one small section devoted to the events of one night, the rest of it didn't matter. That was his true diary, that record of a single night. He wrote that it was the "start of his career." It is this night that is the reason my intrigue with him has been replaced with disgust. More importantly, it's why I'm confused and scared of humanity, and scared of the great extremes you're capable of.

     It was a cloudy night. The Depression had just begun to ravage the country. Crime occurred during this time of financial failure as starvation spread. Of course, I was on the scene.

     Gerry was a simple man. He was a charismatic man with a look of dark charm on his face. On this night he wore an unappealing blue button-up shirt with a dark suit jacket. He was accompanied by Danny whose clothes were white and ordered and pristine and Richard who was an average man in a leather jacket on this night. The dead body was in the trunk of their car which moved through the alleys of Pittsburgh. Gerry drove with Richard in the passenger seat, both as silent as the body. Danny was in the back. He sat there looking all about while running his fingers through his hair. He kept checking to see if anyone was following them. He didn't know that I trailed their vehicle. I was waiting. I knew that two more souls would join the man from the trunk that night.

     The car stopped in front of a house. It was a small two story building on the outskirts of town. There was a light on. They had driven to Danny's house, and he knew that the light was from his wife, waiting in the kitchen, pacing to drown out her anxiety.

    "Alright," Gerry began, looking at the kitchen window, "Richard, you're going to help me with the body." His voice then shifted, and he looked back at Danny. There was a seriousness in his eyes. You could tell that he meant every cold, frozen word that escaped his lips. He meant business tonight. He looked like he was ready for anything; he was even ready to meet me. "Danny, you're going to go into that house, and I really don't care how, but you're going to get everyone out of there, and you're going to get them out of there quietly. Then, we're going to figure all this out"

     Richard opened up the door and went to the back of the car. Gerry did his part and helped Richard with the corpse. Danny ran in and left the door open for them. They took the body to the living room, while Danny ran into the kitchen. He saw his wife and started the conversation in a whisper, but as with all important discussions, it escalated into a yelling match.

     "Honey, don't ask questions, don't worry, just grab Jenny and I want---"

    "What's going on Danny! Who are those people and what on Earth--is that--Danny please, please, don't tell me that..."

      "Honey, get out! Grab Jenny, go to your cousins house. All this will be over soon, but for now we need this money. This has to work out." 

     His wife heard his voice shake. She didn't know what had happened, but she knew that it was serious. "You said that this would be only this one time, and we'd never have to worry again, and that nothing could go wrong. Has something gone wrong? You said...you said that nothing would go wrong!"