Children of Paranoia Read Free Page A

acknowledged my old friend with a quick nod, making eye contact with him in the rearview mirror.
    â€œHow’re things, Joey? I assume everything went well.” He showed me a wide grin.
    â€œEasiest job yet. No hitches. How about you guys?”
    â€œYou don’t have to assume,” Michael said. He threw an edition of the New York Post in my lap. “Your lazy ass didn’t even make the paper.” I looked down at the front page. There, in bold print over a picture of two bloody bodies covered by formerly white blankets, was the headline “Bloodbath in the Bronx.” Beneath the picture, in smaller print, were the words “Mets Take Two from the Phillies to Pull within One.”
    â€œHoly shit,” I said as I flipped to page three to read the story. “You guys are going to get yourselves killed.” I looked at the picture and the headline again. “And you’re going to get me killed with you.”
    â€œThey told me and Michael that they wanted us to stir things up. Well, Michael might have gone a little overboard.” Jared eyed me in the rearview mirror again. His smile didn’t fade. He was proud, proud of Michael, proud of the job we’d just done, proud of all of us. I began to read.
    Last night at 12:35, two men were stabbed to death in front of Yankee Tavern, a crowded bar near Yankee Stadium. Joseph Delenato and Andrew Braxton were walking out of the bar where they had stopped for drinks after attending the Yankee game when they were assaulted. The assailant approached Joseph first, stabbing him twice in the chest, before turning to Andrew and stabbing him in the throat. Both men died within minutes of the attack. Witnesses say that the assailant, a white male about twenty-five years old, moved quickly. He did not stop to rob the victims, nor does there seem to be any other motive for the incident. “I was with Joe and Andy all night,” said their friend Steven Marcomi. “We just stopped in for a drink or two. I’d never seen the [assailant] in my life. I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. It’s not like we got into any fights or anything. I can’t imagine why this happened.” While motive remains unclear, police say that this was likely the work of an experienced killer. “Whoever did this,” Lt. John Gallow said to reporters early this morning, “knew exactly what he was doing. He was efficient and precise.” Andrew bled to death on the scene. Joseph’s lungs were punctured when he was stabbed. “Technically, Joseph drowned in his own blood,” said the coroner’s office. “Each stab wound punctured a separate lung. They quickly filled with blood. The poor kid eventually drowned.” Joseph’s mother told this reporter, “I don’t know who could have done such a thing. My boy was such a sweet boy. He didn’t deserve this.” Andrew’s family was not available for comment.
    Next to a picture of the bar was an artist’s sketch of the perpetrator. “Nice picture, Michael. I’m sure your mother’s going to be real proud.”
    â€œThat shit doesn’t even look anything like me.” Michael grabbed the paper away from me to look at his sketch again. It really didn’t look anything like him. It was typical. All artists’ sketches did was build up general suspicion. No matter what the sketch looked like, everyone knew someone who looked a little bit like it.
    â€œAnd the quote from his mother. Real fucking precious. Like she doesn’t know why her son was killed.” Michael paused for a second, going over the story in his head again. “But did you see the quote from the cop? Precise and efficient. I’d like to get that quote on my business cards.”
    â€œDid you really have to make things this messy?” I looked again at the bloody picture on the front page and then up at Michael.
    â€œMaybe not, but it