The Midtown Murderer Read Free Page A

the murders. As long as they kill each other, who gives two shits?”
    “ You sure it’s gangsters shooting gangsters?”
    “ Yeah,” Radcliff said, seeming to be distracted by something. “I could’ve predicted it. We’ve busted scores of meth cookers, but eventually they get released from jail; when a cook wants back into his organization’s meth kitchen, he’s gotta whack someone.”
    “Kill them?”
    “Kill them. That’s the only way he gets his membership back.”
    “That’s rough.”

 
     
     
     
    Chapter 5
    Priest reappeared in the doorway speaking with an officer. When Radcliff turned to be included in the conversation, Trent retrieved the report and slid it between a file cabinet and the wall. Then he stood at the far end of the table.
    Priest came in with the other officer. “Palmer, this is Detective Lieutenant Butch McClure; he’s on my team. Take a seat.”
    Radcliff saluted Trent on his way out.
    Trent slid the summary to Priest then glanced at the new arrival. His head was massive like a tomcat’s; his eyes were highly alert, and his hair was cropped short. He had weight-lifter shoulders; he wore a black suit with enough silk in the fabric to give it a nice sheen and a red tie and a starched white shirt with gold monogrammed cufflinks.
    Priest and McClure sat on either side of the table and trained their eyes on Trent like video cameras. McClure wanted Trent to retell his tale of leaving the airport on his Ducati and encountering the thugs.
    McClure thrust his head forward and fingered his neatly trimmed mustache while Priest rested an elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his hand. Trent felt isolated and unnerved by their double stare, so he fixed his eyes on his folded hands and recited as many details as he could.
    McClure then used a felt-tip pen on an overhead projector to sketch the location of the construction equipment, the three vehicles, and the position s of the corpses. Priest turned to study the images on the wall and together they referenced photographs taken from various angles to crosscheck Trent’s movements. Then they talked about distance in feet and inches, limited visibility, and police procedures.
    Trent glanced at the mirror and it occurred to him that someone might be watching and listening from the other side; he hoped no one had seen him hide the report.
    McClure then studied his notebook and Trent’s eyes and asked all kinds of perceptive questions. “How many people did you see?”
    “Two in the low rider; four or five poured out of the truck.”
    “ Are you sure?”
    “It was dark ; I didn’t get a very good look because of the rain and all.”
    “ But you were close enough to kill three of them. So, did they get out of the van? Or the lowrider?”
    “ The baldheaded guy got out of the lowrider; he drug Rikki out of the car window. The other two could have emerged from either vehicle, I guess. I mean they were hunting me, so I don’t know what vehicle they got out of.”
    “Good, that’s good. Now this is critical; we need to know everything there is to know about the man you knifed.”
    “ You know more than I do.”
    “ Was he black? Caucasian, Hispanic, what?”
    “ Hispanic.”
    “He was what, dark?”
    “Yeah, dark skin ; but not dark like an African American.”
    “ Light brown complexioned?”
    “Ye s.”
    “ Hair?”
    “Long and curly.”
    “Clothes?”
    “ He was wearing all black. Or dark blue.”
    “ That’s good information. Now, was he carrying anything on his person?”
    “Besides a rifle? Hell if I know.”
    “A backpack? A wallet? Anything in his pockets? His jacket?”
    “ No backpack. That’s for sure.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Because his back was against my chest when I knifed him. No backpack.”
    “Anything else?”
    “I really have no idea. Everything happened so fast.”
    McClure looked at his notes then leaned toward Priest. Without saying anything he took Priest’s notebook and thumbed through it.