“Amy, you should come see this.” Said Spencer one of her many enormous bouncers for Damned.
Amelia followed him to the front doors of the club.
“Shit! Mother fucking bastards!” She screeched in the empty street.
Poor bastard. The dead bloody shot up body of the Kid Mouse lay on the door step of her club with one hour till opening.
Spencer kept his distance, as Amelia shook her head in pity one hand covering her mouth. A sadness and grief washed over her. He was just a kid and did not deserve that. He died for a fucking sick game of Chess.
Taking a deep breath Amelia washed away the feeling of guilt. It did her no good in this business. Yet she could not help the grief and guilt that washed over her every time someone who worked for her was killed.
But this was a business and that was fucking life. So she grieved one moment and the next it was all business.
“Move the body. Have Charlie take it down to the Morgue straight away. I want this kid to have a proper burial with a head stone and everything . . . His names was Mouse.” Amelia ordered in a morose voice.
Spencer nodded and then added “There was a note too and this.” handing Amelia the piece of paper and the shot up copy of Twelfth Night and began to do as he was told.
Amelia examined the book with cool eyes . . . She would keep it. A small reminder of a boy no one would ever again remember.
Opening the small note she scanned the scribbled words.
Dear Spark,
Curiosity killed the Mouse. I'll be sending someone soon.
Sincerely,
Chief
Anger flared through every part of Amelia's being.
“Son of a bitch!” She spat as she scrunched up the paper in one hand not ever realising she was doing it and threw it to the ground where blood stained.
“Fucking great! More blood to clean up!”
What a fucked up day this was turning out to be.
But it wasn't over yet . . .
Amelia's lips curled up dangerously to the side as two Police Officers looking rather jumpy – as was normal in this area, for they feared for their lives, rightly – walked towards the Club.
Was it fate or Karma . . . Maybe it was both . . .
30 Minutes later . . .
A white unmarked van pulled to a screeching stop in front of the Providence Police Head Quarters. The doors slid open and two bodies clad in Police uniform were thrown onto the stoop of the PPD. Their brains blown out clear through their mouths . . . A gruesome sight yet not an uncommon one in the Providence.
A clean letter addressed to the Chief of Police was pinned to one of the corpses uniform.
An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind - Gandhi said that . . . but in Providence it just makes us Even.
I've taken two of your eyes. One for the boy and one for his corpse on my door step.
Don't make the same mistake twice . . . or it might be your last.
Forever yours,
S
The van sped away . . .