The Killing Man Read Online Free PDF

Maria.”
    “I tell the other policemen I don’t see nothing. They want to know about the trouble on the floor ocho ... floor eight. I—”
    “Maria ...” I reached out and took her hand and she was shaking. “They scare you about your green card?”
    Immediately her mouth tightened and she held back the tears. “One said ... he could take it ... that maybe it was no good ...”
    “Is it good?”
    “Yes. After the amnesty I get it. I am legal now. I am going to be a US citizen.”
    “He couldn’t take it. He was just trying to shake something out of you, understand?” After a moment she frowned, then bobbed her head. “Where were you yesterday?” I asked.
    “From the bottom to floor number ... five. I did the ashtrays. I ran the sweeper.”
    “Many people?”
    “Some. Mostly it was a day off.”
    “You know them?”
    She nodded again. “They come in, they leave, nobody stay after noontime. Maybe four people.”
    “Think about ten o‘clock. You see anybody then?”
    “Who you want me to see?”
    I let go her hand. “Beats me. I wish I could answer that.”
    “One walker is all.”
    “What’s a walker?”
    “He comes up the stairs. He walks. The elevator is downstairs a long time, but he walks. He come to floor five and he keeps walking up.”
    “What time?”
    “Just before my break. I go for coffee at ten.” I motioned with my hands, trying to draw some information out of her. “What was he like?”
    All I got was a noncommittal shrug.
    “Think.”
    She looked up at the ceiling a few seconds. “He was a big man. He wore a hat.” I waited. She shook her head. There was nothing more to add.
    “He see you?”
    “I did not see his face so he did not see my face,” she stated flatly.
    “Very big?” I asked her. “Middle-size big?”
    She shrugged again. “He wore a coat. Like for the rain.”
    Like he could put on after a kill to cover up any bloodstains.
    “He carry anything?”
    Another shrug.
    “Did you mention any of this to the other policemen?”
    A flash of fear touched her eyes again. “I ... they made me afraid and I could not think to tell them. Do you think they will ...” “Forget it, Maria. You have nothing to worry about at all. Just be a good US citizen, okay?”
    I got a little smile then. “Sí, si, very okay,” she said.
    And now I had a walker. He was big. He wore a raincoat and a hat. There would be a thousand other guys just a few blocks away who could answer that description, but at least it was a start.
    There was more that went with the description. He carried some kind of a billy club, but most likely a straight professional blackjack. He had a knife that was honed razor-sharp. It would have to be functional, small enough to carry discreetly, big enough to work efficiently. It could be single- or multi-bladed. I elected for a standard brand-name pocketknife with a four-inch main blade with a possible smaller one opposing. He could have a gun, but guys who prefer steel don’t seem to use guns.
    That took care of the weaponry.
    His personal profile was pretty damn shaggy. He had no compunction about taking out a woman. He felt no revulsion about torturing a victim. He could kill with absolute ease and apparently took a great deal of satisfaction from a grotesque act of murder. He was a deliberate killer and seemed to be acting as an avenger of sorts.
    Fear wasn’t in his makeup either. He came at me knowing I could put a gun in my hand pretty quickly and would have used it just as fast, but it was his expertise against mine and he was counting on his own.
    But he was a dumb son of a bitch because he killed the wrong guy. And if he wasn’t so dumb he’d know that and come back to have another try at me.
    And this time I’d have a little avenging going for me too.
     
     
    Somebody who was very good had gotten into my office. A pick had been used on the lock and the place had been thoroughly searched. The desk drawers had been pulled open, and only shut to