Tuesday, 17 April 2012

The Case of Mrs. Weldon - Day 23

The last two days, I should have been trying to capture Henry A. Weldon, but my mind has been otherwise occupied by thoughts of Patrick.

Patrick, a man who I did not know well, a man who by all accounts should have meant nothing to me, but a man who had shown me compassion without reservation or condition. He had been murdered and wanting to pay a debt of retribution to his killer had kept my mind in a state where not even the promised money for acquiring Henry A. Weldon was enough to make me concentrate.

I had spent hours wandering the streets of the city looking for any evidence as to the whereabouts of anyone who would know who would kill a man of God on a street corner on Good Friday, but no one was ready to talk. Not without some form of incentive.

Henry A. Weldon still remained comfortable in his ridiculous residence as far as the men in suits and the police were concerned. In truth he was not. He had decided, given recent events, that he would be safer if he were not at home. Considering how much I wanted to kill him, this was a fairly sensible idea.

Unfortunately his whereabouts seemed to be common knowledge and much easier to learn than the identity of a priest-killer. A pool hall on the outskirts of the city was rumoured to have a backroom where poker games were held during times of crisis for the crime bosses. This made it a more than likely location for one man running away from one P.I. to go into hiding.

People always make the mistake in thinking that no one will talk. There are of course a variety of ways to make a man talk. Some are in it for the money, some adverse to pain and others well, those are best not mentioned. So finding out where people are and who is responsible is only a matter of time. So my patience was wearing thin, but even if I couldn't get to Patrick's killer right now, I could take out Henry A. Weldon.

Normally doing any form of gunplay requires some amount of concentration, but I always think that anger is a great substitute for concentration. Kicking in a back door doesn't take much effort. Shooting two well built, broad shouldered bodyguards doesn't require a marksman and kicking an over inflated with self-importance man in the back, binding him with cable ties and throw him without ceremony at the feet of men in suits.

Shame that all that was in the pool hall was a load of dusty tables...

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