This time I hung up before getting into my truck. Starting the ignition, pulling into the road, and driving to Vertigo all went down in record time. I’d probably get a speeding fine in the mail soon, but at the moment, that was the least of my worries.
I drove slowly down the road to Vertigo. There were police cars, red and blue lights, an ambulance, and an abundance of spectators in the area.
“What the fuck?”
I parked my truck, jumped out, and made my way through the crowd until I reached the yellow tape.
Monroe stopped me by placing a hand on my chest. “Sorry, man, you’re not permitted behind the yellow line.”
“Seriously?” With a slanted head and a cocked eyebrow, I glared at the idiot. “Are you seriously going to be an even bigger dick right now?”
Monroe opened his mouth, but then Anderson walked up.
“Let him through, Monroe.”
Monroe looked at him. “But Commander said—”
“Shut the fuck up. This is my scene, and I’m telling you to let him through.”
Well, well, well.My partner just managed to score himself some major points in my book.
I walked underneath the yellow tape and fell in step next to Anderson. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve got a huge problem.”
I’d known this guy for some time, and even though I’d never experienced him being anything but a sourpuss, the look of worry and concern on his face made me uneasy.
“What’s the problem?”
We rounded the corner to an alley that ran behind Vertigo. Anderson stopped and pointed ahead. “That’s the problem.”
A few officers scattered out of the way, and I saw a huge-ass motherfucking problem lying in front of a green dumpster.
“Gio,” I muttered, unable to take my eyes off his lifeless body.
“Yeah. Seems like he pissed off the wrong person this time.”
With his hands tied behind his back, his body awkwardly lying on its side, half his skull blown away and splattered against the dumpster behind him, it was obvious this was an execution.
“Motherfucker.” I rubbed my palm down my face and scratched my chin. “Gang related?”
Anderson nodded.
After the discussion Anderson and I had in my apartment a few days ago, one name popped into my head. “Mancusos?”
“I don’t think so.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You have any leads on who did this?”
He motioned with his head toward Gio’s body, and I followed him. There was so much blood and brain matter, it was a good a thing I lost my capacity to be grossed out by scenes like these, or I’d be spilling some serious stomach contents on my new Caterpillars right about now.
The scene was swarming with uniforms, f-bombs sounding all around while everyone tried to keep the scene intact until forensics did their job.
We stopped two steps away from the body, and I noticed his head was forced back from the blow, his mouth open, and the gold filling glinting as the sun started to rise behind us.Goddammit. Sure, he was a criminal with shit for brains, but the poor son of bitch didn’t deserve to die this way.
Anderson took his pen from his shirt pocket, crouched down, and pushed Gio’s bloodstained shirt to the side.
“Jesus Christ.” I rubbed the back of my neck as I stared at Gio’s chest. There was a carving in the flesh just below his throat, the blood already drying up around it. “Is that what I think it is?”