“Walking to the Prelude, I saw a piece of paper ripped from a spiral notebook fluttering under the driver’s-side windshield wiper. In black magic marker, the note read, YOUR DEAD, MR. P EYE. I opened the door of the car very deliberately, put the note on the passenger’s seat, and drove first to the condo. An hour later, I parked in the slanting space behind my office building, next to the dumpster with its usual overflow of garbage. Turning off the ignition, I pulled the Smith & Wesson Combat Ma...sterpiece with four-inch barrel from the holster worn cross-draw on my left side. Usually I prefer a two-inch Chief’s Special on the belt above my right buttock, but it’s tough to get into your hand from there while sitting in a car. Since the two-incher is also a less accurate weapon, it was hanging handle-down from a calf holster under my left pant leg. The belly-gun would be all right there as long as I didn’t try jogging. I sat and listened. Aside from the faint ticking of the engine after the bumper-to-bumper traffic from the condo, there were only the usual noises from Tremont Street around the corner.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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