Hollowed Out

Three Black and Tan’s later, Roberson had finished up.  He didn’t bother saying good-bye to Butters.  The old fool had his eye on some used up tramp at the other end of the bar anyway.  He had been married for thirty years before his wife committed suicide.  They claimed it was accidental, but Roberson figured she couldn’t stand listening to the old fool anymore.  He headed out the door as the Thursday crowd began to thin out.

Ah, the street found his nose- knishes.  He sucked it in.  Felt like devouring the inside of a few.  The two guards sat in their black Lincoln by the curb.  He nodded to them.  Forgot the knishes.  Walked on.  He owned a car of his own, but preferred to walk most places.  This was New York after all.  Of course, his bureau was outside the city, but on the weekends, he had no long commute.  Just his two bedroom apartment on the six floor of the Regency apartments in Soho.  Since this was Thursday and he’d been given the week off due to his two fellow agents being killed, his weekend was just starting.

Still, what was holding this killer back?

He pops Bundrage on Monday night and then gets Marcum on Tuesday morning.  How Roberson hadn’t met his maker by Tuesday night was a mystery.    Not only was he still alive, but he had been approached by no strange characters or even normal ones.  Hell, the local bums hadn’t even bothered him like they normally do.  The three had been good friends and if the killer was targeting them, he must have known.  Only maybe it had more to do with something only Bundrage and Marcum knew about.  They normally told Roberson everything especially since they had all worked at the same bureau the last seven years.  But maybe they were hiding something.  Well maybe they HAD been hiding something.

Roberson made it to his apartment.  As was protocol, the agents neither of whom he had ever seen before, escorted him inside.  They made the slow ascent in the elevator to the sixth floor.  Then through the hallway with the green walls and ugly green carpet to match.  The rent wasn’t high here for a reason.  The tenants paid another price with an assault on their taste.  They reached his door.

The first agent tapped twice.  Drawing his 9 mm he entered with back-up from his partner.  Roberson had left his own weapon in the room since he went to a bar.  He stood outside looking like the slightly drunk man who’d just had his world shattered.  He knew his face looked like hell from the last few sleepless nights.  Hollowed out.  And he really didn’t care at this point.





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