Patty decided it was best to do what he wanted and she walked mechanically toward the gate. She hoped the children would be safe until someone realized she was gone.
He told her to walk to her apartment, and threatened to shoot anyone who got in their way.
It was a fifteen-minute walk to Unity Street, and Patty was relieved when she didn’t see anyone she knew along the way. When they reached her block, she began wondering what he wanted if he wasn’t there to kill her. Maybe, she thought, with a sinking heart, he planned something worse than death?
She opened the door to her apartment building and he followed her inside. They began the three-flight climb to her apartment. She wondered if she could fight him off. He looked strong. The odds were against her. But what did she have to lose?
The staircase was empty and it was him or her. She stopped at the second landing and he prodded her from below. Patty turned quickly, put a foot on his chest, and pushed. He went airborne and tumbled down the stairs. She ran to the third landing. By the time she reached her door she heard his running footsteps. She fumbled for the keys in her bag, crying in frustration when she could not find them.
“Come on. Come ON!” She shouted and finally, “There they are.”
Her heart was pounding and sweat was in her eyes when she took out the key ring.
“Shit.”
School keys, car keys, mail box key, storage locker key.
“Damn,” she muttered. “Here they are.”
She put the key in the lock, turned it, and heard it click open.
“Thank God.”
She pushed but the door didn’t budge. She had locked both locks this morning. She found the second key, missed the keyhole twice, located it, and turned the key. She twisted the doorknob and the door opened.
Chapter 22
We Control Nothing
Monday, September 16, 1974
Seconds Later
Patty stepped inside just as the man grabbed her from behind. They both tumbled through the open door into the empty apartment, knocking over an end table that held a lamp and the phone. Patty hit the hardwood floor face-first and he fell on top of her. His glasses and his hairpiece fell off. He grabbed her hair with both hands and banged her forehead on the floor, twice. She went out. He stood up, hurried to the front door, and secured both locks. He put his disguise back on and rolled Patty onto her back. There was blood streaming down her forehead.
“Damn,” he said, noticing his hands were shaking. He took a deep breath, picked her up, and tossed her on the bed. He removed rope from his jacket and tied her hands and ankles spread-eagle to the bed frame. He removed a sharp object from his pocket and lowered it to her face. When it touched her cheek, he pressed down hard. Soon her face was covered in red.
When Patty awoke she was disoriented. Her eyes cleared slowly, and she recognized the ceiling in her bedroom. Her head was on a pillow. She was on her bed. There was a gag in her mouth. She tried to get up but couldn’t. She twisted her head side-to-side and saw that her hands and ankles were tied to the bed frame.
He was sitting in a chair by the side of the bed, staring at her. His shotgun was across his lap. She could tell his beard and hair were fake, but his dark sunglasses hid his eyes. She took a deep breath and tried not to cry.
“Listen to me,” he said in his soft, raspy voice, which reminded her of Marlon Brando’s Godfather voice. “You know who I am, and that I am a killer. Now I want to tell you why I kill, and I want you to tell your husband. Do you understand?”
She nodded and Gianni began to talk. The more he spoke, the more pronounced his Italian accent became. He told her his entire story without using names or locations. He showed her the picture of his family. “All dead, all murdered,” he said.
When he finished, he leaned back in his chair and looked at Patty. “So now you understand,” he said. “I am killing these people to avenge my family, and when it’s done … it’s done. Your husband is a very smart man and could interfere with what I must do. I cannot allow that to happen and will be forced to kill him if he gets in my way. I don’t want to do that. I came here today only to show you how everything you love can be taken from you in an instant, like it was taken from me. I could have killed you or your husband many times. I still can. I am invisible. You are in plain sight, easy to eliminate. Do you understand all I have said?”
She nodded.
“Would you like to say anything to me?” he asked.
She nodded again.
“If I remove your gag do you promise not to scream?”
At her third nod he removed the gag from her mouth.
“You don’t have to worry about killing my husband,” she said. “You do have to worry about him killing you.”
“Man-to-man, he would not stand a chance against me,” Gianni said.
“I’ll tell him you said that,” Patty told him. “I’ll tell him everything you said. But it won’t make any difference. He’ll still come after you. He can’t be threatened or intimidated. He risks everything, every day, to do the right thing.”
“What is the right thing?” Gianni rasped. “If I kill you, what would he do?”
“He’d hunt you down and destroy you,” Patty said.
“So we are not so different,” Gianni said, putting the gag in her mouth again. He loosened the ropes on her wrists. “You should be able to work your way out of these knots in about a half hour. I’m sorry I hurt your head.”
He walked to the door and turned back to her. “You look just like my sisters did the last time I saw them,” he said, and he was gone.
It took nearly the full half hour for her to struggle free. She tore the gag from her mouth and sat up. She smelled the fear emanating from her pores and the urine soaking the mattress between her legs. She was unaware that she had wet herself, and she was disgusted. She retched and nearly vomited but managed to keep it down. She walked unsteadily to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and screamed. Her face was covered with red drawings of bullet holes with blood dripping from them.
You look just like my sisters did the last time I saw them.
“Oh my God,” she said, to her reflection.
Patty walked to the bathroom door and locked it. She filled the tub with scalding water, stepped in, and immersed herself despite the searing heat. She sat motionless, thinking:
Life can change in an instant—alive one moment, dead the next—victor to victim in a heartbeat. Safety is an illusion.
Patty’s eyelids grew heavy as heat and despair weighed her down.
We control nothing, she thought, closing her eyes, overwhelmed by the need to rest. She slid under the water and descended to the bottom.
Chapter 23
Man-to-Man
Monday, September 16, 1974
3:20 P.M.
Eddie received a call at the station from the day care center telling him that Patty had disappeared. One of the five-year-olds said he saw her talking to a man near the playground and walking away with him. He said the man had a dark beard and was wearing black sunglasses. Eddie called the apartment but got a busy signal. He called an operator, told her it was a police emergency, and ordered her to verify the busy signal.
“Sorry sir,” the operator told him after a few minutes. “That phone seems to be off the hook.”
“That phone is never off the hook,” Eddie shouted, slamming down the phone. “Mickey, drive me home. Use the siren.”
Mickey double-parked outside the building and Eddie dashed inside. He hobbled up the stairs to the third floor. The door to their apartment was unlocked and he rushed in, drawing his Glock at the same time. He saw the tipped-over table, the lamp and the telephone on the hardwood, and the bloodstain nearby. He moved to the bedroom, where he saw the rope and the yellow stain on the bed. He felt nauseous but remained calm. The bathroom door was locked and he rammed it open with his shoulder.
He saw Patty in the bathtub, under the water, motionless. He saw red all over her face and o
n the water’s surface. “No!” he screamed, and turned his back. He couldn’t look at her dead. Not his Patty. He had never dreamed she would die before he did. He was the violent one with no regard for his own safety. Patty was the gentle one who never hurt anyone.
He knew the man with the beard that the kids had seen was the Shotgun Man in disguise.
“I’m going to hunt you down and kill you,” Eddie said aloud, as red spots exploded in front of his eyes. He punched the wall and his fist went through the plasterboard halfway up to his elbow. He pulled his right arm free and punched with his left fist and got the same result. He punched again and again and again. He kicked, driving his shoe through the wall. He picked the lamp off the floor and heaved it against another wall. It crashed to the floor in pieces. He grabbed the phone and was about to heave it through a glass window when he heard a voice say, “Stop!”
He turned toward the bedroom and saw Patty standing in the doorway with her arms crossed in front of her chest and her white bathrobe tied tightly around her waist.
“What are you doing, Eddie?”
He ran to her, threw his arms around her shoulders, and hugged her tightly.
“Too hard,” she gasped. “You’re hurting me.”
He let her go, stepped back, and looked at her. “I thought you were dead,” he said.
She put her head on his shoulder. “I felt dead when I looked in the mirror,” she told him. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“I’m right here,” he said. “Tell me what happened.”
She told him and held him in her arms. He clenched his jaw with anger as he listened to all she had gone through. She told him what the Shotgun Man had said about her looking like his dead sisters, and then added, “He said you would never stand a chance against him, man-to-man.”
“Is that so?” Eddie said, gritting his teeth. “We’ll see about that. Now why didn’t you call me right away?”
“I was too upset to talk to you,” she said. “I filled the tub with boiling hot water and got in. The heat didn’t bother me. It was so comforting I held my breath and went under the water. I felt safe down there, and only came up for air. When the water cooled, I added more hot water and went back under. I tried to wash my face. I must have done that for an hour. I was underwater and didn’t hear you break down the door.”
“Let’s put you in bed so you can rest,” he said.
“We’ll have to change the sheets,” she said.
“I’ll do it, you rest.”
She sat on the sofa. “I can’t believe we’re living in the middle of this vendetta,” Patty said.
“Actually, we’re living at the end of it,” Eddie said.
Chapter 24
I’m Here If You Need Me
Monday, September 16, 1974
11:00 P.M.
Mickey parked his car a block down from Shannon’s house, still thinking about Patty and Eddie. He had gone up to the apartment this afternoon when Eddie didn’t come out for a long time. He knocked on the door and Eddie answered. He looked concerned and Patty looked upset. The apartment was a wreck, which wasn’t like them. Had they been fighting? That wasn’t like them either.
“What’s with the red on your face, Patty?” Mickey asked. “Halloween’s not for a few weeks.”
They insisted everything was fine, and Mickey knew Eddie would tell him what was going on when he was ready. “Call me if you need me,” he said, and closed the door.
Mickey got back in his car and drove to Southie, where he replaced Shannon’s bodyguard.
Mickey knocked on Shannon’s front door and smiled when she opened it.
“Hi Shannon,” Mickey said, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be outside watching your house tonight in case your husband causes trouble.”
“You okay, Ma?” a voice asked, and a tall teenage boy appeared behind her, looking him over.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Mickey O’Toole, this is my son, Sean. Mickey’s a policeman, Sean.”
“You the one who broke my father’s nose?” Sean asked, stoically.
“No, that was someone else,” Mickey said.
Sean turned and walked away.
“He’s very upset,” Shannon said.
“Does he know what’s going on?”
“He knows about everything,” she said.
“How does he feel about it?”
“He doesn’t say, and he’s hard to read,” she told him.
“Well, I’ll be here if you need me,” Mickey said, and started to leave.
“Mickey, can I say something personal to you?” she asked.
His face flushed and his heart raced. “Sure,” he said.
“I think you’re a great guy. But I’m a married woman and can’t have a second man in my life,” she said. “It’s just not the way I am, and I wanted you to know that.”
She was so open and honest Mickey’s nervousness faded. “I wouldn’t want to be the second man in your life,” he said. “It’s not the way I am either.”
He walked away before she could answer.
Sean Collins sat on the living room sofa near the front of the house. He had heard every word they’d said.
Chapter 25
Mickey! Duck!
Tuesday, September 17, 1974
12:45 A.M.
Mickey leaned against his car and watched Shannon’s house from across the street. It was after midnight and the temperature had dropped. He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. The lights were out in the row of houses on both sides of the street. Mickey knew he could not guard Shannon’s house every night, but he figured the first couple of nights would be the most dangerous.
He got off the car and walked toward Shannon’s house, stretching his legs. He thought about Patty and Eddie again and wished he could help with whatever was bothering them.
He sensed the running footsteps before he heard them, and was removing his gun from the shoulder holster when lightning went off in his head. The gun flew from his hand and he dropped like a stone, hitting the side of his face on the pavement. Still conscious, he felt a blow to his left shoulder and instinctively rolled to the right. He knew he was being hit by a heavy object like a lead pipe or a baseball bat, and when he was on his back he covered his face with his arms. He took a tremendous blow to his forearms.
“Son of a bitch,” Mickey heard Bobby Collins say in his deep voice, as his arms were hit again.
Mickey knew he wouldn’t survive another blow to the head, so he kept his arms over his face. My gun. Where the fuck is my gun?
He rolled in the direction of his attacker’s voice until his body collided with Bobby’s legs. Instinctively he rolled again into the man’s shins like a football blocker. The man went down. Still groggy, Mickey clawed his way up the man’s large body, following Bobby’s “Son of a bitch” curses. He slammed his fist into the source. The man howled. Before Mickey could deliver another blow, he was knocked off balance by two enormous hands pounding his chest.
Mickey fell on his back and rolled away again. He opened his eyes but could only see shadows. He thought he saw his attacker stand up so he kicked his foot in that direction. The heel of his shoe hit a leg and he heard the man grunt. Mickey managed to get from off his back and onto his hands and knees, and he scrambled away.
“I’m gonna kill you,” the man said. A blow to the middle of Mickey’s back sent him sprawling face-first, his arms outstretched in front of him.
“Arrest me, try to fuck my wife, huh?” the voice rumbled again. Mickey tried to crawl on his stomach but was struck on the back a second time … just as his fingertips touched something familiar.
My gun.
He grasped the handle, found the trigger, rolled to his right, and aimed the gun. The bat crashed against Mickey’s wrist and it went numb. He couldn’t tell if the gun was still in his hand or not. He was dizzy and confused, losing consciousness. He tried to raise his broken arm but didn’t know
if it moved or not. He couldn’t feel anything in that area.
Pull the trigger, he told himself, and tried to wiggle his fingers. He was drifting away. Pull the goddamn trigger.
A shot exploded from Mickey’s gun. “Good,” he said.
He heard a thud as Bobby Collins fell to the ground.
Mickey’s arm dropped limply and he heard his gun clatter on the sidewalk. Lights went on in the houses up and down the street as Mickey O’Toole’s light went out.
Chapter 26
A Thick Skull
Tuesday, September 17, 1974
8:30 A.M.
The next morning Patty told Eddie she would prefer to be left alone. “Call me,” she said.
Eddie was greeted with the bad news as soon as he walked into the squad room. Mickey—Mass General—hit on the head—a bat, may be brain damage—critical condition—Collins dead—Mickey’s gun.
Eddie called Patty and gave her the news. She cried.
He was in the waiting room at Mass General by ten. Peggy and Ryan O’Toole, Mickey’s parents, were there. Neither spoke to him, and their glares were reminiscent of how Mickey had looked at him the first day they met.
The Boston police force is an Irish tradition.
Dr. David Levey, Mickey’s neurosurgeon, entered the room and introduced himself.
“Mickey was hit on the head with a baseball bat, causing closed head trauma,” he told them. “That means his skull wasn’t fractured.”
“Mickey has a very thick skull,” Eddie said.
“What kind of thing is that to say?” Peggy O’Toole asked.
“Well, he does,” Eddie said. “And he’s got a twenty-one-inch neck and incredibly fast reflexes. He probably rolled with the blow and minimized the impact. He’s a tough guy.”
“Yes he is,” Ryan O’Toole said, somewhat mollified. Peggy remained stone-faced.
“He has internal bleeding in his head, and his brain is swollen,” the doctor continued. “I had to open a small window in his skull to drain the blood and relieve the pressure. We have to wait and see how he responds.”
Eddie the Kid Page 7