Laura opened the door to the flat where she lived with her crippled mother. She entered, leaned against the doorframe, and sighed deeply.
He'd been good, that chimp. A great dancer, a swell guy. She was ashamed she'd embarassed him and nearly got him killed. Well, she'd managed to save his overcoat, an expensive one by the look and heft of it.
Well, she'd track him down and return it. Maybe even...nah, no need speculating there. She dropped it on the chair with a clunk.
Clunk?
Laura looked through the pockets and found what made it so heavy.
Maybe he wasn't the chimp he seemed. She hadn't seen that much firepower since she'd walked by Ft. Sheridan during the Saturday afternoon parade. Her eyes widened at the tommy gun.
"Laura? Honey?" came her mother's quavering voice from the bedroom.
"Yes, mom, it's me," she responded.
"RUN! Get away!" her mother screamed. "They want to kill...." There was a dull thud and the door to the bedroom was flung open. In the doorway stood a Howler with a .44 Special.
"Okay, sister," he said.
A burst from the tommy chopper cut him down where he stood, nearly cutting him in half before Laura let go of the trigger.
She gazed at the crumpled body and at the floor reddening with Howler blood.