DISCLAIMER: This story was written and published in 2012 and has been kept up to show the writer’s growth. It is not intended as professional quality
I would learn about the killer’s next move some time after the case was finished….he had confessed to everything.
Vito Lombardi was one of the richest men in Chicago. He was a Captain in the Lombardi Crime Family, serving only under his Father, Bruno Lombardi. Vito was next in line for head of the family…a position he highly anticipated.
It was one twenty-three in the morning when the killer struck. He walked up the front lawn at this ungodly hour. It was silent save for the sharp chirping of crickets. The killer felt the dew on his shoes slip through onto his skin. He finally approached Vito’s front porch. A butler answered the door and a few quiet words were exchanged. Soon after the killer balled his hand into a fist and thrust it into the butler’s stomach. He withdrew a Glock from his leather jacket and rammed it against the Butler’s head. The mansion had a huge front room with a spiral staircase off the right. He took cover behind it swiftly and fired a shot to attract attention. He smiled wickedly to himself. He had planned it perfectly. All the men he wanted were in the mansion…all he had to do was pull the trigger. A loud bang was heard attracting two men to the front door towards the unconscious butler.
“Jeeze, what happened to him?” one of them asked, his Bronx accent thickening the words.
“Someone’s broken in…” his voice trailed off as a circle of red widened underneath his white buttoned down shirt. He tore it apart to find a bullet hole. “Oh damn.” he muttered, and he collapsed to the floor limply.
The man’s comrade withdrew his gun and turned around, shouting, “WHO’S THERE?” into the large mansion. With the twitch of a finger a bullet spiraled through the air and sliced through the man, who staggered backwards and crashed to the floor. A pool of blood widened underneath him.
Meanwhile, Vito was filled with rage. “SOMEONE FIND OUT WHAT’S HAPPENING DOWN THERE!” he roared with lion-like fury. “SOMEONE’S DOWN THERE! TAKE HIM OUT!” Vito turned bowed his head and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. His three hundred pound figure shook with fear. He was an old man of fifty three; too old to fight for himself. Instead his seven bodyguards rushed down the steps.
The killer smiled to himself when he heard Vito’s fear. He had bugged the room long ago for his own satisfaction. His lips curled up into a sinister smile when he heard the sound of the bodyguards rushing down the steps. He had timed it perfectly. The explosives were ready.
With the press of a button half the wall flew outward, taking most of the bodyguards with them. One was set ablaze and other soared through the air. Midst the confusion he fired three more shots to take out the remaining bodyguards.
With a mighty kick the Vito’s door flung off it’s hinges. Smoke from the explosion billowed into the room and the acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air. Two of Vito’s bodyguards withdrew guns. Not fast enough, however, as they were both shot before they could fire.
“YOU!” Vito cried. “I KNOW YOU!”
The killer pressed forward slowly. Vito backed away and the killer paced forward. “Yes you do,” he hissed, “but I know you never thought I’d be capable of this.”
At that point during the confession, he admitted that a certain part of that night was a blur. He was blinded by rage enough so that what happened next was a blur….the next thing the killer remembered was Vito waking up strapped to a chair. The fireplace crackled and danced providing the only light in the room. The killer sat on the other end of the room with a pen and notepad.
“What’s going on…?” Vito slurred, half asleep.
The killer looked down at his notepad and jotted down notes. He looked up and coolly asked him “Tell me about your first killing.” his eyes were like ice.
“I ain’t answering nothing…” he slurred.
The killer’s eye twitched. He began to noticeably shake. In one fluid motion he stood up and gripped a prong form the fireplace against Vito’s forehead. A hissing of the burning was drowned out by Vito’s cry of agony. The killer leaned in close and shouted at him. “I TOLD YOU…TELL ME ABOUT YOUR FIRST KILLING!”
As it turns out, Vito first killed a rat to the Lombardi family at the tender age of sixteen. He had done everything from petty Larsen to the killing of a family….and the killer took notes on everything. When he finished his interrogation he put a chunk of lead through Vito’s brain.
The killer calmly paced out of the house making no noise…with the exception of a final gunshot to the Butler’s head