1 Fatal Beginning

Larry

I'm sitting on a street corner cold and hungry, watching people pass me by. The sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked pastries lingers in the air as the city roars to life. Closing my eyes, I savor the delightful smells. Oh, what I'd give for just a taste of the delicious hot treats. They'd be so warm, so refreshing. Last night had been bitterly cold, one I barely survived.

My mind drifts back to when I took morning coffee for granted. Back in time when I had it all. Oh, how I wish I had all of that again. Raising my old, tired bones off the ground, I stumble towards the crowd.

A wealthy young lady who's trying hard not to acknowledge my existence catches my eye. I usually would approach someone like her, but I'm in dire need of some liquid warmth and something to fill my empty belly. "Can you spare a quarter, Ma'am?"

With a look of disgust on her face, she wraps the mink around herself, lifts her nose, and then steps away.

Her expensive perfume nearly knocks me over when she hurries past. She probably doesn't even know what a quarter is. Chuckling, I turn to find a businessman heading my way.

"Can you spare a quarter, sir?"

He gives me the same look the lady did, like I was crap on his shoes. "Get a job," he grumbles, pushing me away.

My arthritic body collides against the concrete wall bringing me to tears. I know I don't look like much to them, with my long gray hair, straggly beard, and filthy, threadbare clothes. If only I could explain what's happened to me, maybe then they'd understand that I'm not the bitter old man they think I am, without a life or a purpose. I had a home, a loving family until it was ruthlessly snatched away.

My nightmare began on a cold blizzard day in early February. I was sitting in my office enjoying a victory drink when a sloven young man stumbles through the door. His cheap brown suit fit snugly around his thick body. The vast amount of wrinkles it housed gave the impression that he'd slept in it for weeks. By the condition of his dark scraggly hair, I'd say it hadn't been brushed in some time.

"Hey Larry, how are you?" he asks, scratching his scruffy beard.

The moment I saw him, I knew I'd seen his face on an America's Most Wanted. Frightened, I slip my hand inside the desk drawer and feel for my gun. "Who are you, and what do you want?" I demand, grabbing hold of the pistol.

"Is that any way to treat an old friend?" Stepping into the room, he closes the door behind him.

My stomach balls up into a large hard knot when the barrier slams closed. Sweat pops out across my forehead and around my neck. "I...I don't know you."

"You don't remember your old pal from college?"

"N...No."

He takes a step closer. "I remember you. I also recall you owing me a favor."

I try to cock my gun, but my hand trembles so severely that I drop it in the drawer. "I... I don't owe you anything." I stutter, fishing for my weapon. "So, I'd advise you to get out of my office before I have you thrown out!" I add, hoping to sound more authoritative than I feel.

"Have you forgotten about your girlfriend?" he asks, continuing towards me. Amusement danced in his eyes when he throws something on my desk.

I look down to find a photo of Debbie Myers lying on a table at the morgue. Memories of the horrendous evening flash through my mind. I picture her lying dead on the cold hard ground. Her blood splattered across the fallen leaves.

"I have proof that will put you away for a very long time he says, with a cold shrewd smirk on his face.

I thought that I'd covered my tracks, but anyone who's ever watched crime shows knows you can never be too sure. Then again, I wouldn't put it past a low life like him to bluff. "How do I know you're not trying to run a con?"

"You want proof. Here I'll show you my proof." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a vanilla envelope. "Take a look at them and then tell me that I'm trying to scam you."

I pull out a hand full of photos.

"So that you know, these are copies. The originals and the negatives are locked in a safe. My brother will take them to the cops if something happens to me."

The first picture shows Debbie and me driving through town. The next is the two of us in the woods, rifles in hand. The third is me running to my car covered in blood. Realizing a stay bullet had hit her, I did everything I could to save her. The moment she passed, I ran.

"A picture is worth a thousand words, wouldn't you say?" He chuckles.

My hands begin to tremble, my insides quiver. "W... Where did you get these?"

"Let's just say big brother is always watching." He winks.

Looking at the pictures again, I mutter the next logical question. "W.. what do you want from me?"

Smiling, he snatches the pictures out of my hands. "I want you to represent my nephew in his murder trial, pro bono, of course."

"Why... Why did you pick me?"

"I heard you're the best." He shakes the pictures. "If you refuse, these photos will make their way to the cops along with your gun. He hands me another photo. "Your gun didn't quite make it to the lake."

The moment he said that I knew what I had to do. So I did what any other sensible lawyer would do, I took the case. "When do you want us to meet?"

"I'll bring him by tomorrow. Just so you know, if this thing goes south for any reason, not only will you serve time in prison, your

wife and kid will end up like Debbie." He runs his finger across his throat.

That, my dear friend, was the beginning of the end for me.