They Call Me...Montey Greene

Chapter Thirty Three

THE METALLIC SILVER Fiat Doblo had pulled into the spot just vacated by a florist delivery truck. The chairs Annette usually sat in watching the days go by were empty.

"I thought you told her to be outside?"

"I did. She also said that if were late, her friend would come take her."

"Friend?"

"She probably meant the driver," Montey told Daniel.

Annette and Daniel looked at each other curiously before looking at Montey as if he should be telling them something that they should know.

Montey countered the inquisitive looks on their faces with, "Hey don't look at me. Ya'll the ones that said she was like a mother to ya'll. I thought you knew."

"Call her again," Daniel told Annette.

Annette dialed Maria's number once. Then hit the redial button two more times. "It's busy," said she.

"Montey do me a favor?" Daniel asked. "When you run inside can you knock on Maria's door and tell her we're out here."

"Bet."

"And don't forget to let us know what time you're leaving," he yelled behind Montey as she stepped out the vehicle. "Busy?" he rhetorically asked Annette again.

Even before Montey got all the way to Maria's door he could see it was open. He knocked on it anyway. Called out for her—nothing. Then that little voice in your head that tells you to go left and not right directed his feet upstairs.

He bounded the steps two-three at a time. The minute his foot hit the second floor landing he noticed the small drops of blood on the floor. He looked back down the flight of stairs he just ran up to see the same blood stains.

Montey bent down and wiped his finger across one of the blood stains. When it smeared, the fate-changer that Alejandra stashed in his bag appeared in his hand with the hammer cocked. If blood stains that small smeared when he touched it then he knew that whoever was bleeding passed in this hallway recently.

His mind flashed to that florists' delivery truck that pulled away just seconds before they pulled up not even five minutes ago. Then the sound of the elevator descending caught his ear.

Montey scurried back to the staircase. Pressed his back against the wall as he stood on the first step. From this angle he could see whoever was coming out of the elevator, but they would have to be almost at the lobby door before they saw him. Montey waited with baited breath for someone to step out when the elevator doors opened after it finally jerked to a stop on the ground floor. When no one did, he immediately cast his eyes to the floors above him and began ascending the steps again.

When Montey hit the third floor landing he stopped. From where he stood he let his eyes follow the trail of blood drops, but he was too far away to see exactly where they originated from. Larger blood drops appeared to be further down the hall where light from another open apartment door was illuminating part of that end of the hallway. He did the mental math. That was his doorway, but he knew damn well that he hadn't left the door ajar.

Staying close to the wall he made his way down the hall to see the blood stains on the floor changed patterns going from blood drops to larger blood splatters the closer he got to his flat. Then he heard it, a slight gurgle-groan sound that would haunt him for many-a-days to come

He hesitated his advance, stole a look down the hallway again prior to slowly pushing the door open with his gun leveled at the ready. The bloodied footless shoe pointing upwards and the blood splattered flesh colored stocking cemented his worst fears before he even stepped over the threshold.

Maria was sprawled out on the floor sideways in a pool of blood, her blood soaked hands clutched against the side of her midsection. His eyes quick-scanned what he could see of the apartment. His ears peeled back trying to detect any sound of a perpetrator still about as he knelt down to check for a pulse. That's when he noticed the cordless phone lying next to her.

Maria's pulse was weak but still strong enough for him to warrant peeling off his jacket to place under her head so she could breathe a little easier. He didn't notice the blood starting to trickle down the corner of her mouth as he was already up on his feet checking his flat just to make sure he had no more surprises waiting for him.

It was only a matter of seconds before Montey found himself rushing back to Maria's side with a handful of towels. He dropped to his knees. Placed a folded white towel beneath Maria's hand and the wound. Applied more pressure hoping to stem the flow of blood.

He was surprised by how little she winced.

As the blood oozed up between Maria's fingers turning the white towels pink Montey reached for his cellphone. Instead, Maria reached up clutching his wrist with her blood soaked hand. "Po...policia," she gulped, motioning no with a slight shake of her head. "I go see my Michael now. Paris is beautiful this time of year," she whispered to him in Italian as she placed an object into his hand.

He didn't have to check her pulse again or put his ear to her mouth to see if she was breathing.

Whoever said dead men don't tell tales should have added that the eyes of dead women do, for when he looked into Maria's he felt the lifelessness of them gazing through him as if she were trying to tell him who murdered her. It was an eerie feeling, a sight that would be entrenched in his psyche for untold years to come.

Though the guilt he now felt was immediate, it wasn't as immediate as the gasp he heard when he trained his gun on the doorway and saw Annette and Daniel standing there.