Once I returned home, nothing changed. If anything, things had gotten worse, especially for me. I had two kinds of people looking for me – those who wanted to hire me for my services, which I refused to offer, and those who wished to kill me.

One night, I heard a gunshot buzz past my ear. I turned around and saw the glimmer of a handgun about ten yards away. I knew whoever it was that tried to kill me was an amateur. Any gunman knows you don't brandish a shiny pistol in the dark of night. At least, I thought anyone knew that – Maybe it's just me.

I had no fear. I felt confident and even a bit cocky. So much so that when I called the assailant out, I couldn't help but use an old Lee Marvin line – "Get out of that shadow, dude!"

The scumbag showed his face. I didn't recognize him, but no matter. As he raised his firearm toward me, it glared from the streetlight above. I fired a single shot into his chest. I turned away and walked quickly but calmly down a darkened street. By the time I had passed about two blocks, I could hear sirens in the short distance behind me.

As I continued down a dark alley, I could still smell the gunpowder of my firearm when I encountered another stranger, a bit friendlier than the guy who just tried to kill me, but that's not saying much. He stood directly in my path and asked, "Are you the one they call the peacekeeper?"

"Who told you that?"

"It's all over the neighborhood. People have seen you gun down some of the bad elements in town. You seem to fit the description. I want to offer you my sincere gratitude."

"And...?"

"And what?"

"You didn't stop me in the middle of a desolate street in the dead of night just to say thanks. What do you want?"

"Well, you see... it's my sister. She was..."

"That's enough! I don't want to hear it. I'm not a hired gun! Understand? Now get out of my way!"

"But, but... please. I just..."

"OUT!"

I was beginning to think I was better off in Frisco after all. What was I thinking coming back here? I had to get out before I suffered the consequences of my deeds.

As I kept walking, the police sirens in the distance resumed. They got louder as they seemed to head in my direction. I picked up my pace. Could they be after me? Maybe that last bum ratted me out. I kept walking even faster.

Two squad cars boxed me in on the narrow street, and a third entered my space from a side street. I had nowhere to go.

"Hands up and drop the weapon," demanded one. "We know who you are."

I was a dead man. Even if I didn't get the death penalty, someone would surely ice me in prison.

But I had another option.

Copyright © 2022 by Michael DeFrancesco