I had just begun taking off my jacket when the door quietly opened and two men slipped swiftly into the room.
One was Frankie. The other I was seeing for the first time and not liking what I saw. Both were armed. Frankie had changed his toy for a mansized .38, which he held in his gloved right hand.
No one spoke a word. The stranger tilted his gun toward the center of my face. Frankie swung his at the girl on the bed, planted his feet solidly, and fired five times into her body.
Frankie dropped the .38 to the floor and the two of them backed out of the room. The door was quietly closed.
I walked over quickly, crouched down, looked at the gun.
It was mine.
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