Blood and Mirrors

Lazily hung in his chair, Mr. Renalds reached down over his crossed legs for the cup of warm milk beside a mug of coffee, and gently poured a bit in, his eyes not leaving the crossword. Suddenly there was a creak of the floorboards outside, the equivalent of a doorbell for the small office of Renalds Private Investigations, yet the aforementioned PI didn't flinch.

The door opened and a somewhat stout man in pinstriped collar shirt and tweed overcoat, with a red tie as an accent, who Mathew Renalds immediately recognized as his younger brother as he set down the paper and put out his cigar.

"Hey, Joey. What brings you to this end of town, and please don't say 'business'."

"No, no, just a tip.  Heard it at the station an' thought you'd like ta' hear it first."

Mathew angled himself toward his brother and rested his arms on his knees.

"Go on…"

Joseph Renalds ambled towards the coat rack as he spoke.

"Gang of the Kingpin's planning something tonight. East and Perry, so I heard."

The expression on Mathew's face grew stiff and he spun his chair towards the window.

"Hmmm…"

The young Renalds walked directly in front of the desk and spoke a bit more tartly.

"'Hmm?' That's it? You ain't gonna head down there on some crazy escapade like you always do?"

"Joey, you do realize I can tell when you're lying, and that I already had my sources confirm South and Baxter."

"Really now? You gonna believe some street vendor over your own flesh and blood?"

Mathew spun back around in his chair to face his brother.

"When he's under the corrupt hand of Chief McKarnegie, I'd take any old hobo's tip first."

Joseph threw up his hands in defeat.

"Matt, you gotta understand, I'm just trying to keep you outta trouble with the kind of people you shouldn't be messing with."

"Joey, you know better than anyone that I can take care of myself."

Joseph shuffled toward the door and his coat, as he muttered under his breath.

"Precisely my concern…"

The door closed shut and the air conditioner clicked on with a loud raspy noise that echoed from deep within the building.  The remaining Mr. Renalds rubbed his temples and returned to his crosswords, relighting the half-burned cigar as well.  Smooth smoke was gently coaxed into the vent near the ceiling.

----

The clouds of the night blotted all but a halo of light from the moon, a mere dappled copy of it's true self.  The alleyway was dark and only the streetlights some feet away provided any ambient light to see by.  That and a small pinprick of glowing ember from a cigar.  A hand reached up and another cloud drifted up to block the moon, dissipating long before it's goal was reached.

The red neon sign at "Phil's Deli" shut off with an electric click and Matthew Renalds stepped forward out of the darkness of the alleyway, but still out of sight.  He remembered back to about an hour ago when he had spoken to Phil, the owner, and had confirmed his thoughts.  

The Kingpin had offered 'protection' but he had refused. He feared they were coming for him tonight. The grim news was ironic to the atmosphere of the deli, the smells of fresh bread and roasted meat bringing Mathew back to childhood memories of his mother and father's first house, accompanied by their two children and his mother's father.  Old Grandpa Snicklefrizt had lived there with his daughter rather than his childless son, Mathew's uncle. He was glad he was his mother's son rather than his uncle's, as 'Renalds' is a bit more respectable than 'Snicklefrizt'. But tonight Mr. Renalds, not Mr. Snicklefrizt, had work to do in helping Phil and the sake of his Deli, and hopefully get a lead onto the mysterious Kingpin.

Speak of the devil.

A pack of three men, each of medium height and sporting large jackets, one with a trench coat, silently stalked the street across from Renalds.  Making no appearance to have seen him, the men walked to the alleyway beside "Phil's Deli" towards to back entrance. Mathew reached for his Glock, cocked it, then returned it to his jacket's inside pocket. He dropped the cigar into a puddle and was across the street before it meekly hissed and when out and the smoke had gently risen from the surface of the water.

The scene was unfolding before Mr. Renalds' eyes as he spied them: Jacket One and Two holding Phil up against the wall with Trench Coat intimidating the poor man.  He turned rapidly when he caught Mathew's silhouette in the corner of his eye.  Matthew spoke.

"Hey, get off him."

A short glance and a quick nod between the pack, and Jackets One and Two shoved off Phil, who scuttled off inside his deli, and went to deal with the unexpected interloper.  The two pounced towards Mathew, who didn't flinch.

Instead what he did was elbow Jacket One in the face, breaking his nose with one arm, knocking him unconscious with his other fist.  Jacket Two managed to swing a punch, only to have Matthew duck down and slam him in the gut, leaving Jacket Two with no wind.  He staggered as Mathew grabbed him by the collar with both hands, pinning him against the wall.

Mr. Renalds' right had raised to make a fist, but something caught the light from the corner of his eye in Trench Coat's hand.  A gleam of metal, a miniscule click, and a momentous bang shook Mathew's frame as he felt a burning slug dig into his shoulder.  He dropped down, groaning in pain and releasing Jacket Two, who came down with him.

Several windows became illuminated at the sound of gunshot, prompting Trench Coat to yell out at Jacket Two to wake up and leave.  They both left, one tripping up behind the other, leaving the whimpering figure of Mathew Renalds in the alleyway, a stream of deep crimson dripping down his shoulder. His thoughts raced:

Oh God, oh God, oh God... There's so much blood! I'd been shot at before in the Academy, but I'd never actually gotten hit! Jesus, the burning pain…GAAH…It's not going to be fatal, but there's so much blood… Oh God, there's so much blood- So much of my blood! Oh God, oh God, oh God…

Sirens filled the air as blackness ebbed its way into Mr. Renalds' sight...