Chapter Fifty Eight
A little past 1:30 AM, the driver found Mal’s loft, pulled to the curb and parked.
After a brief chitchat, Oba paid the driver cash, tipped him more than handsomely, and moved to and through the iron and wooden doors of Mal’s loft.
As the iron door clanged shut, none of the happy threesome noticed a man lurking in the shadows of an alley mouth across the street.
Some men, when filled with a funnel vision kind of passion for what they did hardly ever slept, for as all men obsessed with their careers, the man watching, was the poster boy for such pathos.
Mal, of course knew the man and was about to get to know him much better and when he did, one of them perhaps would die.
Thus is the requiem for cops, lunatics, murders and artists when they move too and over the ed
