Free King of Spades by Frederick Manfred Page A

his double-barrel shotgun in hand.
    â€œYou see!” Magnus cried. “My nightmares don’t lie.”
    Roddy raised his shotgun and fired.
    Magnus ducked back. A blast of pellets knocked his hat off. Magnus started to lose his balance. “Son! Hey, it’s all right. It’s only—”
    The second blast caught Magnus as he fell on the bed. The pellets traversed the length of his body, ripping his Chesterfield coat to shreds, gouging lines across his face. He landed across Kitty’s body.
    Neighbors heard the shooting. They came running in the dark. Bodies hesitated a second on the front stoop and the back stoop both; then burst in.
    There was blood all over the place: on the bed, on the wall above the bed, on the bedroom floor, in the hall, in the kitchen.
    â€œIn the name of God!”
    More came running out of the night.
    â€œPoor poor boy. Ahhh.”
    Herman Bell pushed in. “Son, my God, you didn’t shoot your own mother, did you?”
    Roddy stared back with scared green eyes. “Dad did.”
    â€œWho shot your dad?”
    â€œI did.”
    â€œCall the doctor, somebody!” a voice cried. “Hurry, hurry!”
    â€œBut it’s the doctor who’s dead!” another voice cried.
    â€œMaybe we should just call the Reverend,” a third voice said.
    Herman Bell’s red nubbed face stiffened over. “No use in calling him.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI’m afraid they’re both in hell by now. The Kings never went to church.”
    â€œWhat a terrible thing to say.”
    Gooseberry June came running in. She stared at the fallen bloody bodies. She clapped hand to mouth. Her black plum eyes rolled up in horror. “Ai-ai-ai!” Slowly she backed away. “What the Knife Child has done.” She ran back to her encampment.
    A pool-hall bum also had a look. “Well, so they have both went to their eternal roost, I see.”
    Undertaker McVicker appeared. With a single glance his old glittering vulture eyes took everything in. “What happened here?”
    â€œI guess Magnus went nuts and shot his wife,” Herman Bell said. “Then the boy shot his father.”
    â€œWhat’d Magnus want to do that for?”
    â€œI think he thought she’d gone bad.”
    â€œKitty?”
    â€œMac,” Herman Bell said, “if you know of anything between the lids of the Bible that will meet this case, I wish you would name it. Because I don’t.”
    â€œYes,” Mrs. Herman Bell cried. “I believe somebody ought to pray over this.” She folded her fat arms over her rolling bosom.
    Undertaker McVicker made an instant survey of the crowd, and decided that to offer a prayer was the thing to do. He folded his hands and bowed his head. “Great heavenly Father. What a fearful thing this is that we have been called upon here to witness. It’s a thing upon which a strong man can hardly look without a thrill of horror.” As hismouth moved, McVicker’s gray whiskers glinted in the light of the kerosene lamp. “We have here a case of a man who, from all we have heard, accused his wife of infidelity, who charged her with improper relations with men, when the truth is, a man would’ve had to be mad to think such things about her. We all knew her personal and we call state for a fact that that’s a dirty flat lie. So I say personal it’s a case of plain ordinary cool deliberate murder done in the heat of passion. May the arm of heavenly justice properly punish the dastardly assassin. Father, we commend the soul of the woman into your care. Father, look down in love upon this poor tortured innocent boy. We know he knew not what he did. Amen.”
    â€œBut where is the boy?” billowy Mrs. Herman Bell cried.
    Herman Bell looked around. “Gone.”
    Â 
    All the while that the neighbors were milling about, Roddy was running across town.
    â€œI’m a murderer. Just