After the closing arguments from both lawyers, the jurors went to discuss. They were in the back for a few hours, but when they came back, it was news that no one wanted to hear.
A hung jury.
The people didn’t want to hear that at all. The judge was talking about how they will reschedule, and try to gather more evidence for the case. Of course, it was hard to hear him over the sounds of the people yelling about the “bullshit case” and how “it was rigged”. Spector watched as A.I.M.s lawyers used a side door to leave. He then looked at the jurors, studying them. Some looked calm, while the others, they had a look of complete fear. Something had happened back there, and he was going to find out what.
Starting with the lawyer.
The night was calm, clouds forming to show that a storm was coming. The news said it wouldn’t be anything major, just a little rain. Mr. Knight found his way to the apartment building that the lawyer where the lawyer was living.
He found a way to the back door, dressed in a completely white tux and a white mask, with a crescent moon on the forehead. He was able to sneak past anyone that maybe out in the hall, which was a grand total of two teens, making out. He was sure he could walk right past and they wouldn’t care.
He made a way to the upper floor, where the “important” people live. Thanks to a “friend”, he was able to find out which apartment belonged to the lawyer.
“Well now, Mr. Goodman, let’s see what you are hiding.” He whispered, getting ready to pick the lock. Once he put his hand on the door, it opened easily. Mr. Knight raised an eyebrow as pushed the door open all the way.
It was clear that a struggle took place. A window was opened, the couch was turned over, papers everywhere. Mr. Knight walked around the room, deep in thought.
“It’s clear something happened here.” Spector said, inside a mirror.
“Yes.” Mr. Knight nodded as he looked at the mirror, seeing Spector instead of his own reflection. “But there is a problem.”
“What?” Spector asked.
“If the window is open, why was the door unlocked. After everything that happened in court today, he would be insane to leave his door unlocked.” Mr. Knight said as walked to a back room. “No, this was all done on purpose. But why?” He asked, opening the bedroom door.
Goodman was there, a bat on the ground, blood splattered all over the room, the bat, and what used to be Goodman’s face.
“Well, isn’t that lovely?” Spector asked, now in Mr. Knight’s head.
“Another issue. If you are trying to sell a beating,” he walked over and turned Goodman’s head, “why would you shoot him in his head?” He asked, then picked up the bat, studying it.
“This is sloppy work.” Mr. Knight said as he study the area. “Probably the first time the “hitman” has killed anyone.”
“If A.I.M. hired the killer, why not get a pro?” Spector asked.
“Simple, the killer wouldn’t be able to sell them out.” Mr. Knight said and walked to the open window. “Just as I thought.” He said, reaching down, pulling up a pistol. “They just tossed the gun out, didn’t check for a fireplace or anything like that.” He said. “So, the killer comes in from either the door or window, finds Goodman in his room, and bang!” He says, aiming his finger at Goodman’s body. “After that, he panics, and beats his face in with a bat. Then, he tries to stage a struggle, for some reason, and leaves.” Mr. Knight said.
“So, where is the silencer?” Spector asked.
“Either they took it, or there wasn’t one. If he didn’t have one, then everyone heard the gunshot. But they didn’t bother to call it in?” He wondered.
“Big profile lawyer, most likely didn’t have many friends. So, no one bothered to call it in.” Spector figured. “Not their problem and such. Hell’s Kitchen is a dog eat dog kinda place.”
Mr. Knight nodded, and stood up. That’s when he heard the closet door and someone bolted, running for the window. Mr. Knight wasted no time chasing after him.
The “chase” didn’t last long, just from one building to the next. Once they jumped from the fire escape, and landed on the roof to the neighboring building, Mr. Knight pulled out a crescent moon shaped disk and threw it, hitting the running man’s ankle. The man fell, and Mr. Knight picked him up, tossed him into a wall, and hit him a couple of times. “What were you doing there! How hired you?” He yelled, hitting him again.
“Help!” The man screamed. “Please help!”
Mr. Knight hit him again. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. A man, hiding in the closet, wearing a mask, a ammo clip on his belt. The assassin himself. Mr. Knight ripped the mask off, looking at the face of the young man, before hitting him again.
“Help!” The man screamed again. “Please! Someone come help me!”
“Shut up!” Mr. Knight said. “I know how to break every bone in your body in just the right way to cause pain and keep you awake. So start talking.”