The Gift of Maggie

Then the bailiff drew his pistol. It looked huge in his palm, and shiny black. Unlike his voice, the intruder held the pistol confidently. He gestured for Krantzler to move back. Krantzler retreated, still in a crouch, looking feral. His eyes glowed wildly as they glanced around the apartment. He soon focused on the kitchen, where he saw a butcher block holding an assortment of knives.

The sound of the siren wailed louder. Red lights could be seen flashing outside the apartment window. It glowed against the walls of the apartment. The lights agitated Krantzler. His hands grasped against the air at his side. His eyes slashed side to side. His shoulders hunched.

The intruder with the gun waved it, indicating that Krantzler should sit on the sofa against the wall. Krantzler slid sideways toward the sofa, then bolted toward the kitchen. His movement was so fast it scared Maggie, who let out with a scream. That rattled the intruder who was also caught off-guard by Krantzler's quick jump. He almost dropped his weapon. Instead, he steadied it, pointed it, and shot toward Krantzler, striking him in the back.

Krantzler arched his back, trying in vain to put his hand on the spot where the bullet had entered his back. Thick, black blood stained his shirt and dripped onto the kitchen tile. He took two more steps and fell to the floor in the kitchen, just short of the butcher block.

The intruder put his arms around Maggie, who let herself be pulled closer to him. She was crying and trying to form the words, "Thank you." She enjoyed being held by the bailiff as she cried on his broad shoulders, not minding at all that she was naked and that the police would also see her unclothed dancer's body.