The clock's hour hand ha just touched 5 when Hansen rotated the jammed door knob to get inside house. The jammed door knob had been rescuing him for the last couple of days. For a long time Hansen had forgotten that now he was a millionaire. He had no idea how Bughaloo had earned such money.

He had no regret within him for Bughaloo but had some for Peplinski. "Deighan is the reason why he got killed…not me. Now Deighan must pay." Hansen said to the clock hoping it would agree on his opinion.

Silence means a nod. He presumed it for clock's case. Ten minutes later, he showered and it was done then started massaging his right arm. He also did some yoga stuff. He reached for his first aid box and had some pain killers.

He was then confirmed no bones were broken.

All of a sudden he heard the phone on the table ring. It rang and kept ringing but Hansen did not receive it.

The ringing followed and Hansen did the same he had done with the last one. Maybe his construction boss was calling him, he assumed, because he hadn’t been to his job for three consecutive days.

After it he put the receiver of the red phone on the table.

Almost at ten, Deighan was coming at Peplinski's house. He was sure no cops were coming and nobody had any hint where Deighan was going. This was the perfect opportunity to kill Officer Deighan and end the whole mess.

He had plotted that when he will have completed the murder then he will start his car and go somewhere for two days, pretending he never was there tonight.

Hansen didn’t want this crime to look as suicide but wanted to kill Deighan straight away. But he did not know if Deighan will come alone or with some other men like Stanley who had no idea why they were involved.

Plotting for Deighan's murder, he sat in front of the fireplace on his rocking chair with loaded gun in his hand. He sat there by looking at the fireplace till nine.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

He had no idea how he had spent three hours on a rocking chair in front of an unlit fireplace.

Then he left his chair for murder.

"There was an old man from somewhere who gave m ea hundred dollars and his name is like Pepli – pep – I don’t remember. It was more bizarre than my ass." The waiter told himself as he pushed the gurney like table where lay Greek and Middle Eastern cuisines. Maybe he was speaking to the dishes because, at some level, he was insane."Dear Mrs. Porky and Mr. Peasy…I can get more. He told me Pepl – whatever told me!"

"How?" he imagined Mrs. Porky, which was a cuisine made of pork meat loaf marinated for a day in secret spices, say.

Don’t ask strangers anything! He imagined Mr. Peasy (Middle Eastern peas soup) speak.

The waiter was half wit so Hansen had chosen him for a task before he would have nailed the coffin. He had chosen a half wit because he was the waiter responsible for delivery of foods in that floor. He had paid him for not interfering inside Peplinski's room in any condition. The tip was for forgetting about existence of room no 33.

The waiter could smell foul smell of body in initiation to rot but he didn’t mention anything to anyone about it. Matter of fact was, he didn’t know a man was dead in there.

The boy heard someone knocking the door from inside of room no 33. Preceding it, a harsh voice was audible, "Having fun with Mrs. Porky and Mr. Peasy?" Then this was followed by the laughter.

"Yes Mr. Pep – lis - ki." The boy managed to say something at least.

"Not my name boy." The voice resumed as if it was now enjoying speaking now.

"Sorry to misspell your name. I annoyed you – "

"I don’t have any name," the voice came, "Not Peplinski, not Hansen, not Bughaloo…not anything."

"They must call you by something…right?"

"They call me Marcello." then the voice stopped coming from the room.