Moe watched her fall, his eyes alight with vicious triumph. He was aware of the sound of running feet, but he fired again at the still figure as it lay on the ground. The slug smashed the mirror an inch or two above Frances’s prostrate body, bringing a shower of glass down on top of her.
The running feet sounded very close now, and Moe swung around.
Conrad pulled up as he reached the corner of the path. He caught a fleeting glimpse of Moe, crouching, with his gun pushed forward, and beyond Moe, the body of a girl in a blue frock. He ducked back as Moe fired at him, the slug throwing a spray of glass splinters dangerously near his face.
Dropping flat, Conrad edged around the corner. Moe spotted him as Conrad lifted his gun and they both fired simultaneously.
Moe’s slug cut through the crown of Conrad’s hat. Conrad’s shot was more accurate. He saw Moe drop his gun, clutch his side and pitch forward on his face.
Two policemen arrived above Conrad and jumped down beside him.
“Watch him,” Conrad cautioned as he stepped into the path where Moe lay.
But Moe didn’t move when they reached him. One of the police turned him over on his back.
Moe’s white face was twisted into a snarl of pain and fear. His sightless eyes stared up at the blue sky. Blood soaked the front of his coat. Even as Conrad looked down at him, Moe’s jaw dropped and the last of his breath came through his open mouth in a tired, hissing sigh.