Thanks to the those of you who have RRed. It's not like my usual stuff, but it's nice that at least a few of you are reading it.

OT - I'm not sure I like the new formatting here at do you? I'm still trying to fix some weird things that happened with punctuation marks in a previous upload. Sorry about that.

Anyway, here's Ch. 7. We see some of Woody's violent streak that has been hinted at in a few episodes this season.

Thanks for reading.

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"I already told the lady detective. I don't know nothing." Woody stood with the old homeless man in the alley next to Kathy Gerrity's building.

"Nothing, huh?" Woody reached into his pocket. "Maybe some of my friends can jog your memory."

He pulled out a roll of bills and peeled off the top one. The old man held up his hand.

"Keep your money. I said I don't know nothing." The old man looked up at Woody with mock sincerity. "Besides, I got principles. I ain't no jabberer."

He laughed a high, wheezy laugh that sounded like a death rattle. Hee Hee Hee Hee Hee.

Woody shuddered. Jabberer. An old jailhouse word. He wasn't mentally ill or a junkie. He was on the street because he was an ex-con whose crime had been such that he'd been rejected by every corner of society. He was a pervert.

"So, Milton, was it?" Woody began smoothly. "Sure I can't grease the wheels a little?"

Milton shrugged. "Not for twenty bucks. Now, buy me a house, and maybe I'll spill!' He threw his head back. Hee Hee Hee Hee Hee.

Woody slipped the money back in his pocket. "Well, Milton, I can't buy you a house, but I think I can find you a free bed for a few nights, and I'm not talking about a flea bag hotel or a homeless shelter."

The old man stopped mid-wheeze and narrowed his eyes. "You kidding me?"

Woody flashed his best Kewaunee grin. "Would I kid?"

Milton rocked back on his heels. "Go on."

"Clean bed. Full body massage."

"Yeah..."

"Every day. Sponge bath." Woody turned the words over lasciviously.

"Sponge bath..." the old man tittered.

"Three hot squares a day. Served by some of the loveliest ladies in the city of Boston."

Milton's eyes widened. "I'll bite!"

"Yeah, I just bet you will." Woody grabbed Milton by the arm, spun him around and slammed him face first into the brick wall behind him. "Too bad those meals will be served to you in an IV bag over at Boston General ICU."

"Oww!" the old man whined. "You're hurting me!"

"My guess is you've heard those words before, Milton. Tell me. Was it women? Or do you get your jollies with little girls. Or boys?"

"Hey, I done my time!" Woody pulled the old man's arm tighter. "OK! OK! I'll talk!" Woody spun him back around and pinned him to the wall. "I seen her around." He looked out onto the sidewalk where Kathy Gerrity had waited for the bus each morning. "She was stuck up, that one. Wouldn't give me the time of day."

"Talk, Milton."

"The morning she got killed, there was a repair van. HVAC. I don't know...something Italian. Lorenzo HVC or something. The driver was this young kid. I remember him 'cause he had this bright red hair. Kind of freaky looking. Later that night, I seen him again. I remembered him 'cause of his hair. You could tell even though it was dark. Only he didn't have the van this time. He comes running out of the building about 45 minutes later. That's all I know. That's all I seen. I swear on my mother's grave!"

Woody finally released the old man's arm. He clutched it protectively to his chest. Woody turned and walked out of the alley. Milton called out after him.

"Hey! Hey! I'm going sue the police, you hear me? I think you mighta broke something! Hey! I'm a law abiding citizen! I'm calling Internal Affairs and gonna report you!"

Woody turned. "Oh, yeah? What's my name?"

The old man blinked his watery eyes. His face dropped, and he shuffled back into the dark alley.

Woody calmly got into his car and returned to the precinct.