Chapter Two: Mrs Spillzman

Joanne Spillzman was awoken abruptly by loud banging on her front door; the residents of Pope's Meadow were not used to noises so early in the morning. When she answered the door she was in a pink nightie, clearly not dressed and washed.

"Can I help you?" she asked through a faint smile.

"Yes," the man in the suit replied.

"Well...what is it then? There's a draft, and I must get ready soon."

"I'm Ray, Ray Boccino."

"Name doesn't ring a bell."

"I'm a close acquaintance of your husband, Joe. Is he in?"

"No. As a matter of fact, he's behind bars at the moment. It is a terrible shame, but the fat slop got what was coming to him."

"Have you always despised him?"

"Not until about seven months ago, when he spoiled his earning on that Auto Eroticar place. Now he doesn't even have the time of day for me."

"How long was he sentenced for?"

"Eight months for illegal immigration affairs. Anyway, I wish for you to-" She suddenly froze on the spot. She had recalled reading the newspaper yesterday; the name RAY BOCCINO was in large, bold capital letters on the main headline.

"IT WAS YOU!" Mrs Spillzman shrieked.

"Pardon." Ray looked taken aback.

"You sold my husband those immigrants. You cost him eight months as a jailbird. Get out of my sight!"

She slammed the door shut on his face, causing him to lose balance and fall into a hedgerow. Ray was not expecting a welcoming of such madness. He attempted to ring the doorbell but he knew she was in no situation of talking. He was hoping to worn her that Phil was on his way down to probably murder her after what Pegirino told him.

Phil was busy writing something in his notepad as he sat impatiently outside number 13 Pope's Meadow. Taking out his switch-blade from his glove compartment, Phil noticed Ray leaving the front gate with an aggravated expression on his usually cocky visage. There were but many things that upset Ray, but the real question plaguing on Phil's conscience was what was he doing there? Phil made sure there were no eye witnesses about the neighbourhood before he exited the vehicle, the switch-blade hidden in his suit pocket.

When he reached the front door, it was already unlocked and ajar. The resident of the house had obviously left it open after their conversation. Phil was greeted by a plump, Hispanic woman in a pink dressing gown.

"How's it going, mister," she said to him.

"Nothing much," Phil sighed. "Say, who was that Italian fellow who just waltzed out of your home."

"Some moron who called himself Ray Boginio or Bogirini or something silly like that. He was giving me a hard time; having the cheek to inform me that he's an old friend of my husband, Joe, who as you may not know is in prison at the moment, and then that's when I saw the Liberty Tree's main headline. I was in shock. How can that scum bag turn up at my house telling me nonsense."

"Very intriguing, ma'am," Phil nodded as he gazed around for any signs of life in peaceful Pope's Meadow.

Mrs Spillzman continued to drone on but Phil attempted his utmost effort to audit her unimportant words. He could not bring himself to murder an innocent individual, no matter how bitchy Joanne Spillzman seemed to be.

He thought quietly to himself when he returned to his car, only to find it had been broken into. Phil's mind filled with panic; there were some greatly important documents in the back seat, not to mention a firearm. If the said person that had stolen his gear was to be caught by the police, they would be able to notify the items and Phil would get busted. Luckily, the dumb thief only took a $5 bill that originally lay on the passenger seat in the front.

Before long however, a couple of cars showed up outside of Pope's Meadow; four men emerged from each one, making eight goons in total, and they approached number 13. Phil instantly recognized them as Ancelotti's, a rival Liberty City mafia to the Pegirinos.

They entered the Spillzman's house and, within a couple of seconds, came running out again with a terrified Joanne seized in their hands. They lunged her into the boot of the primary car. Phil looked in horror; they were stealing his intended target-which would make his boss a very unhappy man. He fired up the engine and slowly shadowed the two vehicles out of Pope's Meadow.

The two Ancelotti cars came to an abrupt halt outside of a warehouse in Toggle Avenue. Some of the thugs carried Joanne inside. They proceeded to tie Mrs Spillzman to a chair.

"Come on, bitch!" one of them barked. "Start talking. Whose that moron who visited your house earlier?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" she shrieked in terror.

The men proceeded to pull out melee weapons; bats, knives, crowbars. Phil had the sudden urge to help out, so without any interference, he ran inside the warehouse with his gun loaded. Within seconds, the room was filled with bodies. The only two remaining people still breathing were Phil and Joanne.

"Jesus, are you alright? Phil asked a shaking Mrs Spillzman; she didn't reply, obviously too absorbed by shock.

Phil drove Joanne back home and suggested she get some rest as he'd be round early the next morning to check up on her. As he was leaving Pope's Meadow, the cops arrived. They proceeded to drag Phil out of his car, handcuff him, and forced him into their patrol vehicle...