Lou goes for a walk

"Fuck me it's cold!" I pull my overcoat a little tighter to cut the wind out. Cold air stings my scalp. I should really start to wear hats, but I never liked them to begin with. When you have no body hair, a hat just makes you look like an idiot. Why don't I have any hair, you ask? Let's just say that contrary to popular belief, fairie fire does burn and what ever it does burn does not grow back.
 I stop at Doug's paper stand to grab a pack of smokes and the Trib. I drop a buck on his counter and stop as I see the paper's headline. "Prominent Trader leaps to death from Chicago Temple" Looks like some poor sap lost his savings in market and took the easy way out. Wait a minute. The photo of the scene on the front page. It shows the police and a gaggle of people trying to get a peek at the body. I cast a minor magnification spell to zoom in on the onlookers. Damn it I knew it. Sonofabitch! That's Jimi in the crowd. Now what the fuck is he doing there. I let go of my spell and scan the artical.
  It says that the lucrative stocks trader by the name of Les Clayburn, entered the Chicago Temple Building at 77 W. Washington at 4:00 pm yesterday and produced a revolver. He then shot two priest and climbed to the top of the temple, from which he screamed "The Philosopher!" before leaping to his death. What the fuck? Some guy who has the world by his finger tips just ups and  kills two people and then commits suicide. And Jimi just happens to be there? I don't believe in coincidences, those are for people who are too stupid to see whats really happening. This shit just got real interesting. Now I have to see Donnie. I fold the paper under my arm and step to the curb to try and hail a cab.
  As I look down Halsted to see if a cab is coming, I spy this beautiful Pontiac, slowly coming towards ma. It's one of those dark blue models, you know the blue that looks almost black. Something is off. It's too clean looking. Shit! They have a protection spell on the car! Just as it begins to get closer, I see the tinted passenger side window roll down. A shotgun barrel emerges. Why does this fucking shit always happens to me? I instinctively dive behind the park car next to me as the first blast shreds through my flapping overcoat. I lay flat to the snow covered ground as whoever the fuck this is unloads hellfire rounds into the car. The smell of melted steel and burning leather fill my nose. It's over in a matter of seconds. I lay there listening to my own heart beat against my eardrums. I slowly get up and pat out the smoldering embers on my overcoat. Fuck me, I really liked this coat. It looks like most of the shots hit the car. Then I hear a scream behind me and sobbing. I turn around. Fuck me. Some broad caught one in the chest. She's lying there with a fist size hole in her chest, blood everywhere. Some kid is crying over her, telling her to wake up.
 Well I'm not sticking around to answer any questions from the cops. Besides I'm not really their favorite person and I'm sure they would try to pin it on me. I start jogging down the street until I turn the corner at 35th. I start walking towards the lake. Donnie better have something for me. If I'm going to get shot at, then I'd like to know who's doing the shooting. Also what did Jimi get himself into and what does he have to do with this Clayburn character. Too may questions and not enough answers. This is the kind of shit that pisses me off and usually ends with me in even deeper shit.