She heard a car start as she got out of the cab, but she ignored this sound, as she did the group of rough-looking men moving quickly into a side alley. The cabbie had told her that the Laughing Man was a tall, thin man who was probably heavily armed. A man on the side of the street, neither tall nor thin, glared at her. “Oye, chica! Qué necesita?”
She turned to answer him, but was not able to get the sentence started before she heard a crash and a scream behind her. She went to turn, but tripped and fell hard.
As she stood, she looked into the alley to a horrible accident. A car had driven into a crowd of people! She ran across the street, dodging traffic, to see if she could help, but stopped short as soon as she entered the alley. That one body, those were clear gunshot wounds. “Cars don’t shoot guns,” she thought, and then she recognized the guns, the face … the man. This was the Laughing Man. Shot … then run over. All her efforts for nothing. She grabbed the driver’s collar as he got out of the car.