Murder at McDonald's by Phonse; Jessome Read Free Book Online

startled—he’d expected to see Neil, Donna, or Arlene—but he relaxed when he recognized the new employee, whom he’d met a couple of times when Wood worked the morning shift.
    â€œHi, guys.” Jimmy’s smile turned to a puzzled frown as he heard someone say, “Shoot him!” Jimmy saw the muzzle flash after the bullet left the barrel. The bullet entered his brain through his forehead, and all his motor control ceased; there was not even enough reflex action left in his body for him to reach out and break his fall. Jimmy Fagan’s face hit the tiled kitchen floor hard, and his legs remained outstretched in the doorway, preventing the big door from swinging shut. He did not feel the door hit him, nor did he see his attackers jump over his body and run into the darkness.
    As Daniel MacVicar drove down the ramp to Kings Road, he heard what he thought was a firecracker. Glancing back at the restaurant as the car moved forward, he saw two figures run out of the restaurant, carrying kitbags. He wondered it they were workers leaving—maybe they needed a taxi—but instead they headed in the opposite direction, into the field at the edge of the parking lot. Before he could get a good look at them, the car rolled past the corner of the building, and they were gone from sight. On reflection, MacVicar felt something might be wrong, so he stopped the cab and, putting it in reverse, floored the accelerator in the hopes that the screeching tires would get someone’s attention inside. He stopped as he cleared the side of the building, but no-one came to see what all the noise was about. Putting the car in drive, MacVicar turned back towards the drive-through service window and the employees’ door. As he moved past the window, he saw Jimmy Fagan in the doorway.
    MacVicar grabbed his radio mike. “Dispatch, I heard a shot and my passenger’s hurt or something. You’d better get the RCMP and an ambulance out to the McDonald’s in Sydney River.” Another driver answered: “Is your passenger O.K.? Can you check him?” MacVicar was about to park when another voice came crackling over the radio: “Danny, don’t get out of your car. Keep moving and don’t let anyone in until we get there.” It was one of several taxi drivers speeding towards Sydney River.
    The taxi dispatcher quickly called the RCMP and then Curry’s ambulance station, where attendants George Kolezar and Wayne Fitzgerald were relaxing and hoping for a quiet shift. When the call came in, the two rushed to their ambulance and sped to Sydney River; with the aid of their lights and the almost-empty roads, they made the trip in less than five minutes.
    It may have seemed a quick run to the ambulance attendants, but time slowed and panic built as Daniel MacVicar circled around and around the McDonald’s parking lot, the doors locked, praying that help would come soon. Little did he know how close he came to encountering the gunmen he feared.
    About twenty metres away, panic was also building in the minds of Freeman MacNeil, Darren Muise, and Derek Wood as they ran blindly through the field beside the restaurant and towards the Sydney bypass. The three stopped at the edge of the highway, then darted across, into the safety of the darkness on the other side. They plunged into a field, crushing the ice that covered a small brook in the field as they ran uphill, towards the dirt road. The kitbag containing the money struck Derek Wood’s leg as his feet pounded the gravel. Finally they could see the two-tone Chevy Impala parked in the darkness where they had left it only a short time before. The few homes in the area were still; the residents were fast asleep as the men ran to the car.
    MacNeil decided to get rid of the bloodied shovel handle he had used to club Neil Burroughs, so he ran down into the ditch beside the car and hurled the handle lengthwise into the culvert that ran beneath