He had a graceful gait to his walk that late evening along Sansom Street, passing storefronts abandoned since the strikes of ’93 despite Teddy Roosevelt’s best efforts. He hadn’t a care in the world – 23 years old, in love with Billy from New York, having just made his debut at Carnegie Hall with a performance of Schubert’s Fantasie. Life couldn’t have been better for Brian Larney, walking home from the 30th Street Terminal Sunday night after his weekend in Manhattan.
The two men had other plans for him that evening. Across the street, they nodded to each other and moved in on Brian. The squirrely one shifted behind Brian and picked up his pace until just six feet behind. The beefy one ran ahead and came from the opposite direction. He stood in front of Brian and flashed a knife in front of his face.
“Give me what you've got."
Brian turned to run but the Squirrel assaulted him head on, pulled his arms behind him, and flung him around to face the Beef. The Beef frisked Brian, tore his blue overcoat, ripped at his pockets, grabbed his wallet.
"Fifteen cents, only enough for a fare to New York. The chintz has no money."
The Squirrel goosed Brian with his knee. The Beef kicked him in the groin, punched his face with his left, stabbed him in the abdomen with his right. The Squirrel twisted Brian’s right arm until they heard the elbow snap, slammed his fist into the back of Brian's head. Brian fell to the ground. The Beef kicked him in his left ribs with all his force. The Squirrel did the same from the other side.
An hour later an ambulance delivered Brian to the Pennsylvania Hospital. Dr. Martin Limerick, the only resident physician on duty that Sunday evening, received the man whose only gruff words were Billy, I want Billy. Brian gasped for air and coughed up blood from his throat. Martin strained to hear what the man had to say.
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