The stifling heat had finally broken, and from the bar’s window, I could see a storm was descending on New York City. I winced, shook the water from my hat, dropped it on the table, and slipped into the snug. I looked at my bloodied hands. I knew I shouldn't have done it, not that way, but knowing something doesn't always help. Anyway, the old couple had to die. Period.  I looked around, it was the usual, sad, 3 a.m. Frid...