The pizza boy did not deserve what I did to him. Neither did the maid at the far end of the building, who had been smoking a cigarette. I can still smell the scent of Camels. Johnny stepped out of his black Plymouth as I sat in my Ford Pinto. My windows were dirty, so I had to keep my driver's side window open to watch clearly. It was only 11:30 a.m., and usually, he was at his home at this time, tending