From a black sedan, skidding around a slushy Minneapolis corner one midnight last week, gunfire blazed. From a parked car, the gunners' target, jumped a man and woman, running for their lives. The man, obviously hurt, shouted: "Don't shoot, for God's sake, don't shoot. . . ." As if he recognized the killer, he called out a name. Then he toppled over into the snow. Next day, his companion, a prostitute, told police she couldn't make out what name her friend had cried out.
Thus last week a dog's death came to Arthur Kasherman, 43,...
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