seemed to come from a bar of soap on the sink.
Not wasting any time, I took the .22 out of my back pocket, pulled my cut-offs down and sat on the toilet.
While I peed, I wondered what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
A complete disaster, that’s what.
I’d actually brought Tony’s car—and corpse—to Judy’s building, not his.
Even if I could somehow learn the location of his new apartment—which seemed impossible—the plan was blown anyway because I’d come face to face with Judy.
Killing her wouldn’t fix everything, but it had to be done.
The worst part of it was, I liked her.
Too bad I hadn’t shot her right away. It would’ve been easier. Now that I knew her, it was going to be tough.
I kept staring at the pistol in my hand.
Maybe I should just do it. Go out there and shoot her right now.
With my thumb, I switched off the safety. It had been hiding a small red dot.
Wait till she turns around. Get up real close behind her, then put a couple in the back of her head.
Don’t let her know what’s coming. That way, she won’t be scared.
And won’t scream, either.
Maybe she’ll scream because it hurts.
I imagined it all happening, and it made me feel sick.
Let it wait, I told myself. There’s no big hurry. We’ll be leaving in a few minutes. Wait till we’re someplace where nobody will be likely to hear the gunshots.
Right away, I felt better.
I still had to kill her, but not until later.
I thumbed the safety back on, then reached over and set the pistol on the edge of the sink.
When I was done at the toilet, I pulled up my cut-offs and fastened the belt tight enough to keep them from falling down. Instead of putting the pistol into my back pocket, I slipped it into the right front pocket. That way, it would be easier to take out.
Then I washed my hands.
There was a mirror above the sink.
I hardly recognized myself. My hair looked strange—damp, ropey and coiled. My face was shiny with oils and sweat. The afternoon in the sun had turned it a dark, coppery color. My eyes looked all wrong—the whites too white, the gaze too intense.
I looked a little mad, a little wild.
Like someone well suited for bloody work.
I washed my hands with hot water, using the nice soap. When I finished, my hands smelled like spring flowers. I rinsed my face with cold water. I cupped some water to my mouth, and had a few swallows.
After drying, I used the towel to wipe the faucet and toilet handles and the light switch. I put the towel back on its bar, then shut off the light with the edge of my hand. Standing in the dark, I slipped my hand under the front of my shirt and grabbed the doorknob to let myself out.
“Ready?” Judy asked.
“All set,” I told her.
Our beer mugs were gone.
Along with my fingerprints!
Smiling, I said, “You cleaned up already?”
“Yeah. I hate coming back to a mess. Did you want your mug?”
“I just thought I might have a drink of water.”
“It’s already washed, but I’ll get you a clean one.”
Already washed!
“Never mind,” I said, pleasantly relieved. “We’d better go.”
“Are you sure? It wouldn’t be any trouble.”
“Yeah. Hey, I’d just end up having to pee again.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s go.”
Judy walked in front of me. I followed her toward the door, the pistol swinging in my pocket, rubbing against my thigh. She opened the door, then stepped aside.
I went out into the hallway. Nobody was there.
Judy came after me, using the outside knob to pull the door shut. Then she gave it a couple of twists and shoves to make sure the door was locked.
Which took care of any prints I might’ve left on the knob. Side by side, not saying a word, we walked down the silent hall to the foyer. There, she whispered, “Where’d you park Tony’s car?”
“In the lot.”
“ This lot?”
“Yeah.”
“You found an empty space for it?”
“I put it in L. Is that okay?”
“Fine. That’s right next to mine.”
As we hurried down
Not wasting any time, I took the .22 out of my back pocket, pulled my cut-offs down and sat on the toilet.
While I peed, I wondered what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
A complete disaster, that’s what.
I’d actually brought Tony’s car—and corpse—to Judy’s building, not his.
Even if I could somehow learn the location of his new apartment—which seemed impossible—the plan was blown anyway because I’d come face to face with Judy.
Killing her wouldn’t fix everything, but it had to be done.
The worst part of it was, I liked her.
Too bad I hadn’t shot her right away. It would’ve been easier. Now that I knew her, it was going to be tough.
I kept staring at the pistol in my hand.
Maybe I should just do it. Go out there and shoot her right now.
With my thumb, I switched off the safety. It had been hiding a small red dot.
Wait till she turns around. Get up real close behind her, then put a couple in the back of her head.
Don’t let her know what’s coming. That way, she won’t be scared.
And won’t scream, either.
Maybe she’ll scream because it hurts.
I imagined it all happening, and it made me feel sick.
Let it wait, I told myself. There’s no big hurry. We’ll be leaving in a few minutes. Wait till we’re someplace where nobody will be likely to hear the gunshots.
Right away, I felt better.
I still had to kill her, but not until later.
I thumbed the safety back on, then reached over and set the pistol on the edge of the sink.
When I was done at the toilet, I pulled up my cut-offs and fastened the belt tight enough to keep them from falling down. Instead of putting the pistol into my back pocket, I slipped it into the right front pocket. That way, it would be easier to take out.
Then I washed my hands.
There was a mirror above the sink.
I hardly recognized myself. My hair looked strange—damp, ropey and coiled. My face was shiny with oils and sweat. The afternoon in the sun had turned it a dark, coppery color. My eyes looked all wrong—the whites too white, the gaze too intense.
I looked a little mad, a little wild.
Like someone well suited for bloody work.
I washed my hands with hot water, using the nice soap. When I finished, my hands smelled like spring flowers. I rinsed my face with cold water. I cupped some water to my mouth, and had a few swallows.
After drying, I used the towel to wipe the faucet and toilet handles and the light switch. I put the towel back on its bar, then shut off the light with the edge of my hand. Standing in the dark, I slipped my hand under the front of my shirt and grabbed the doorknob to let myself out.
“Ready?” Judy asked.
“All set,” I told her.
Our beer mugs were gone.
Along with my fingerprints!
Smiling, I said, “You cleaned up already?”
“Yeah. I hate coming back to a mess. Did you want your mug?”
“I just thought I might have a drink of water.”
“It’s already washed, but I’ll get you a clean one.”
Already washed!
“Never mind,” I said, pleasantly relieved. “We’d better go.”
“Are you sure? It wouldn’t be any trouble.”
“Yeah. Hey, I’d just end up having to pee again.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s go.”
Judy walked in front of me. I followed her toward the door, the pistol swinging in my pocket, rubbing against my thigh. She opened the door, then stepped aside.
I went out into the hallway. Nobody was there.
Judy came after me, using the outside knob to pull the door shut. Then she gave it a couple of twists and shoves to make sure the door was locked.
Which took care of any prints I might’ve left on the knob. Side by side, not saying a word, we walked down the silent hall to the foyer. There, she whispered, “Where’d you park Tony’s car?”
“In the lot.”
“ This lot?”
“Yeah.”
“You found an empty space for it?”
“I put it in L. Is that okay?”
“Fine. That’s right next to mine.”
As we hurried down
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