61
IT WAS LATE. The rain was still raining. We sat at my
kitchen counter with a siphon of soda, a bucket of ice, and a
bottle of scotch.
I raised my glass
toward Z.
"Pretty good," I
said.
Z
nodded.
"Ever kill anybody
before?" I said.
"No."
We both drank some
scotch.
"How you feel about
it?" I said.
"Less than I thought
I'd feel," he said.
"How you feel
depends on stuff," I said.
"They would have
killed me," he said.
"They would," I
said. "And that helps with how you feel. Also, whether you knew
them or not. If they died fast or slow. How close they were. What
they looked like. It's easier at a distance."
"It was easier in
the dark," Z said.
"Anything that
distances you from the human fact of them," I said.
"Doesn't mean I
liked it," Z said.
"Good," I said.
"Stephano would have liked it. But it's worth remembering about
yourself that you are the kind of guy who can stick a knife into
someone in the dark."
"Are you like that?"
Z said.
"Yes," I
said.
"You wish you
weren't?"
"No," I said. "But I
keep it in mind."
"Why?"
"So I won't be that
way when I don't have to be," I said.
Z
nodded.
"You took Stephano
out pretty nice," he said.
"I'm supposed to," I
said.
"Yeah."
We didn't talk for a
while. We finished our drinks at an easy pace, and made fresh ones.
I could hear, faintly, the sound of the rain outside my front
windows.
"Whaddya gonna do
now?" Z said.
"I'm going to tell
Quirk that I don't think Jumbo killed Dawn Lopata."
"You believe
Jumbo?"
"Yes."
"Remember," Z said.
"He's a lying fuck."
"Of course he is," I
said. "But it's a plausible story, and nothing any of us knows
contradicts it."
"Okay," Z said.
"Then what?"
"Then Quirk does
what he does," I said. "The DA does what he does. Jumbo's people do
what they do."
"Can Quirk keep him
out of jail?"
"Maybe," I
said.
"What if he
doesn't?" Z said. "What if they send him to jail?"
"I did what I could.
I did what I said I'd do. That's all there is to do."
"Would it bother
you?" Z said.
"Some," I said. "But
I'd get over it."
"He probably should
do time, anyway, for being a creep," Z said.
"Probably," I said.
"Maybe he can make a deal."
"Swap Nicky
Fellscroft for a light sentence?" Z said.
"Might," I said. "If
they press charges."
"They might kill
him," Z said.
"Also possible," I
said.
"Easier than killing
us," Z said.
I nodded. I could
hear the rain outside my front windows. Z looked at his half-full
glass.
"Ain't a lot of
happy endings here," he said.
"There often
aren't," I said.
"That's how it is,"
Z said. "Isn't it."
"'Fraid so," I
said.
He nodded and sipped
his drink and kept nodding slowly, as if in some kind of permanent
affirmation.
"That's how it is,"
he said.
I don't think he was
talking to me.