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“Are you okay?” Co
“I’m okay, I think.” She checked herself. “Yes.”
Co
“Okay.”
They pressed into each other with desperate zeal and relief, kissing hard, teeth mashing against lips. Finally, Tyra
“Yes.”
“I need a favor.”
“Yes. Of course. What is it?”
“Can you help me get rid of these bodies before Dan gets home?”
Epilogue
“No, not a Dodge Dart,” Co
“No luck?” Sid put another draft beer in front of Co
“I called everyplace. I don’t think I’m going to see my car again.” Co
“Buy a new car with the insurance money,” suggested Sid. “The Plymouth was falling apart anyway.”
“It was a vintage automobile.”
Sid shook his head. “Whatever you say.”
“Besides,” Co
The insurance company had paid him a recovery fee of ten grand. Some of the money had gone to get Co
“Where’s your girlfriend?” Sid asked. “I never seen nobody get their skull cracked with a cricket bat before.”
Tyra
Co
“I decided I needed some help around here,” Sid said. “It would be nice to take a night off once in a while, see the grandkids.”
“You’ve got grandkids? I never knew.”
“You never asked. What, you think you’re the only one around here with a life?”
Right.
Co
The blonde finally made it to his end of the bar. “Another draft?”
“Sure. What’s your name?”
“Misty.” A smile like sunshine.
“I’m Co
She nodded. “The tips were good, but too many tourists. Creeps. Some of them think you’re there to serve more than drinks. I like it here. Quiet.”
Co
The smile vanished. Her eyes narrowed to ferocious slits. “Did somebody put you up to saying that? Is that some kind of joke?”
“Whoa. Hey, I was just saying-”
“Well, watch it, buddy.”
“Hey, fine. Whatever.” He took out a cigar, struck a match.
“Don’t light that in here,” Misty snapped. “Are you trying to kill everybody?” She stormed away, nose in the air.
Co
A tall guy walked into the bar, big hook of a nose, pale. Khakis and a red polo shirt. He grabbed a stool next to Co
Co
“My name is Devon Haywood. You’re Co
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“I’m a friend of Jasper Dybek’s. Jasper told me you… uh… helped him with a little problem a short while back.”
Co
“Look, I’m going to be straight with you,” Haywood said. “My last sculpture sold for six figures. But that was two years ago. The bank’s going to repossess my house. Frankly, I was hoping you could do for me what you did for Jasper.”
The world had gone crazy. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“The sculptures are insured.” He pulled out a business card, put it on the bar next to Co
Co
Co
He unfolded a letter he’d been carrying around the last few days. He’d found it jammed into the depths of his pants pocket when he’d finally broken down to do a load of laundry. The letter from Marilyn Monroe to Teddy Folger had a dozen new folds and wrinkles from being smashed into his pocket, but the plastic bag had protected it when he’d been tossed into the Gulf of Mexico. The insurance company hadn’t asked about it.
He read again the part he liked best.
People are fu
Just maybe, in a letter to a fourteen-year-old kid she barely knew, Norma Jean had shown herself, had won out over her starlet persona and was just a regular girl with fears and loves and worries like everyone else. Had DiMaggio loved Norma Jean or Marilyn?
Well, Co
In the meantime, Co
About the Author
Victor Gischler lives in the wilds of Skiatook, Oklahoma -a long, long way from a Starbucks. His wife, Jackie, thinks he is a silly individual. He drinks black, black coffee all day long and sleeps about seven minutes a night. Victor’s first novel, Gun Monkeys, was nominated for the Edgar Award.