It’d be laughable if it wasn’t so sad.”
“They’re crazy for thinking James killed those people. James couldn’t have switched people’s heads or make anyone disappear forever. It’s insane. No magician is that good.”
“The whole thing isn’t right,” Chuck commiserated. “But James was a little troubled, wasn’t he? He came here all the time to drink. Never spoke to anyone, and when he did, it was to badger the bartender about watering down his scotch and sodas.”
“Whatever it was that was wrong, he locked me out of it. I tried everything to help him. That man ended my marriage. Angie didn’t want anything to do with the police’s heat, and then everyone talked about us like we were murderers or co-conspirators. The police had her in tears after the interrogation sessions. The bastards were desperate because they weren’t finding the answers they wanted. Now Angie’s at her parents’ in Tennessee, and we’re divorced. Finalized through the fucking mail.”
“That’s rough.” Chuck frowned. “Man, I know women who would love a guy like you, and not old bags either. They’re very attractive and have juices left in their libido. Hear what I’m sayin’?”
“My head’s in all directions. I can’t focus on a woman right now.” He decided not to order another drink and set a ten dollar bill on the counter. “A nephew of mine is staying at James’s house. Hopefully, he’ll snatch it up from under me. He’s a film student, though, and I’m not sure if he’s up for being sedentary.”
He stood up from his barstool. He was so tipsy he had to slow his steps so he wouldn’t tumble over.
Chuck waved goodbye to him on his way out. “Well, whatever happens with the house—sell it, topple it, whatever—you need to be rid of that burden.”
“I agree.”
Ned walked two blocks south of the bar back toward his house. He was in eyeshot of 13 th Street and studied the purple neon sign in the woman’s bay window: PRICILLA’S TAROT CARD READER AND MEDIUM. Maybe he’d meet Pricilla tomorrow and find out what exactly she was capable of doing. He felt ridiculous, but until he satisfied the urge, the thought wouldn’t exit his mind.
Black clouds choked the sky, and on his way home it poured rain. He hurried along and wondered how Andy was doing in James’s house alone.
Cal Unger worked the late shift at Anderson Mills Cemetery. Most of his shifts were morning to mid-afternoon, but in this case, two funerals were scheduled to take place the day after tomorrow, and time was short to complete the ceremony preparations. He had to dig out the holes for two graves and set up the catafalque. It took hours to clear the dirt, so it had to be done a day ahead of time, if not sooner. He’d finished the first hole two hours ago and was working on the second when Cal decided to take a short break. The fifth of gin in his back pocket would ease the kink in his back and his back liked the sound of a rest.
He tasted rain in the air. The moisture and acid levels in the winds promised a storm. As he sat back for a time, the alcohol on his empty stomach immediately made him relaxed. Fifteen minutes later, he clutched the shovel and renewed his efforts.
“Funeral might be cancelled tomorrow. Not that the dead are in a hurry to be buried, huh guys? Your agenda’s wide the fuck open.”
An arc of white lightening branched overhead. “Give it another fifteen minutes, and I’ll be digging in the rain.” Feeling a light spatter of rain on his back, he blathered, “Ah, screw this! I need another drink.”
Cal leaned up against the headstone of Philip West for a short nap. Twenty minutes would do it, he thought. He set his watch’s alarm. He was careful not to forget to wake himself up.
He didn’t relax for long. The shuffle of nearby footsteps startled him. “Hey, who’s there?”
Cal blushed, his skin warm at being caught. Another pair of feet joined in, trudging at a
“They’re crazy for thinking James killed those people. James couldn’t have switched people’s heads or make anyone disappear forever. It’s insane. No magician is that good.”
“The whole thing isn’t right,” Chuck commiserated. “But James was a little troubled, wasn’t he? He came here all the time to drink. Never spoke to anyone, and when he did, it was to badger the bartender about watering down his scotch and sodas.”
“Whatever it was that was wrong, he locked me out of it. I tried everything to help him. That man ended my marriage. Angie didn’t want anything to do with the police’s heat, and then everyone talked about us like we were murderers or co-conspirators. The police had her in tears after the interrogation sessions. The bastards were desperate because they weren’t finding the answers they wanted. Now Angie’s at her parents’ in Tennessee, and we’re divorced. Finalized through the fucking mail.”
“That’s rough.” Chuck frowned. “Man, I know women who would love a guy like you, and not old bags either. They’re very attractive and have juices left in their libido. Hear what I’m sayin’?”
“My head’s in all directions. I can’t focus on a woman right now.” He decided not to order another drink and set a ten dollar bill on the counter. “A nephew of mine is staying at James’s house. Hopefully, he’ll snatch it up from under me. He’s a film student, though, and I’m not sure if he’s up for being sedentary.”
He stood up from his barstool. He was so tipsy he had to slow his steps so he wouldn’t tumble over.
Chuck waved goodbye to him on his way out. “Well, whatever happens with the house—sell it, topple it, whatever—you need to be rid of that burden.”
“I agree.”
Ned walked two blocks south of the bar back toward his house. He was in eyeshot of 13 th Street and studied the purple neon sign in the woman’s bay window: PRICILLA’S TAROT CARD READER AND MEDIUM. Maybe he’d meet Pricilla tomorrow and find out what exactly she was capable of doing. He felt ridiculous, but until he satisfied the urge, the thought wouldn’t exit his mind.
Black clouds choked the sky, and on his way home it poured rain. He hurried along and wondered how Andy was doing in James’s house alone.
Cal Unger worked the late shift at Anderson Mills Cemetery. Most of his shifts were morning to mid-afternoon, but in this case, two funerals were scheduled to take place the day after tomorrow, and time was short to complete the ceremony preparations. He had to dig out the holes for two graves and set up the catafalque. It took hours to clear the dirt, so it had to be done a day ahead of time, if not sooner. He’d finished the first hole two hours ago and was working on the second when Cal decided to take a short break. The fifth of gin in his back pocket would ease the kink in his back and his back liked the sound of a rest.
He tasted rain in the air. The moisture and acid levels in the winds promised a storm. As he sat back for a time, the alcohol on his empty stomach immediately made him relaxed. Fifteen minutes later, he clutched the shovel and renewed his efforts.
“Funeral might be cancelled tomorrow. Not that the dead are in a hurry to be buried, huh guys? Your agenda’s wide the fuck open.”
An arc of white lightening branched overhead. “Give it another fifteen minutes, and I’ll be digging in the rain.” Feeling a light spatter of rain on his back, he blathered, “Ah, screw this! I need another drink.”
Cal leaned up against the headstone of Philip West for a short nap. Twenty minutes would do it, he thought. He set his watch’s alarm. He was careful not to forget to wake himself up.
He didn’t relax for long. The shuffle of nearby footsteps startled him. “Hey, who’s there?”
Cal blushed, his skin warm at being caught. Another pair of feet joined in, trudging at a
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