It was a dank, dark Saturday evening, the rain scratching at the car window like a cat stuck inside a trash-can.
Billy had called me out to tell me something, but I still didn’t know what the deal was. For all the trouble he’d gone to, I figured I oughta bring him a little something, so I had a wad of greenbacks as thick as a simile’s better half stuck in my inside pocket…
Billy was behind Al’s Place. I guessed by the look in his eyes that he’d had a few shots, but it hadn’t quite gotten rid of the nasty taste in his mouth. I guess nothing ever would. If I knew what he knew right then, I’d be pretty damn shaky too.
“What is it?” I asked, scowling under the rain-filled brim of my fedora whilst Billy snuck a furtive glance at the back door of Al’s, the fear in his face lit up in gaudy yellow and orange as the neon buzzed into life.
“I-It’s…” he stuttered.
“C’mon, Billy…” I growled, pulling out the notes and beginning to count.
“No, no! I don’t want your money, please!” he whined. Billy refusing a hundred bucks was like a coke addict refusing a Hollywood party. I grabbed his shirt collar, dragging him toward me through a pool of stagnant water. He began to talk.
“They say it was some European guy with a weird accent…blond, blue eyes, had the whole Aryan thing going on, you know?” Billy paused.
“He killed her, Ray….”
“The Blog, Ray. The one we never read….we never saw it coming. And now….” I let him go, and he fell backwards, staring vacantly into the air to one side of my shoulder. “And now she ain’t never coming back…