Part 25 (1/2)

He giggled and slapped his thigh. ”No, no. That's the great part.”

”Letters,” I said. ”Why would Karen Nichols write letters to you, Cody?”

”Because she wanted it, Pat. She was dying for it. She was as c.o.c.k hungry as they all are.”

I shook my head.

”Don't believe me? Ha! Hang on, I'll get them.”

He stood up and handed the gun to Leonard.

Leonard said, ”What am I supposed to-?”

”Shoot him if he moves.”

”He's tied up.”

”I pay your freight, Leonard. Don't f.u.c.king back-talk me.”

Cody walked out of the kitchen and then his footsteps charged up the stairs.

Leonard placed the gun on the counter and sighed.

”Leonard,” I said.

”Don't talk to me, b.i.t.c.h.”

”He's warming to this idea. He's not going to-”

”I said-”

”-chill out by noon, if that's what you're hoping.”

”-shut your f.u.c.king hole.”

”Killing someone, he's thinking, how b.a.l.l.sy. A new experience experience.”

”Shut up up.” Leonard placed the heels of his hands over his eyes.

”And when he does, Leonard, I mean come on, you think he's smart enough not to get caught?”

”Lotta people don't.”

”Sure,” I said, ”but this is strictly A ball around here. He'll f.u.c.k up. Take a kill trophy home with him, tell a friend or a stranger in a bar. And then what, Leonard? You think he's going to stand tall when the DA shows up?”

”I'm telling you to shut the-”

”He'll roll like a bowling ball on a ski slope, Leonard. Give you up like he's b.u.t.tering toast.”

Leonard picked up the gun, pointed it at me. ”Shut up or I'll do you myself. Right now.”