CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Marv, you sly, sly, man,” I said, digging my hands in my gabardine pockets and rocking on my heels as I beheld the body of my new servant.
A n***d black man lay on a metal table with a sheet over his midsection.
Bald, six feet tall, and a mix of fat and muscle. Wrestler’s build.
“Heart attack,” Marv said. “The family doesn't believe in embalming.”
“And I, for one, am grateful for that,” I said.
“Name’s Oscar Jackson,” Marv said.
“He’s a big boy,” Bo said. “That’s a whole lotta body for a little spirit like me.”
I turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “Don't get scared on me now.”
Marv folded his arms and shook his head at me.
I forgot that he couldn't see Bo.
“You look like a damn fool, talking to yourself like that,” he said. “I swear, Lester, if you're lying to
