Chapter 25But that was not what I told myself the following day. Oh the day started out all right. I had enjoyed a long, restful sleep and a good breakfast, the makings of which I had picked up at an all-night food store after leaving the Elbow. It had been a while—too long—since I had diced some canned sardines and blended them into homemade pancakes smothered with Aunt Jemima syrup. My ex-wife used to say that she could vomit when she saw me eating this concoction; I told her to go ahead, it would do both of us good.
Then the phone rang. It was Polish Phil.
“Hey, Phil, how're doing, pal? I was going to visit you today, if you want to see my handsome mug. And who wouldn't?”
Phil didn't laugh. Instead, he informed me that Louise's husband had been killed. I wanted to say that that was g
