Chapter Eighteen
It was a quiet Sunday night at Murphy's Tavern. I didn't go in. Wasn't a good idea for me to be seen in my usual haunts just now. Too many of the wrong eyes were open.
I parked the hatchback five blocks away and parked my ass in a pizza shop half a block down. The decor was psychedelic. The t-shirts on the staff, and on the wall, were tie-dyed. The chairs were plastic, the cheap lawn furniture you get at the big box store. The beer was cold, thank God.
The pizza shop and the bar closed at the same time. When they kicked me out, I went out the back, around the dumpster, behind the shop that sold t-shirts and nicknacks for tourists, and into the adjoining alley next to Murphy's, where the staff parked. I waited there another hour. A couple of times the back door opened. S
