Chapter 39
“READY, GEORGIE?” I SAY.
“Sure you wanna' do this, Moonlight?” he begs. “It’s
creepy.”
“I know it’s wrong,” I say, already feeling the ice cold
pangs of what it is I’m about to do. “I’m a funeral director’s son. I, of all
people, know how wrong this is. But Sissy is gone now, and it’s for a good
cause. Besides, look who we’re about to deal with. A Russian mobster who claims
to be directly related to Uncle Joe Stalin. Stalin killed more innocent people
than Hitler.”
Georgie reaches into the glove compartment, draws out two
lengths of rope, and a tube of KY jelly. He makes a swift underhanded pitch and
tosses the items onto Sissy, where they settle on top of her black body bag.
I pull out my .38, open the van door and step on out while
buttoning up my leather coat.
