“SO WHAT IS IT you girls want?” I say, knowing if we don’t get Sissy’s body back to the morgue in less than an hour, I will not only be wanted for murder, but also body snatching.
“I don’t know,” says the one, who is now obviously Erica, to her twin. “What exactly do we want, Vanessa?”
“We don’t need any money,” Vanessa says. “We got lots of that now. Thanks to Roger and his booze.”
I steal a glance at the author. He’s passed out from the pistol whipping Alexander Stalin gave him. He’s mumbling in his sleep. Something about wanting another round for everyone. He’s buying.
“You took Roger’s money,” I say. “The million the Russians put up. You must have both been present when Roger went to the train station for the payoff. One of you sits at the table with
