23
Next day, before the funeral, I rang Bill Cassell. He barked,
“What do you want, Taylor?”
“Gee, Bill, what happened to Jack?”
“Don’t f**k with me today, fellah.”
“I found the woman.”
Intake of breath, then,
“Where?”
“Newcastle.”
“Tell me about it.”
I did.
He was silent as he digested the data. I said,
“So, we’re quits…right?”
“What?”
“You said I could wipe the slate if I found her.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re clear.”
I could have left it, but I wanted to needle the f**k, said, “You don’t sound so good, Bill.”
“Casey got shot.”
Push a tad further, asked,
“Who’s Casey?”
Low mean chuckle and,
“Surprised you’ve forgotten him. Big guy in a white track-suit, held you during our last little chat. Course you never got to see Nev, and if you’re lucky, you never will.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah
