annodized, as if the truth had reverted him to a six-foot block of cement.
'Come on, let's do it again,' Kath purred, cupping the man's genitals. 'Stew doesn't get home till six.'
'Christ, Kath! I done come in ya twice already. Give a guy a chance to get it up again!'
'You'll get it up.' she assured, 'and when you do, I want it up the ass.'
'Aw, shit, aw, Christ, honey, you sure know how to suck a cock.'
What the universe was now treating Cummings to, of course, was the witness of his wife performing expert fellatio on this Jimmy, the town general practitioner, who lay back in Cummings bed with his eyes closed.
And, next—
The swamp rat slopped.
When the doctor opened his eyes, though. Cummings' gun was in his face. The face drained. The mouth opened to speak.
Kath's head rose, her naked body bucked. She screamed. Jimmy's head emptied glistening brains on the pillow.
'Stew!' Kath shrieked, turning in a blur of flesh. 'I—'
She lay back howling.
'Just to make sure you don't go anywhere,' Cummings said, reholstering his Smith. No, he hadn't killed her. He'd blown out her kneecaps.
Then he walked out of the house and put the gym bag back in the trunk.
Yes, it was a cruel world indeed, and it was about to get a little bit crueller.
From the trunk he retrieved the box he'd taken out of the old man's cottage, the box containing the evidence: the power drill, the knife, and the hole-saw bit.
Cummings' gaze turned to the sky. It was a beautiful day. He lit a Lucky, dragged, and let the smoke eddy from his mouth. Then he grabbed the box.
It was a short walk back to the house.
