After Midnight

“Something to whet my appetite. Enough to make me take the risk. I mean, five thousand dollars…That’s a load of money.”

“Suppose I tell you that I killed two people last night—in self-defense—and one of them was probably a serial killer?”

He gaped at me.

“What do you say to that?” I asked.

“If it’s true…”

“It’s true.”

“Do the police know about it?”

“I don’t think so. I sure didn’t tell them. But they’ll find out eventually. Today, probably. But maybe not till tomorrow or the next day. It all depends on when certain things turn up.”

“Bodies?”

“Basically.”

“You should tell the cops. Especially if…you said you killed them in self-defense, right?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Is it true?”

“Pretty much.”

“Pretty much? You mean it wasn’t self-defense?”

“No, it was. Yeah. It’s just…all sort of complicated.”

“You’ve gotta tell the cops.”

“Bullshit. Don’t give me that.”

“Is Tony one of the people you killed?”

“I’m not saying. I’m not telling you anything else. Not till I’ve got the money.”

Scowling, he took off his glasses. He rubbed his eyes as if he were suddenly feeling very tired. Then he muttered, “Man, oh man.”

“How about it?”

He shook his head. “This is a real mess. I had no idea you’d killed anyone.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a story for you if I hadn’t.”

“But how can I write it?”

“You’re a fiction writer. Turn it into fiction. Change all the names—not that you know my real name, anyway.”

“I guess I could do that. But if anyone finds out…”

“I’ll never tell, you can bet on that.”

“What if they catch you?”

“They won’t. I’ve covered my tracks. There’s absolutely no evidence connecting me to anything.”

“There’s me,” he said.

“I know.”

He gave me a weary smile.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “You don’t know enough to do me any harm. What could you tell the cops?”

He shrugged slightly. “Not much.”

“At this point, you don’t know who I killed, or how, or where. For all you know, I’ve been lying about everything. Also, you don’t know who I am. You don’t even really know what I look like.”

With a smile, he said, “So, you don’t think you’ll have to kill me?”

I smiled back. “Only if you don’t pay up.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll take a check?”

“Cash only.”

“I’ll have to pay a visit to the bank.”

“I’ll have to go with you.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said. “But you might want to think twice about going in. They have those security cameras.”

I grimaced. He was right about the cameras. Even with the wig on, I didn’t like the idea of being caught on video tape. But if I didn’t go inside with him…

“How do I know you won’t snitch on me?” I asked.

“I won’t. But I don’t expect you to believe it.” He shook his head. He drank some beer. “There must be a way.”

I drank some beer and frowned and tried to think of something, too.

After a while, he said, “I don’t know.”

“Come on. You’re the writer. Think of something.”

“Well, I’ve got no intention of turning you in. You might just try a flying leap of faith.”

“Yeah, right. You seem like a good guy, Murphy, but I’m not ready to trust you with my life.”

“Suppose you had something on me? If I turn you in, you turn me in.”

That seemed like a pretty good idea. I should’ve thought of it myself. But I saw a big problem with it. “What are you going to do,” I asked. “Kill somebody?”

“Maybe nothing quite that drastic.”

“It’d have to be drastic. Something you’d at least go to prison for. And something that nobody could know about except me, so you’d be completely in my hands.”

He shrugged.

I felt a sudden rush of heat that must’ve turned my face bright red.

Murphy saw.

“What?” he asked.

Feeling all squirmy inside, I said, “Nothing.”

“Come on. Have you got an idea?”

“Well…yeah, but it’s pretty far out.”

“That’s not always a bad thing. Sometimes, far out’s the only way to go. Let’s hear your idea.”

“How would you like to rape me?”

It was his turn to get red. His mouth drooped open. He said, “Uh. What?”

“Told you it was far out.”

“Rape you?”

“Right. Well, more like pretend to rape me.” I tried to smile, but didn’t do a very good job of it. I felt awfully embarrassed and excited. I was trembling like mad. Streams of sweat were dribbling down my sides.

“Geez,” Murphy said. “I don’t know.”

“You’d have to really go through with it, though. We can’t just say you did it. I’d need the physical evidence to prove my case against you.”

Looking flushed and disoriented and a little amused, he said, “And this would be so you’d have leverage to keep me from tipping off the bank teller, or someone, that I’ve got a killer in my car?”

“Basically.”

“Which I have no intention of doing, anyway.”

“So you say.”

“It’s the truth.”

“This’ll be my insurance. I won’t even go with you to the bank. I’ll stay here and wait. If the cops come to arrest me, they’ll find a rape victim in your bed.”

“You’re nuts,” he said, looking terribly nervous but amused.

“Think so?”

“Definitely.”

“How about it?”

“It’s not rape if you consent, so it wouldn’t really be a crime.”

“Nobody’ll ever know I consented. And we’ll make sure it looks like a rape. I’m already pretty banged up from