Chapter 33
“Do you know what I’m saying?” he asks, sounding delirious.
I stand there, speechless, wondering where he is going with all this gibberish. “I don’t know, sir.”
“I couldn’t control myself,” he says.
It all sounds like a confession to me.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
His nose is bleeding again, a thin syrupy line of dark blood trickling through the maze of his mustache and mouth, and congealing in his wiry beard.
“Chief?”
“I feel sick,” he says.
From tasting your blood or committing murder?
“Why?” I ask.
His complexion turns pale and chalky and he looks like he might throw up. “I did what I had to do. I did what I thought was right.”
“Tell me what happened.”
His bravery is shattered with fear when he looks at me with a spooky stare. His ego is crumbling in front of me.
I can’t say I’m not amused. It all seems right and fair.
I listen to his confession.