Chapter 22

My intention was not to eat. On the contrary, I simply wanted to dispose of Max Sheppner and move on with my night. The guy was in the way, even if destiny had brought us together with a simple fuck up. I couldn’t travel with him, and certainly didn’t want to. Frankly, I wanted to get my ass out of town, but first I had a simple and quick task: to slice his throat open and toss his body into the lake, next to a small boat called Lucinda 3, which floated on the lake’s surface and was docked closest to the restaurant.

The shit went down in a matter of seconds, some of which was sloppy. As we stood on the boarded deck, underneath the crescent moon, facing each other in the light and humid wind, he looked for his keys to Pier 19 in one of his front pockets. Wood sounded as if it rocked and squeaked nearby, an owl hooted somewhere, and I felt inexplicably nervous.