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Show pageTX" c h i l l y . Evil, that woman. The kid was s i t t i n g there with Bessie's coat on, eating out of the sack, like Bessie, her hair blonde. Greedy, that woman, couldn't wait ' t i l we got in the show - eating out of the sack. Nobody in sight. Dark. I d i d n ' t make a sound when I grabbed her. I squeezed and squeezed. Trickery. A bitch, that woman. It wasn't Bessie. That woman tricked me, tricked me good." He stopped, gasped wheezingly, death dew on h i s forehead. A f ly appeared from somewhere, buzzed around his head and landed s t i c k i l y on h i s nose. The fly rubbed i t s legs and crawled toward his eyes. Ralph Hardcastle looked entreatingly at the group around his bed. John Henson, a lifelong p a c i f i s t , said nothing. Chief Lattimore studied the fly. His face hovered over the man and the f l y , unfeelingly. "Blow him off, Ralph," 'he said. Hardcastle blew, feebly, but missed. I t was his last breath. The Henson case was closed. |