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I turned on the light and lifted the pillow slowly. Her mouth was halfway open and her glassy brown eyes were looking at the ceiling.

I got out of bed quickly. I started pacing my apartment, deciding what to do next. I knew I had to figure out a way to get rid of her body. It was probably stupid to put that pillow over her face without thinking it through first, but what choice did I have?

Sitting down again, I started to doze off next to her and I knew this was a bad idea. I couldn’t go to sleep now—what if Debbie was wrong and that detective had followed her to my apartment? He could be outside right now, waiting for her to leave.

I stood up out of bed and went to the kitchen sink and splashed my face with ice-cold water. Then I leaned out the window, looking for the detective. But I just saw a couple of people, on their way home from work, and a black guy across the street, looking in garbage cans.

I had to come up with a plan. I was shooting blanks, then, thinking harder, I decided that I had to get the body into my car somehow and dump it someplace outside of Manhattan. But there was no way I could do that now, with so many people around. I’d have to wait until the middle of the night—midnight at least. In the meantime, I’d just have to hope that detective wasn’t watching me.

It was twenty past five. I decided to go into work tonight after all. I had to act like it was a normal night. If the cops came around asking questions I’d have to be able to explain where I was all night. Besides, I knew that if I went to sleep now there was no way I was getting up in a few hours.

I took a shower. It felt good, getting clean again, but I was afraid I was going to pass out and I held onto the soap rack the whole time.

It seemed like a bad idea to leave the body just lying there, so I covered it with a blanket and then I piled up the couch cushions on top.

I finished getting ready for work, putting on my usual jeans, black crew-neck, and motorcycle boots, but I missed my gold barbell chain. I realized I was starving and then I saw the two containers of hot-and-sour soup that Debbie had brought over for me. I drank the lukewarm soup straight from the containers, then I put on my leather coat and left the apartment.

Outside my building, I looked around, but there didn’t seem to be anybody watching me. There were still some flurries coming down, but the snow was pretty much gone from the sidewalks. It was getting cold again—the wind whipping down First Avenue like a motherfucker—and I missed the eighty or whatever the hell degrees it was in Las Vegas.

I was glad it was a Wednesday night and the weather was bad because the last thing I felt like doing tonight was checking a lot of IDs. Gary was supposed to work tonight, but Gil was behind the bar, so I figured Gary was still pissed off at Frank or maybe he had quit for good.

“Hey,” I said to Gil.

“How’s it going, Tommy?”

Gil didn’t look up from his book when he was talking to me. There were about ten people in the bar and a reggae CD was playing on the stereo.

“Frank around?” I asked.

“He went out for a second. He’ll be right back.”

I went to hang up my coat. Kathy came by with a tray of mozzarella sticks.

“Hey, how’s it going, Kath?”

“Fine,” she said, walking past me.

I was still hungry, but I didn’t feel like dealing with Rodrigo in the kitchen. I figured I’d just order a pizza or something later on. When I came back out front, Frank was just coming into the bar.

“What’s this?” he said. “You growing a beard?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Like it?”

“It’s okay.” He looked at me closer. “You feeling okay?”

“I just didn’t get too much sleep last night.”

“It’s gonna be a slow night. If you want, you can go home. Gil’s gonna take off soon, but Kathy can cover the bar.”

“It’s all right,” I said.

Frank went to the back. The room was starting to spin and I felt like I was going to pass out for real. Without my coat on, I jogged down the block to the Korean deli. I bought a large coffee, a couple of those little carrot cakes, two Snickers bars, and two packs of Starburst. I figured that filling myself up with sugar and caffeine might be the only thing to keep me awake.

When I got back to the bar Frank was sitting at a table across from a fat man with curly brown hair. I’d never seen the guy before, but I knew right away that he was the detective Frank had hired.

The guy was wearing a big black winter jacket, jeans, and work boots. He looked over at me for a second, then he looked back at Frank. Over the reggae music, I couldn’t hear everything he was saying, although a couple of times I heard him say “Debbie.” But I wasn’t worried. If the detective saw Debbie going into my apartment today, he would have come to talk to me by now. I sat down at the bar with my coffee and opened one of the carrot cakes. Looking straight ahead, I was watching Frank and the detective in the mirror behind the bar, and there was a break in the music so I picked up on more of their conversation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” the detective was saying. “I went back to the building and the doorman said he didn’t see her go in. I hung out awhile, for maybe an hour, but she didn’t come back.”

“Well, what can you do?” Frank said. “You’ll just have to try again tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch her,” the detective said. “I just need another day or two and tomorrow I’m gonna wear a disguise so she won’t see me.”

“Do whatever you have to do,” Frank said.

After they bullshitted for a little while longer, Frank and the detective stood up and shook hands. Then the detective left the bar without looking in my direction. Frank came over and sat down on the stool next to me.

“That was the guy I told you I hired to follow Debbie.”

“He find anything out?”

“He saw her leaving the building this afternoon, probably on her way to meet one of her lover boys, when she stopped and told a cop that some guy was following her. So the cop stopped Fred—that’s his name—and by the time Fred explained what was going on, Debbie was gone—in a cab.”

“That really sucks Easter eggs, huh?” I said.

“I just hope this guy Fred knows what he’s doing—Gil, lemme get one on the rocks—I mean he’s a professional so he should know.”

“I don’t think you gotta worry,” I said. “Knowing the way Debbie gets around I bet he’ll get some good pictures for you to use in no time.”

Now Frank was staring off. I realized I’d probably said the wrong thing.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s all right. You’re just telling the goddamn truth.”

Gil put down Frank’s drink. Frank took a long sip then said, “You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but in a way I still love her. Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“No, I understand,” I said. “I mean she’s your wife, you share the same bed...”

“I know you’re right,” Frank said. “You’ve always been right, giving me good advice, but I never had the sense to listen to you. The shrinks have a name for what I’m talking about—Jesus, I swear, my fuckin’ mind’s going.”

“But you know what I think?” I said. “I think once she’s out of the picture you’ll forget all about her. You’ll be out there in Arizona with all those beautiful women—you’ll find somebody who’ll treat you a lot better than Debbie ever did.”