"Help! Murder!" screamed Eddie. "Somebody call the cops! Help!"

Kurtz let him scream for a few seconds and then dragged him back into the main room and dropped him into a chair next to the table. The pounding on the wall had stopped, but Kurtz could hear shouts from the neighbors.

"The cops are coming," gasped Eddie Falco. "The cops'll be here in a minute."

"Tell me about Sam," Kurtz said softly.

Eddie clutched the bloody rag around his hand, glanced toward the open window as if expecting sirens, and licked his lips. He mumbled something.

Kurtz gave him a hearty handshake. This time, the screaming was so loud that even the neighbors fell silent.

"Sam," said Kurtz.

"She found out about the coke deal when she was looking for that runaway brat." Eddie's voice was a gagging monotone. "I didn't even know her fucking name." He looked up at Kurtz. "It wasn't me, you know. It was Levine."

"Levine said it was you."

Eddie's eyes flickered back and forth. "He's lying. Get him in here and ask him. He killed her. I just waited in the car."

"Levine isn't around anymore," said Kurtz, his tone conversational. "Did you rape her before you cut her throat?"

"I tell you it wasn't me. It was that goddamn Le—" Eddie started screaming again.

Kurtz released the shapeless pulp that had been Eddie Falco's nose. "Did you rape her first?"

"Yeah." Something like defiance flickered in Eddie's eyes. "Fucking cunt put up a fight, tried to—"

"Okay," said Kurtz, patting Eddie on his bloody shoulder. "We're about done."

"Whaddaya mean?" The defiance turned to terror.

"I mean the cops will be here in a minute. Anything else you want to tell me?"