“Christ, Algiers, you look worse than the corpse. What’s up?”

I shook my head numbly.

Vincent leaned over and slapped me. “Algiers! Snap out of it. Focus on my lips. What’s. Wrong?” He spoke slowly, as if to a dim-witted child.

“The girl,” I managed to sigh.

“Like you’ve never seen a corpse before. It ain’t like you know her or anything.” He started to laugh, then stopped, his eyes narrowing. “Or do you?”

I nodded wordlessly.

“Shit.” He licked his lips. “Who is she?”

“Nuh-Nuh-Nuh-Nuh,” I stuttered.

“You wanna sit down? Doc, you got a chair?”

“I might be able to rustle one up,” came the dry reply.

“No. Don’t need one,” I gasped. “I’ll be OK.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“So who is she?”

“She’s…”

“Here we go again. Take a deep breath, Algiers. Concentrate.”

I looked him in the eye and said it. “Her name’s Nic Hornyak.” A moment’s silent beat and I added the kicker. “She’s my girlfriend.”

4

First things first — we had to take Nic’s body back to the Skylight. Vincent offered me an out but I said I’d see the job through. I’d been trained not to let personal feelings get in the way of work.

We said nothing as we crossed the city. What was there to say?

I averted my eyes as we bundled the corpse into the elevator at the Skylight. The general manager was waiting on the eighth floor with four Troops, who silently accepted our consignment. Vincent accompanied them to 812, making sure everything was suitably arranged. I stayed by the elevator, rubbing my hands up and down the sides of my thighs, wondering if this could be a dream. Maybe it was still Friday and I was upriver with Bill, dozing on the damp grassy banks.