Page 51 of The Forest of Lost Souls

“Under pressure. He wants to change his mind.”

“He can’t.”

“No, he can’t. But there were negotiations on Saturday.”

“Negotiations? Shit. Montrose is an unreliable ally. You don’t negotiate with weasels like him.”

Regis agrees. “Can’t trust him. He has sympathy for the Nochelobo crowd.”

“He sold them out,” Vector says, raising his voice, offended by the former sheriff’s sudden attack of conscience. “If the shithead feels guilty, he wants to give the money back, then we soak it in gasoline and make him eat it and light his breath on fire, see if does he just become a human blowtorch or maybe his gut explodes.”

Not for the first time, Regis finds it puzzling that a man who looks as frivolous as Galen Vector can be so ruthless. Holding a forefinger beside his lips to remind the crime boss that discretion is required in this world of eavesdroppers, Regis mutters, “Killing a sheriff is no small thing.”

“Former sheriff. And never popular. He wasn’t a people’s sheriff.”

“They elected him.”

“Some did. Most didn’t.”

“You’re saying it was fixed?”

“As sure as I know my name.”

“Well, I didn’t need to know that.”

“Yeah, you did. I’m making a point here.”

“What point?” Regis asks.

“Say a prick like Montrose dies in a house fire.”

“So then?”

“You think a thousand assholes are gonna show up with flowers and teddy bears to lay in his front yard?”

“Hard to picture.”

“Most are gonna say it should’ve happened years ago.”

“Still, it’s got to look like a heart attack or something, and Nash Deacon’s got to be in the loop.”

“You said Nash is dead.”

“I said something happened to him, he might even be dead, but we don’t know.”

“If he was supposed to call the big guy by noon, but he hasn’t called him yet, then he’s stupid or dead, and he’s not stupid.”

“He’s been stupid in the way men sometimes are, thinking with his little head instead of his big head.”

“Yeah? Who’s the bitch?”

“Nochelobo’s squeeze.”

“Are you shittin’ me?”

“GPS says he went there four days last week, including Friday, when he never left.”

“That Trans Am is too old for GPS.”

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