“Tell us about the other body,” says Julie. “They killed two people that night?”
Varg shrugs.
“I don’t know. But they both looked dead to me.”
He whispers to me as he stares at Vincent. “How’s he walking around?”
“Well, Varg, that’s the Angel of Death. Want to meet him?”
“No way.”
“Smart boy.”
“Which way did they go when they left?” says Candy.
He points outside opposite of the way we came.
I say, “Was one of the men here that night dressed like a used car salesman?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, flashy. Not normal flashy like in a magazine. Old flashy like you’d see on Starsky & Hutch.”
“Yeah, I know them. But no. I didn’t see anyone like that. They were all wearing robes or some shit. I couldn’t see anyone’s regular clothes.”
“You took the knife from his chest,” says Julie, pointing to Vincent. “Why?”
“Did you see it? It was cool.”
“And it came out of a real live dead guy, right? Your friends would love that.”
Varg nods.
“None of those pussies would touch it. But I did.”
“Thanks, Varg,” I say. “If you hadn’t done that, Vincent over there might not have woken up.”
“I thought you said he was the Angel of Death.”
“He is.”
“The Angel of Death’s name is Vincent?”
“Your name sounds like a dog fart, Varg, so don’t get pushy.”
“Sorry.”
“Anyone have any other questions for Lemmy?”
Candy comes over.
“Let me see your driver’s license.”
Varg gets out his wallet and gives her the license.
She photographs it, then reads it over.
“Now we know your real name, Danny, and where you live. Don’t tell anyone you talked to us and don’t try to run away or we’ll send Vincent after you.”