Chapter 6

Van Daddock was struggling to read Julie's suicide note, which Bobby was holding in front of his face. It might have been easier if Bobby didn't have his foot on his throat, but he chose not to complain about that.

When he'd finished reading, he managed to rasp out, "I don't know anything about that! I haven't seen Julie in months!"

Bobby ground his foot a little more forcefully into his neck, cutting off his air supply.

"Care to try that one again?" he asked coldly. "You had an appointment with Julie tonight. You were blackmailing Julie. You were giving Julie drugs. So what happened to Julie tonight, you piece of shit?"

When Bobby let up enough on his throat for him to speak, he replied frantically, "I didn't do anything to her!" he protested. "She went crazy, man. She had a gun, and she fucking shot me!"

"You don't look shot to me," Bobby replied softly. Van didn't know which Bobby to be more afraid of — when Bobby spoke loudly, or when he spoke softly. He suspected the soft spoken Bobby was probably the one he should fear the most.

"She did! The bullet hit my cigarette case!" he cried. "That's the only reason she didn't kill me. Look, I can show you, it's in my pocket!"

Van pulled the case out and held it up. Bobby took a glance at it and put it in a pocket of his jeans.

"So what happened after that?" asked Bobby in a voice so soft that Van had to strain to hear it.

"Nothing! I just got the fuck out of there."

"So Julie shot you, and you just left. She didn't try to shoot you again? She just let you go?"

Van thought furiously. He thought if he told Bobby that Julie was lying on the floor dead when he left, he'd probably never get up off this floor alive.

"She... she tried to! But she missed! And that's all I know, man! I just ran away."

"You didn't call the police, after she fired two shots at you?" asked Bobby gently, as if talking to a wayward child.

"N- no. I just wanted to get away from her."

Bobby reached behind his back, and produced Julie's revolver. "Did her pistol look anything like this?" he asked conversationally.

'Oh, fuck!' thought Van.

"I don't know! I didn't get a look at it when she was shooting me!" he said desperately.

"Oh it's hers all right," Bobby assured him. "And you know what? Only one bullet's been fired."

He flipped open the cylinder and spun it in front of Van's face. As it came to a stop, Van could see the menacing dull grey heads of the remaining five bullets pointing at him. Bobby snapped the cylinder back into place.

"Care to try another story?" he asked.

Van was beginning to lose the ability to have a coherent thought.

"Why did Julie let you go, Van?" said Bobby insistently.

"Because... because when I woke up she was lying on the floor, man. She fucking killed herself, man! I didn't do anything to her, I swear!"

"Well now, we know she didn't shoot herself, don't we?" he said, gesturing with the pistol with its one spent round. "So if you didn't kill her, how was she able to kill herself?"

"She... she fucking OD'd man. She OD'd! I didn't kill her!"

"Julie told me that you were her source for drugs, Van. What did you give her that she could overdose and kill herself with?"

Van was beginning to have a small shred of hope that he might survive. Telling the truth seemed to be working better than any lies he could concoct.

"I brought her some... some heroin. She had been asking for it, and I finally was able to get some for her. Usually she just wanted the coke and grass that I brought her. But she kept asking and asking, so I finally got some for her."

He paused, deciding it best to just say what happened.

"When I woke up, the heroin was all gone, and she was dead on the floor. I saw her there, and man I just panicked. I got out of there as fast as I could."

Bobby stared down at him coldly. "So you didn't call 911 for her?"

"She was dead, man! I just got out of there."

"So you brought her the heroin she took to kill herself, but you left without calling nine-one-one. Do I have that right, Van Daddock?"

"Yes, yes! That's all I did! I swear!"

Bobby lifted his foot from his throat, as Van sighed with relief. The relief was short lived. Bobby pulled the recorder from his sweatshirt pocket and turned it off in front of Van's horrified eyes.

"Let's go for a ride, Van."