I killed him, he said. I think I killed him, the man said into the payphone.

Well. Which is it? Did you kill him or not? his friend responded. Was he moving? Just lay there still? he poured a shot of whisky into his rocks glass. Poured in a bit of water. What happened? Tell me, he said calmly.

I was in a bar. This guy kept saying the wrong things. He was trying to get my goat, he told him.

Sounds like he did.

He was some stinking Hoosier. Running his mouth about women and money, blood from his hand dripped on the phone. He leaned on the booth.

What’s that got to do with you? Is it your mission to get kicked out of every bar in Chicago?

I think he’s dead.

Where is he?

Behind the bar.

Did anybody see this?

No. I don’t think so. I’m not sure.

I see. What? Did you shoot him?

Bare hands.

You killed a man with your bare hands?

I believe so.

Put the body in your trunk and drive down 41. Dump it in the Kankakee River. It’ll be high. It’ll suck it right down.

Yeah.

Yes. And, don’t ever call me again. You hear me? Head down South. Or go to California. Start all over again.

I got a girl.

You got nothing. Just leave. Take your money out and leave.

What about my job?

Just leave.