
The girl set the decapitated head on the table. The mouth moved but it takes more than a mouth to form words and he was missing everything from the neck down. She turned the head so it could gaze on the man sitting on the other side. The bluesman adjust his fedora and leaned close to the severed head. “What did he call himself?” “I don’t know, Powertool Paul or something equally stupid.” The severed head mouthed a silent protest. He felt Powertool Paul was an awesome name. “You said one for one. I brought you one.” “You did,” the bluesman said as he reached into the pocket of his sharkskin suit. He pulled out a single sheet of paper folded in quarters. He slid it across the table to her. She opened it and found written in black ink was a time and a place. “Which one?” she asked. “The collectors, Manny and Tommy.” She nodded. “Remember it’s one for one.” “Are you saying I can’t kill them both?” “Not if you want to keep having my help.” “Which one?” “That’s up to you.” 6 66 “Dude, that