Eddie tossed it on the couch, searched him with his free hand. In Stimmer’s right pants pocket was a straight razor with a bone handle. Eddie put it beside the gun. “Watch him,” he said to Terry. He walked through the apartment. Living room, bedroom, eat-in kitchen, and bathroom. A few clothes in a bedroom bureau, nothing in the closet but an empty suitcase. He went back into the living room, turned on a table lamp. Stimmer had rolled into a sitting position. Eddie could see the fading bruises on his face, a purple spot on the side of his jaw. Eddie picked up the canvas bag, tossed it to Terry. “Check that out.” Stimmer was watching them. “Wallet,” Eddie said. Stimmer’s eyes were watery with pain, but no fear. He reached behind, drew out a thick wallet, tossed it at Eddie’s feet. Eddie picked it up, sat on the couch. “What do you want?” Stimmer said. Eddie ignored him, put the Star away, looked though the wallet. Two hundred in cash, credit cards, and a driver’s license.
