Brill said. “So you two decided to meet up here, to hash it out?” Eddie stared at the dome light and tried to delete the mental image of Jimmy Whistle in the grave. He thought about Whistle’s son, Jimmy junior, who didn’t yet know that he had lost the father he barely remembered. It was another tree-falls-in-the-woods question. If he hadn’t seen his father in thirty years, would his murder matter? “What about it, Bourque?” Brill demanded. Eddie had conducted enough adversarial interviews as a reporter to know that using logic against crazy scenarios was no way to win. “My statement from before stands,” he said. “I found this place on my own. I dug the floor. Discovered a skull. Got jumped. Fought for my life. Called you guys as soon as I found help.” Brill looked away for a moment. As he turned, Eddie watched the bulging trapezoidal muscle at the base of his neck squirm under his shirt like a cobra getting comfortable.
What do You think about Speak Ill Of The Living (2011)?
