Американские боги

           ShadowwasabouttoreachforHinzelmann,totrytotakethepokerawayfromhim,whentheoldmanthrewtheburningpokeratChadMulligan.

           Hinzelmannthrewitawkwardly,lobbingitacrosstheroomasifforform’ssake,andashethrewithewasalreadyhurryingforthedoor.

           ThepokerglancedoffChad’sleftarm.

           Thenoiseoftheshot,intheclosequartersoftheoldman’sroom,wasdeafening.

           Oneshottothehead,andthatwasall.

           Mulligansaid,"Bettergetyourclotheson."Hisvoicewasdullanddead.

           Shadownodded.Hewalkedtotheroomnextdoor,openedthedooroftheclothesdryerandpulledouthisclothes.Thejeanswerestilldamp.Heputthemonanyway.Bythetimehegotbacktotheden,fullydressed—exceptforhiscoat,whichwassomewheredeepinthefreezingmudofthelake,andhisboots,whichhecouldnotfind—Mulliganhadalreadyhauledseveralsmolderinglogsoutfromthefireplace.

           Mulligansaid,"It’sabaddayforacopwhenhehastocommitarson,justtocoverupamurder."ThenhelookedupatShadow."Youneedboots,"hesaid.

           "Idon’tknowwhereheputthem,"saidShadow.

           "Hell,"saidMulligan.Thenhesaid,"Sorryaboutthis,Hinzelmann,"andhepickedtheoldmanupbythecollarandbythebeltbuckle,andheswunghimforward,droppedthebodywithitsheadrestingintheopenfireplace.