The Book of Death (Bourbon Kid 4)

play. He strummed one
note on it and began to sing.
‘Down
to the crossroads…’
    JD reached inside his jacket and
pulled out his gun again. He pointed it at Jacko’s face. ‘Shut. The. Fuck. Up,’
he snarled.
    Jacko stopped playing and pointed
up at the sign marked PURGATORY. ‘Keep walking ’til you find yourself ready to
start over.’

 
    Twenty-Nine

 
    With The Book of Death tucked
securely underneath his left armpit Sanchez trudged through the snow on his way
back to his squad car, which he had parked just around the corner. He’d parked
in a disabled bay even though there were spaces nearer the library. There were
far too many locals with disabled permits that they didn’t deserve, so now that
he was a police officer and could park where he liked, he’d gone straight for
the disabled zone. In hindsight it was a decision he was beginning to regret
because the air was biting cold. He couldn’t recall Santa Mondega ever being so
cold before. It was still fucking dark everywhere too. The only consolation was
that with the streetlights on and the snow settled on the ground, the place did
look quite festive for once. Not that Sanchez was a fan of Christmas. It just
gave more people an excuse to beg for money or badger him in the street to
donate to the homeless who apparently suffer worse than usual in the holiday
season. Sanchez couldn’t see quite how, because they seemed to get free stuff
all year round and at Christmas they just got more. It still rankled with him
that the tramps could get free soup at the local homeless shelter, yet he was
only allowed to smell it from afar.
    This morning’s soup was chicken
flavour, judging by the inviting aroma coming from the polystyrene cup that a
tramp sitting at the corner of the street was sipping from. He was an old guy
in a tattered green raincoat and a pair of torn grey pants. He had no shoes
either, just thick grey socks with holes where his toes poked through them.
Sanchez pretended not to see him in the hopes that he could make it past
without being harassed for any money. As he walked past him though, the tramp
looked up.
    ‘Spare some change officer?’ he
asked. ‘For a cup of coffee.’
    ‘Sorry, haven’t got any.’
    The tramp reached out with one
hand and grabbed hold of a handful of cloth on Sanchez’s pants. He tugged at
them, causing Sanchez to almost lose his footing. He had a pretty tight grip
for an old guy too. Sanchez tried to shake him off in the same manner that he
would have shaken off a randy dog trying to hump his leg, but this old fucker
wasn’t going to let go without a struggle.
    ‘Listen stinky,’ Sanchez
snapped. ‘If you don’t let go of my leg, I’ll arrest you and have you charged
with vagrancy!’
    The tramp ignored the threat. ‘I
just need enough for a cup of coffee. I’m freezing to death out here. You
wouldn’t want an old man to freeze to death, would you?’
    Sanchez sighed. He reached into
one of the front pockets on his pants to see if he had any change. He had
plenty, but also in that particular pocket he had a Zippo lighter and the page
he had ripped from The Book of Death. That page needed to be destroyed at some
point, so Sanchez had an idea.
    ‘I’ve got something that will
warm you up,’ he said.
    The tramp’s grey sullen eyes
suddenly lit up and he let go of Sanchez’s pants, looking up at him like an
excited puppy waiting for a treat. Sanchez grabbed his Zippo and pulled it out
from his pocket. He held it up in front of the tramp’s unwashed but excited
looking face and flipped it open. A sizeable flame lit up in the gloomy air.
The tramp still looked eager, hoping maybe that he was about to receive the
lighter, which was worth a few bucks. Alas, Sanchez pulled out the page he had
ripped from The Book of Death. He uncrumpled it as best he could, while still trying
to keep the book tucked tightly under his arm. The tramp frowned, no doubt
wondering what he was doing. Once the page was as flat as he could get it,
Sanchez held it up and dipped the bottom of it into the flame on his lighter.
The page lit up immediately and the flame began racing upwards.
    ‘Here,’ said Sanchez, holding
the burning paper out to the tramp. ‘This will keep you warm.’
    The tramp pulled his
outstretched hand away and balked at the offer.
    ‘It’s all I have,’ said Sanchez placing
the burning page down on the ground at the tramp’s feet. The tramp scowled but
then held his bony white hands out over