Bill Stern was the first to speak.
“I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell ain’t saying I saw what I just saw… It didn’t happen.”
A few heads nodded as others agreed with him.
Silence for a moment, occupied by the aromas of spikenard, myrrh and cordite.
“What about Al?” D’Angelo didn’t recognise the speaker.
“We say that fucker put a bullet in him, Jackson, easy as that.”
“They’ll know.”
“Soon fix that,” Bill Stern said, bringing his pistol up and aiming it at Al Culpepper’s head. He pulled the trigger. “There. Now, what say we just tell them the bastard got away and forget all about it, huh?”