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He
leaned
against
the
brick
,
fumbled
in
his
pockets
until
he
found
the
unfinished
stub
of
cigarette
he
had
abandoned
earlier
.
He
lit
it
carefully
,
trying
not
to
burn
his
fingers
or
his
beard
.
"
I
’
ll
tell
you
something
,
"
he
said
,
as
if
he
had
said
nothing
that
day
.
"
You
’
re
walking
on
gallows
ground
,
and
there
’
s
a
hempen
rope
around
your
neck
and
a
raven
-
bird
on
each
shoulder
,
waiting
for
your
eyes
,
and
the
gallows
tree
has
deep
roots
,
for
it
stretches
from
heaven
to
hell
,
and
our
world
is
only
the
branch
from
which
the
rope
is
swinging
.
"
He
stopped
.
"
I
’
ll
rest
here
a
spell
,
"
he
said
,
crouching
down
,
his
back
resting
against
the
black
brickwork
.
"
Good
luck
,
"
said
Shadow
.
"
Hell
,
I
’
m
fucked
,
"
said
Mad
Sweeney
.
"
Whatever
.
Thanks
.
"
Shadow
walked
back
toward
the
town
.
It
was
8
:
00
A
.
M
.
and
Cairo
was
waking
like
a
tired
beast
.
He
glanced
back
to
the
bridge
,
and
saw
Sweeney
’
s
pale
face
,
striped
with
tears
and
dirt
,
watching
him
go
.
It
was
the
last
time
Shadow
saw
Mad
Sweeney
alive
.
The
brief
winter
days
leading
up
to
Christmas
were
like
moments
of
light
between
the
winter
darknesses
,
and
they
fled
fast
in
the
house
of
the
dead
.
It
was
the
twenty
-
third
of
December
,
and
Jacquel
and
Ibis
’
s
played
host
to
a
wake
for
Lila
Goodchild
.
Bustling
women
filled
the
kitchen
with
tubs
and
with
saucepans
and
with
skillets
and
with
Tupperware
,
and
the
deceased
was
laid
out
in
her
casket
in
the
funeral
home
’
s
front
room
with
hothouse
flowers
around
her
.
There
was
a
table
on
the
other
side
of
the
room
laden
high
with
coleslaw
and
beans
and
cornmeal
hush
puppies
and
chicken
and
ribs
and
black
-
eyed
peas
,
and
by
mid
-
afternoon
the
house
was
filled
with
people
weeping
and
laughing
and
shaking
hands
with
the
minister
,
everything
being
quietly
organized
and
overseen
by
the
sober
-
suited
Messrs
.
Jacquel
and
Ibis
.
The
burial
would
be
on
the
following
morning
.
When
the
telephone
in
the
hall
rang
(
it
was
Bakelite
and
black
and
had
an
honest
-
to
-
goodness
rotary
dial
on
the
front
)
Mr
.
Ibis
answered
.
Then
he
took
Shadow
aside
.
"
That
was
the
police
,
"
he
said
.
"
Can
you
make
a
pickup
?
"
"
Sure
.
"
"
Be
discreet
.
Here
.
"
He
wrote
down
an
address
on
a
slip
of
paper
,
then
passed
it
to
Shadow
,
who
read
the
address
,
written
in
perfect
copperplate
handwriting
,
and
then
folded
it
up
and
put
it
in
his
pocket
.
