Grand Guginol

“Not quite,” I said, bringing my right hand ‘round to show him the gun. “Why did you kill Phillips?”

That completely terrified flash I saw in his eyes told me I’d guessed right.

“What are you talking about?” he finally asked. “The lich killed Phillips for the music.”

“Bart was anything but modest,” I said. “He tol’ me flat out that he didna kill Phillips. Also mentioned a mistress, high clergyman’s wife.”

I shouldna stood so close. His palm smashed me nose bloody and the other hand caught the revolver when I dropped it. By the time I shook me head clear, Rhames had backed up enough to make sure I couldna pull the same trick.

“Phillips had touched my wife…the way I do,” he said, his calm voice making me think a’ when I showed him the daguerreotypes. “At the time, I blamed him, but I didn’t realize how much until the night I came by his hovel. I had just wanted to frighten him out of the idea of coming near my wife ever again. Considering how pathetic he and his tar house was, it wouldn’t have been difficult. What was difficult…to the point of tearing its way through my brain was how this…peon had managed to bed my wife. The next thing I know, I’ve slit his throat from ear to ear and I’m still holding the knife. I dropped it and run away. I thought that would put an end to my wife’s infidelity.”





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