The Devil's Graveyard by Anonymous Page B

can’t bring that back here!’ she moaned. ‘It ain’t hygienic!’
    The security officer at the back holding Clementine’s legs shrugged. ‘Gunther’s orders. Wants the body hidden away until the ambulance gets here.’
    ‘Well stash it in the kitchen, then. I don’t want it back here.’
    ‘That’s what we’re tryin’ to do. If you could just get the fuck outta the way, it’d help. Look now – there’s blood spillin’ all over the goddam floor.’
    Valerie stepped aside and watched as they struggled through the door at the back of the bar through which all her colleagues had disappeared a short while earlier.
    ‘An’ don’t expect us to clear the blood up after you,’ she yelled. ‘You can do that yourselves!’
    From his seat at the bar, the Bourbon Kid heard one of the security guys shout back ‘Aw, go fuck yourself!’ from the kitchen. Neither of them had dared to take a look at him on their way past him, but they were quite happy to mouth off at a young barmaid. In their defence, they wouldn’t want to piss him off. There had been enough about him on the news in recent times for people to have learned that it was wise to avoid him. He killed without motive whenever it suited him. And he didn’t care who he killed, man, woman or child. At least, that’s what the news reports were saying. Who would want to put that theory to the test? Sure there were bigger guys than him – tough guys, too – staying in the hotel, but the aura of evil and unpredictability that surrounded him ensured that no one, no matter how big, would deliberately set out to antagonize him.
    Valerie was desperately looking for an excuse to duck out into the kitchen area. She didn’t want to be anywhere near the Bourbon Kid, but unfortunately she was the nearest person to him. Until, that is, a lone figure walked into the bar. A man brave enough to sit with the Kid. He had been passing through the main hall adjacent to the bar and had caught sight of the people hurrying out. Valerie saw him stop on his way in and quiz a young couple about what had happened. She pretended to be busy wiping down the bar, but watched as the couple nodded towards the Kid, obviously explaining to the man what they had seen unfold when the Bourbon Kid had met Jonah Clementine. Then, apparently undaunted, this man sauntered into the place and headed over to the corner of the bar where the Kid was sitting.
    The Kid had just finished his third glass of bourbon. The man approaching him had chit-chat in mind, the kind that he hoped might interest the killer. Valerie recognized him as one of the singers from the Back From The Dead show. His name was Julius and he was a fairly innocuous-looking middle-aged black man with a smooth bald head like a pool ball. At full height he was no more than about five-feet eight-inches tall, but he was slenderly built and extremely light on his feet. The pomp in his walk and the suit of purple velvet made him look a little like a pimp, ready to offer the Kid one of his whores.
    In fact, he was a James Brown impersonator, in the hotel to win the singing contest. The single-breasted purple suit jacket he wore hung open to reveal a bright blue shirt underneath. His pants were flared below the knee, giving the suit a very seventies look. He took up a place at the bar on a stool just a yard to the left of the Bourbon Kid. Once he’d made himself comfortable he called out to Valerie.
    ‘Yo Valerie!’
    She had been doing her best to stay away from that end of the bar, hoping that it would encourage any new customers to walk down to the other end. But now Julius was sitting there right next to the man who was causing Valerie (along with everyone else) to steer well clear.
    ‘A beer for me, and whatever my friend here is drinkin’.’
    The Kid responded immediately in his usual grating, gravelly tone. ‘I ain’t your fuckin’ friend,’ he growled, not even looking over at his new companion.
    ‘You could be,’ Julius