Author: Kolibri Halliwell

Title: Between The Classics
The tension lingered in the air for Tom like a knife that could fall down on anyone any minute now. Small sweat drops were gathering on Tom's hot forehead but he didn't seem to be noticing them. Johnny Cash was singing Folsom prison blues in the background through the old jukebox in the corner, giving the whole situation a ghostlike and ironical, dark humour feeling. He glanced at the bar and at the watch he had carefully placed on a shelf to protect it from blood stains.

"I hear the train comin´, it's rolling round the bend and I ain´t seen the sunshine since I don't know when..."

It showed that the time was 2 am. They still had an hour before Pete would show up.

He wiped the sweat away with his sleeve, feeling that his shirt was sticking to his body, wet because of the nervous tension that was only rising. "Hurry up," he panted and glanced at his watch again.

"I am doing the best I can," I replied calmly and continued the examination of the man that had been alive just a few minutes ago. My heart was beating in a slow and peaceful rhythm as I ran my hands over him, checked him, and turned over to see if he had anything in his back pockets. I examined him carefully and methodically without changing my pace because of Tom's whining. Usually this kind of behaviour pissed me off. "What's the point of bloody killing someone if you don't enjoy doing it?" I used to think. But this was his first kill, so it was understandable.

The bartender wasn't carrying anything with him besides his car keys and a wallet that contained the pictures of his wife and his five year old son Mark.

"Useless," I said after I had found the wallet. I made a gesture, as if I had wanted to throw it away; but then I changed my mind and stuffed it into the pocket of my jacket. You never knew when things like these could get useful. After that, I picked up the car keys and dangled them in my hand; ding, ding, ding. Ding, ding, ding, they went cheerily. A pair of small, white dice with thin chains were attached to the key chain. I twirled them between my fingers, without noticing that Tom was looking at me with a scared face expression. The look on my face was scaring him even more than the body on the floor.

I finally looked up and grinned at him. "Catch," I said shortly and threw the keys to him. He cached them clumsily and nervously and then looked back at me without understanding me. I rolled my eyes.

"Go and look for the car, you idiot. It's probably parked outside."

"Oh yeah," Tom said and gave me a short nod, turning around and walking out of the bar, carefully stepping over the pools of blood.

Kling, the door bell said.

I sighed and shook my head. I looked back at my victim and wavered slightly to shift my body weight off my tired feet. I hummed along with Johnny Cash as I picked up the already ready rag and started to clean up the blood that was spreading all around the body, running in small floods over the floor to the tables and the chairs.

"I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die..."

I could literally feel the body warmth quickly disappearing from the bartender as his skin turned more and more pale. His face was completely covered in blood stains and his mouth and eyes were open wide in surprise.

To kill them was always easy. It was to take care of the body that was the tricky part.

I continued to sweep up the blood, moving carefully over the floor and humming. Soon the rag was completely drenched of it and I had to get up and get it cleaned in the bathroom. I knew exactly where everything was because of Tom's vivid description of the place. That's something that boy truly had; a vivid imagination. I wouldn't have been surprised if he would've mistaken me for some kind of supernatural being right now. A vampire perhaps.

I grinned maliciously and returned to the "scene of the crime" to wipe away the rest of the "evidence". Is it just me or do all these police-terms sound extremely funny?

I threw back my head and laughed, for seemingly no reason. Elvis Presley started to sing "Hound Dog" and I sang cheerily along, doing a little dance right next to the dead man.

"You ain't nothing but a hound dog, cryin' all the time..."

Now when the blood and the rest of the evidence was gone, it was time to take care of the most important and revealing part of the kill; the body. I bound the man's bloody head with rags so that the blood wouldn't smear down the now clear floor when we would drag him out of here. I looked over the room, carefully looking for things that I might have missed to take care of. The dark bar was still filled with smoke from the cigarettes we had been smoking just a while ago. Two friendly strangers on a night trip, stopping by to rest and drink a bottle of beer.

Nothing attracted my gaze except for Tom's digital watch.

2.16 am.

I picked it up and put it in my other pocket. I nodded my head along with the music and made a short Elvis impression, running my fingers through my black hair. I grinned at the body, looking into his glassy blue eyes.

"Why don't you look lonesome tonight," I drawled and laughed at my own joke.

Kling, the door bell said.

"Well finally," I said and, without looking at the door, bent down on my haunches to start dragging the body out of the bar. "I thought you had gotten lost in the parking lot."

No answer.

"Well come on, help me," I said and looked in the exit's direction without looking up. I looked at the pair of black combat boots and a vague thought shot through my head.

That is not Tom.

My gaze slid up to the khaki colored pants and shirt and finally the head, which was wearing a hat. The sunglasses hid the man's eyes. Another vague thought.

Sunglasses in the middle of the night?

And then another, much stronger thought hit me like a rock.

This was a cop.

"Bummer," I drawled as I got up and faced the cop. I slid my hand into my pocket for my cigarettes. "You must be Pete." The cop shrugged with a grin and offered me his lighter like an old friend. "I guess I can't get away with this one now, eh?"

"You luck couldn't last forever," he said reasonably and continued to grin. I nodded carelessly and lightened my cigarette as The Beatles started to sing about Lucy in the sky with diamonds. "Yeah, especially when cops start showing up in bad timing," I agreed and patted him on the shoulder. "You scared the livin' daylights out of me, you bastard."

Pete started to laugh. "To see Elvis Presley dancing right next to a dead bartender wasn't a sweet good night story either."

I grinned and bummed him a cigarette. "I've always believed that you should do everything in life with a touch of humour. Now come on, help me with this 200 pound "killer" that is probably filled with more booze than he should be. Is Tom in the car?"

Pete nodded. "Uh-huh. And shivering like a rabbit."

"Did all go well at the police station?" I asked as we exhaled the last hits of our cigarettes and put them out.

"Yes. They will receive an anonymous call about an accident at the bar any minute now. The right men will show up. You have nothing to worry about."

"Who said anything about worrying?" I raised my eyebrows and grinned. "I thought you knew me better than that."

The truth was that I almost always was worried. But I hid it well and after years of training the confidence had raised. And I also loved to fool around.

2. 28 am.

So we laughed and dragged the body out of the bar and to the car. He was damn heavy. Tom who was on the verge of having a heart attack returned one last time to check that everything was in order, that the right fingerprints were in the right places and no bloodstains were to be spotted. I nodded my head in satisfaction and walked out with the bags of money in my hands, humming the last tones of "Start Me Up" which was now playing on the old jukebox. Damn I was in a great mood! And the night was still young... Who would be next?