The sun lay on the road like a giant peach, ready to make an exit--the end of a perfect day.

"Just ahead on the left," I said. "Turn in where you see the Troll holding the Norwegian flag." A leftover ornament from a previous owner. The bizarre thing, they could have been cousins, No-name, and the Troll. Maybe he was Norwegian? Or German?

"Here?" he asked, breaking my frivolous train of thought.

"Yeah, you can't see the house from the road."

"Perfect," he said. He was becoming a regular Chatty-Cathy.

He drove down the steep hill to the cabin and parked next to my Mercedes-Benz. A 1987 SL convertible. Red. A gift from an admirer when I still had admirers.

Wet leaves covered the windshield. I picked a few off and patted her hood. I wondered if anyone would ever pat my hood again.

Mr. No-name stood by the passenger door, waiting. Nick continued to sleep. "How you want to do this?"

"Bring him in and tie him up. I got a few questions. Need a few answers."

He opened the door and draped Nick over his massive shoulder like a side of beef.

"Hey...hey...hey. Let me down." Nick was now fully awake.

The big man carried him inside. He sat him in a straight-back kitchen chair and stood behind him.

Nick looked around the room. "Where the fuck am I?"

"You gonna tie him up?" I asked.

No-Name grabbed Nick by his hair and lifted his head until the tendons in his neck looked like they might snap.

"Ough! What the fuck, Man. Let me down!"

"Ask," No-Name said to me.

"Tell me about it," I said to Nick.

Fear registered on Nick's face. "What the shit, man!" he squeaked.

No-Name snapped Nick's head back and leaned directly into his face.

"The lady asked you a fucking question."

"Tell you about what....?" he asked as his eyes bulged and the wrinkles in his forehead disappeared.

"The night at the club. The night you got your face rearranged. What happened that night to Biggie? I need to know."

"Jesus, that was three fucking year's ago!" he screamed.

I liked hearing him scream, and a little begging would be even better. I imagined he'd spent a lot of time on his hands and knees, begging like a dog.

"Tell me!" I said, bringing myself back around to the task at hand.

No-Name swivel him around in the chair by his head. "Tell her."

"Okay....okay. Jesus. I went outside with a couple of guys I owed some money to. I was negotiating a settlement when Angel, ugh....Biggie comes out looking for me. One of the dudes grabbed her. I told them... she's my girl."

He stopped talking and looked up at No-Name, "Hey, I'm talking....okay....lemme go."

I nodded yes, and No-Name turned loose of his head.

"Thank you," Nick said with an unwarranted element of bravado directed at the man standing behind him.

"Continue," I said.

"They said pay up, or they'd take her for collateral or some stupid shit. She started screaming bloody hell. One of them held her down with his hand over her mouth while the other one worked me over with a tire iron. That's it, man. Hey, I'm the one that nearly died! I don't know what happened after that."

I believed him.

"What are their names?"

"Who?"

"The dudes you stiffed. The one's beat you."

"You saw them. The dudes outside the Hotel!"

I've heard a lot of shit in my life. Hell, I've said a lot of shit in my life. But, this, this takes the cake. "You still do business with the two animals that did that to your face!"

"Nothing personal. I burned em,' and they got carried away. We kissed and made up."

I backed up and sat down on the couch. They kissed and made up. Like nothing happened. A misunderstanding among comrades.

"We done?" No-Name asked.

"Yes," I whispered.

In one swift move, he snapped Nick's neck. Pop! And, it was over. He let his body slide to the floor.

"I think I'll drive the Mercedes back," I said. "You good to lock up? Key's under the mat."

"Yep," he said, folding Nick up like a cardboard box. "I got this."

"You gotta name?" I asked.

"Nope," he said.

I grabbed the keys to the Mercedes and opened the front door. I took one last look at Ike The Spike. I should have let Q kill him. He'll be mad ...if I ever tell him.

Mr. No-Name stopped folding and spoke. "Any fish in that river? "

"Fishing gear is in the shed. Help yourself, "I said. "Can I ask one more favor?"

"Name it."

I did. Then, I walked out, got into my car, and turned the key in the ignition. She sputtered and started. Then she began to purr. Not like a kitten, more like a pissed-off lioness. Or like a three-pack a day smoking lioness. We had a lot in common, this old car and me.

I turned her loose on I 90. She hugged the road. I embraced the steering wheel.

Norwegian, definitely Norwegian.