This is where Calvin died. I couldn’t bear to tow it away, it looked too much like a memorial. I put a fence round it just in case someone thought they might steal a truck, even though now it’d never run. The rust has grown to join the blood stains; hardly any of that Robin’s Egg Blue left.
He didn’t need to die. That bastard Sheriff told Toothless Mike that Calvin had ratted on him just so Mike would kill him, and he did. Right here in my front yard, spread over the hood, blew his head right off. Shit.