I put lilies in every room and then I lit the house on fire. Trix would've wanted it that way.

As the floral blaze licked its way across the cedar walls, I sniffed and checked my watch. 3:48 am. Plenty of time.

I wandered around the neglected front yard, with one eye still on the fire, my mind's eye scanning for a plan. Once the fire had been properly fed, I would need to find Marcus. Tell him the deed had been done. Collect payment for my service as his "dirtied hand."

4:01 text sent.

4:07 text sent.

4:15 a call. Straight to voicemail.

Marcus was no doubt neck deep in a tankard of ale. Again.

After dousing the flames and double checking what remained, I headed into town. I poked my head into a few unsavory joints in search of that deadbeat.

I found him at The Whistling Nightcap. He was sober for a change. As practiced as my annoyance was by now, I fumbled for words when I saw him. Should I chastise? Should I nitpick? Were words even necessary at this point?

"Deed's done, Marky," I said, sliding opposite him in the booth.

His bloodshot eyes closed as he nodded.

"Did the fire take?"

"'Course it did."

"Good. The government ain't gettin' squat."

"To be fair, Marcus, your mother did forget a lot of back-to-back mortgage payments."

"You want a free breakfast or what?" He shoved a menu in my direction.

We ate our pancakes in silence, knowing Trix would be proud.