““It began with Snake Hips,” The bartender said, polishing a glass to occupy his hands. “Snake Hips,” Grave Digger said incredulously. “He’s the female impersonator at the Down Beat Club up the street.” “The danseur,” the bartender corrected with a straight face. “What did he have to do with it?” Coffin Ed asked. “Nothing. He was just dancing. He danced outside and we were watching him, and that’s how we saw it happen.” “Without a coat or hat? By himself? He left here and went outside to dance i...n this weather without a hat or coat—by himself?” Disbelief was written all over Grave Digger’s face. “He was just bitching off,” the bartender explained. He held the glass up to the light, blew on it and began polishing again. “He had got himself a new lover, and he was just low-rating the man who used to be his lover before. You know how these people are; when they get mad at you, they get out in the street and start scandalizing you.” “Who is the man?”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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