“Here we are, folks: the legendary bar where Snooky Adams was gunned down by his partner, Lila Corbell.” The young guide positioned himself to imitate the gangster, dressed in Snooky’s signature red turtle-neck and gray, pinstriped jacket, his hair slicked back in Snooky’s oily-smooth style. The resemblance was disturbing.
He looked into the mirror behind the bar, intending to make eye contact with his group via that reflection, but he suddenly shouted, “Lila!”
His audience jerked heads to look behind them at the same second the shots rang out. But seeing no one, they turned back to their guide. He was on the floor, three bullet holes in his chest.
Lila’s reflection lingered in the mirror, smoking gun in hand.
(I took some license with the mirror. The one in my imagination is bigger than the one in the picture.)
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