Zed
“Jack, when you met her she was surfing the roof of a Honda hatchback at one A.M., with the lights off, down the worst road on Mount Greylock. She hangs out with scumbags and her name is a consonant. In two of her four photos the woman is airborne and she looks different in all of them. She has a tattoo on her head. That man literally gets away with murder several times a year and she’s talking to him like he’s her dippy uncle. I’m not sure she knows anything about anything.” Now Aberfoyle was wobbling a finger at Zed’s bemused face, laying down some kind of law. “If you don’t say something to make him happy we are going to die.”
