It was almost time to kill a man.

The world began to take on the lovely blue tinge it always does in winter, just as the sun begins to dip below the horizon and cast those long and twisted shadows across the land. As darkness slowly fell over the city, a powdery snow began to fall along with it, coating the urban landscape in a cleansing layer of white. The snowfall started gently enough but the flakes quickly grew larger and thicker, falling faster and multiplying.

Granger Black sat in his rental car and watched the snow, trying not to think of the cold that bit at his fingers even through his skintight gloves, trying not to think that he still had hours to wait. The dance of snowflakes against the red, green, and blue Christmas lights decorating houses had a hypnotic effect on him.

He had grown up in the deserts of California. The only time he’d seen snow was during the one winter when his uncle and grandmother had taken him to Big Bear. He remembered the blue corpselike hue of the snow at sunset, just as the world looked now. He shivered at the thought of that winter trip, of his uncle, and it had nothing to do with the snow.

As much as he disliked the snow, it would make the kill and the getaway even easier. If the storm were large enough and if it kept people inside over the holidays, no one would even find Paul Castillo’s body for at least a week. Not that he figured anyone would even be looking for Castillo, not on Christmas or any other day. He was a man without anyone. Granger was reasonably sure that no one gave a rat’s ass about whether Castillo was alive or dead. That was the one thing that Granger had in common with Castillo. That was the only thing.

Of course, if the storm were too big then he’d end up stuck in Chicago along with Castillo’s body. He had hoped to be back in California by tomorrow, Christmas day. Back home to a large beach house where there was no one waiting for him. At least it would be warmer.

Granger fiddled with the radio until he found a station that was playing Christmas songs. He leaned back in his seat, watched the snow, and hummed along as Brenda Lee’s Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree poured from the car’s stock speakers.

Granger didn’t necessarily like killing. He was simply good at it. He had the patience of a saint, albeit a vicious saint, when it came to waiting for his prey; he had the steady nerves that it took to do the job; and most important, he had an ability to dissociate himself from even the nastiest of wetwork. Murder paid the bills. Hell, it did more than pay the bills; it allowed him to have luxuries he never thought possible when he was a little boy growing up in that decrepit Barstow trailer park that baked beneath the California sun and living with a daft grandmother and an uncle he wished never existed.

Grandmother Black had always told him that if he wanted to go places in life he had to find something that he was good at, something that no one else wanted to do. She said that when you found a job that no one else wanted, you stick with it. People would pay good money to have it done. Of course, Grandmother Black had no idea that the dark haired, blue-eyed cherub she rocked to sleep every night would grow up to become a highly paid butcher.

Jingle Bell Rock from Bobby Helms followed Brenda Lee, and the Beach Boys followed that with Little Saint Nick. It was just about enough to put a little of the holiday spirit into him, to make him forget that he was going to gut someone in a few hours.

Some jobs were easier than others were. Killing Castillo would be one that Granger didn’t mind. Hell, he probably would have done it free of charge, a Christmas gift, if the client had asked. Castillo was a child molester and to Granger that was the worst kind of evil, something that he didn’t mind purging from the world. He knew that might sound strange coming from someone that killed for money, but there was a difference. Castillo had raped the client’s daughter, but his case never went to court because Castillo fled. His client wanted revenge, reasonably so, and Granger was more than happy to oblige.

As soon as the house lights went out on the quiet little street, he would head down the block, slip into the small two-story house that Castillo rented, and do the deed. He figured that most people on the street would turn in early to get ready for whatever festivities they had planned for the next day and all the children would be in bed early since they didn’t want to piss off Santa. No child in his or her right mind would want to run the risk of relegation to the naughty list so close to the big day. As soon as they were all asleep with visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads, he would start work.

He watched as an oversized SUV pulled into a driveway several houses down from Castillo’s place. A heavyset man stumbled out of his car dragging what looked like a suitcase behind him. He lurched toward his house on unsteady feet. The heavy man stopped and swayed, vomited onto his own large gut, and then lurched forward again. The man stumbled and limped into the house.

The street was once again serene and still.

Granger looked at his watch. Another hour, maybe less, and it would be time to get to work.

I hope you liked the excerpt, and I hope you order a copy of Meat City & Other Stories! It would make me quite happy.