“Sal.” “Mickey.” “I was just having tea,” Mickey says. Sal nods. The kettle whistles. Mickey pours the water into the chipped mug and dips the tea bag a few times. The bowl rattles as he spoons in some sugar and a little milk, and then the spoon knocks against the side of the mug as his shaking hand stirs the tea. He lifts the mug to his mouth and takes a sip. Then he smiles—it’s good and it’s hot—and nods to Sal. Scachi takes him out quick and clean, then steps over his body to go into the bedroom.
