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and dispose of the body permanently. They hoped whoever had taken Jack Clairmont had also found and concealed his finger. It wouldn’t do for it to turn up someplace when least expected.
    They went about their task in workmanlike fashion, keeping their hands cupped over the lenses of their flashlights to direct the diffused beams downward.
    Arthur happened to lift the lid of the Dumpster and shine his light into it. Still looking for the finger. And he found the rest of Jack Clairmont.
    â€œWhat do you think, Otto?” he asked.
    Otto was staring at the body, lying barely visible among trash bags, an old baby stroller, and some broken-down cardboard cartons someone had tossed in the Dumpster. It was possible—even likely—that Clairmont’s body would be unnoticed and go into the trash truck’s compactor to be dumped in a landfill. Then there would be no reason for Willard Ord to know what happened.
    Or so Otto convinced himself.
    â€œI think the brother,” Arthur said. “He musta known where Jack was going for the money-bracelet exchange, then came and found him dead and figured he had to get rid of him or he’d draw cops as well as flies.”
    â€œI have no wish to get in there with all that yuk,” Otto said.
    â€œNor do I,” Arthur said. “If we cover him up some more, Jack Clairmont might never be seen again. He’ll go unnoticed to a landfill.”
    â€œWe might as well wish for the best,” Otto said. “Safest thing would be to leave Jack right where he is. Pretend we never came across him.”
    â€œWillard would accept that only if we find the finger,” Arthur said. “That would prove we came here and searched.”
    Otto agreed.
    They searched on.
    â€œThis is hopeless,” Arthur said, after a while. “If the finger did drop to the ground, some animal could have taken it away.”
    â€œNo way to know that for sure,” Otto said.
    â€œWho knows anything for sure, Otto?”
    â€œI do. You should, too. If we slack off on this job and that finger turns up for the cops, Willard will see that we lose some of our fingers. Or worse.”
    â€œWorse?” Arthur didn’t have much of an imagination when it came to subjects other than torture and assassination, but what he did have was working hard.
    Both men knew that someone might have to get in the Dumpster and root around for the finger. They could flip a coin. But even that seemed too risky.
    â€œI believe this is impossible,” Arthur said, after a while. “I have a suggestion. Since I thought of it, my belief is that you should do it.”
    â€œWhat is it ?” Otto asked.
    â€œWe satisfy Willard’s wishes by returning with a finger. Jack’s remaining forefinger.”
    â€œYuk, yuk, yuk,” Otto said, but he knew he was going to do it. Willard wouldn’t know one finger from another. Arthur had come up with a solution to their problem.
    â€œEasier than rooting through trash and garbage for a finger that probably isn’t there,” Arthur said.
    So Otto used his knife and did it . Then he let himself down out of the Dumpster with Jack’s newly severed finger. Said, “Yuk!” again—and dropped the finger to the ground.
    At the same time, in the corner of his vision, Arthur saw a flitting dark shape, like a moving shadow.
    When he reached down for the severed finger, the dark form beat him to it, snatched it up, and whirled. The animal had its teeth and claws bared and looked very possessive. With grave misgivings, Arthur reached for the creature, was hesitant, and got only a brief feel of fur.
    The cat shot between his legs and broke toward the far end of the passageway.
    Otto was waiting, squatted down like a Sumo wrestler, and his huge, foreboding form caused Boomerang to halt for a moment.
    Otto’s right hand darted down, and his fingers closed on fur and loose flesh at the back of Boomerang’s neck.