A Cold One: End?

No one from the real, fictional or alternate universes is present in here. At least, not to my knowledge. If they are, Hello.

accusations

Sol Niel was a beautiful woman. A beautiful dead woman. She was lying in the middle of the bar. No one made any movement. All eyes stared at her.

Callo put his hand on her throat and declared her dead. He moved back to the bar and took a shot of Aztec whisky. Mooney moved near to her and crouched down. He could see the attraction she held for some men. He saw the puncture mark on her arm. She had been using. “So, Gregory. Why did you kill Miss Niel?”, asked Mooney even as he got up to look at the vultures. Rankin and van Borren calmly stared at the floor. Gregory bleated and then made a break for the door. Callo tackled him before he even got close.

“She has puncture marks on her right hand. I have seen her drink, she is right-handed. So, she didn’t shoot herself. Someone helped her. It would have been easy for you to do that.”
“Look, I didn’t kill her. She has been the best thing to happen to my business. Really. She bought everything- scud, acid, mex, ribs. Gold mine.” Callo let Gregory go, “He is a lowlife but also a pansy. Couldn’t do such a thing.”

“So, now we have two dead people. Two people with motive. Rankin, must have felt bad when Acetone beat the living hell outta you, everytime he came to collect for Ted Ted.” Before Rankin could say something, Mooney turned towards van Borren, “Slimy Ed. Acetone’s share is now yours. Nice packet to live on. Most importantly, your little fib will never come out in the open again. Though, why kill Niel? She saw you do it? Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Let us eat, first.” Mooney smiled. As if on cue, Mauray came out from the kitchen to announce that the food was done. “Come out here, Mauray. Come and have a drink with your boss.” Mooney said. Callo went along and poured two shots of Aztec. Mooney went into the kitchen.
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[it all began here Prologue]