“How much did you pay her?” I asked, pointing my flashlight ahead of us, looking for fallen branches.

“Two hundred,” Dave said. “I took it back when I figured she wasn’t going to wake up.”

We were walking in the woods, slender trees all around us, dead leaves crackling under our feet like cellophane. I carried the front end of the bundle, Dave had the back. She was wrapped in Hefty bags and duct tape.

“What happened?” I asked.

“You know that place in my living room where the rug bunches up and everybody trips over it?”

“Yeah.”

“She tripped over it. Hit her head on the coffee table.”

“You should fix that.”

“I’m going to.”

I’m “that friend” for Dave. The theoretical ‘who-do-you-call-at-three-a.m.-when-you-have-a-dead-hooker-on-your-hands?’ buddy. It was only midnight, but the rest of the theory was the same.

“It’s right here,” I said.

We’d reached an opening in the trees. The well was covered by an old piece of plywood, which was in turn covered by fallen leaves and rocks.

We put the body on the ground. Her name had been Erica, I’d paid for her services a couple of times myself.

I started moving the stones.

“How do you know about this place?” Dave asked.

“Just found it. Sometimes I come out here to hike.”

“It’s the middle of nowhere.”

“That’s a good place to get away from people.”

Dave and I have known each other since we both went to Currie Valley High. We didn’t really start hanging out together until after graduation. A lot of his crowd went off to college and I’d never had much of a crowd. Since we both stayed in town, we sort of gravitated toward each other. The friendship intensified over the next ten years. He had other people he did stuff with now and then, but I don’t like too many people and if I felt like hanging out with somebody he was my only choice.

I don’t know the reason behind it, but if Dave was out with other friends and we happened to run into each other, it was almost like he didn’t know me. All I got was a “What’s up,” and a head nod. I didn’t mind, since I don’t usually feel like being social and chatty.

We lifted the cover off of the well and put it aside. I looked down into the void: cold, black, comforting emptiness. We went over to our garbage bag bundle. We lifted her and moved toward the opening. Moist, dark odors came up out of the hole.

“Maybe it’s a wishing well,” Dave said.

“I doubt it.”

“I’m going to make a wish, anyway. Can’t hurt, right?”

“Sure.”

We swung the dead woman over the hole and dropped her down into the darkness. I was able to count to three before we heard the splash. Then we put the plywood back, put the rocks back on the cover and started toward the car.

“What did you wish for?” I asked.

“No more clumsy whores,” Dave said.

#

The next night, at around the same time, Dave called me again. I was watching a re-run of Friends and not enjoying it.

“There’s a guy here,” he said.

“Who?”

“Erica’s pimp.”

“What? We don’t have pimps in Currie Valley.”

“That’s what I thought,” Dave said. “But there’s a guy here and he wants to know where Erica is.”

“I don’t want to be a part of this,” I said.

A new voice came on the line. “Is this Corey Waits?”

“How do you know my name?”

“Your buddy told me.”

The studio audience on the TV laughed.

“Now get over here so we can sort this out,” the voice said.

It looked like I was a part of it whether I wanted to be or not.

I drove over to Dave’s latest apartment. Every year when his lease was up, Dave decided he wanted a better place to live. He usually picked an apartment almost identical to the one he already lived in, usually on the other side of town, usually on the third or fourth floor of a building with no elevator. And I was the person that got to help him move.

When I walked into Dave’s place, I stumbled over the carpet wrinkle that had done Erica in. “I thought you were going to fix that,” I said.

“I haven’t gotten to it.”

Sitting next to Dave on the couch was Barney Armstrong. Barney had been a couple of years ahead of us in high school. He was a big guy with short black hair.

“I thought you worked at that feed store on Route 36?” I said to him.

“I do,” Barney said, “but the pay is shit. I run a string of girls on the side.”

Dave’s place was a mess, but no more than usual. The apartment had an unpleasant sour odor from when Dave had spilled a bowl of Frosted Flakes a couple of months ago and hadn’t bothered to clean the milk out of the rug.

“Where’s Erica?” Barney asked.

“Did you tell him?” I asked Dave.

“I was waiting for you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know where she is!” Dave said. “You drove, it was your spot!”

“Did you tell him what happened?”

“She tripped over the rug,” Barney said. “Now where is she?”

“In the woods.”

Barney stood up from the couch. “Take me to her.”

“But she’s…”

“Take me to her!”

I decided to get brave. “Why should we?” I asked. Being tough giving me a tingle between my shoulder blades. “You don’t have a gun or anything.”

Barney looked at me with cold eyes. “Want to find out if I have a gun?”

My tingle went away.

“Let’s just take him out there,” Dave said.

#

Once again I drove out to the woods, to my private away-from-everyone spot. Barney sat next to me, Dave sat in the back seat. Farmland droned by. The ride was quiet until we were about halfway there.

“Did you fuck her?” Barney asked, turning his head to look in the back.

“What?” Dave said.

“Did you fuck Erica?”

Dave paused for a moment. “Yeah.”

“Then where’s my money?”

Dave took out his wallet and gave Barney all of his cash.

“This is a little short,” Barney said.

“That’s all I’ve got on me,” Dave said. Then he added, “Remember, you don’t have to give Erica her cut.”

Barney thought about that for a minute, nodded and turned back to the front.

A short while later we were back in the woods.

I parked the car and grabbed the flashlight. Then I led the way back to the well, leaves still all around, cover still covering. Things were moving in the underbrush nearby.

“She’s down there,” Dave said, pointing at the well.

Barney leaned down to look. “Take the cover off,” he said.

Dave and I did as we were told. This time the well’s moist odors were accompanied by something almost sweet. When the plywood was off, Barney went up to the edge of the hole and looked down. “How deep is this?” he asked.

I went up behind Barney and gave him a shove. He flailed his arms, but it didn’t help. Dave and I both rushed to the edge. Again I was able to count to three before I heard a splash.

We were quiet for a moment then Dave said, “You should’ve said ‘Find out.’”

“What?”

“When he said, ‘How deep is this,’ you should’ve said ‘Find out’ or maybe ‘You tell me’ before you pushed him in.”

“I’ll think of that next time,” I said.

Dave looked down into the pit. “I’m going to make another wish.”

“What are you wishing for this time?”

“No more pimps.”

After he made his wish, a concerned look came over Dave’s face. “Shit,” he said. “What if somebody else comes looking for me?” Then he looked at me. “Do you think I should move?”

Without really thinking about it, my right arm shot out and pushed Dave down into the nothingness. He didn’t flail his arms, he just gave me a startled, yet oddly understanding look. I didn’t hear a splash. I figured he landed on Barney.

On my way back to the car, I made a wish myself.

No more irritating friends.