pped in and told this McIver that he
wanted to make a will； and could McIver help him out？ Well； McIver asked； how
soon do you want the document？ Yesterday； said Hallorann； and threw his head
back and laughed。 Have you got anything plicated in mind？ was McIver's next
question。 Hallorann did not。 He had his Cadillac； his bank account — some nine
thousand dollars — a piddling checking account； and a closet of clothes。 He
wanted it all to go to his sister。 And if your sister predeceases you？ McIver
asked。 Never mind； Hallorann said。 If that happens； I'll make a new will。 The
document had been pleted and signed in less than three hours — fast work for a
shyster — and now resided in Hallorann's breast pocket； folded into a stiff blue
envelope with the word WILL on the outside in Old English letters。
He could not have said why he had chosen this warm sunny day when he felt so
well to do something he had been putting off for years； but the impulse had e
on him and he hadn't said no。 He was used to following his hunches。
He was pretty well out of town now。 He cranked the limo up to an illegal sixty
and let it ride there in the left…hand lane； sucking up most of the Petersburg…
bound traffic。 He knew from experience that the limo would still ride as solid
as iron at ninety； and even at a hundred and twenty it didn't seem to lighten up
much。 But his screamin days were long gone。 The thought of putting the limo up
to a hundred and twenty on a straight stretch only scared him。 He was getting
old。
（Jesus； those oranges smell strong。 Wonder if they gone over？）
Bugs splattered against the window。 He dialed the radio to a Miami soul