“I forgot about that. Let me see what I can do about it.”

“Okay. You’ve got a deal. How much are you going to pay me for information?”

“The going rate.”

“You’re not really going to pay me anything, are you?”

“No, but if I didn’t lie you wouldn’t have that nice new eye. It seems like a fair trade.”

“I’ve made worse.”

He takes a swig of his beer and discreetly closes the laptop.

“So what are you doing now? Mugging old ladies for pocket change yet?”

“They run too fast. I stick to Girl Scouts and nuns.”

“I’ve got pizza coming if you want to hang around. After this I was maybe going to watch Devil Girl from Mars.”

“I think I met her at Wild Bill’s place. You have any coffee?”

“Are you kidding?”

“I’ll have a beer.”

He takes one from the mini-fridge under the desk and tosses it to me.

He turns the sound back up on Across 110th Street and says, “Shit’s going to get weird again, isn’t it? You running around killing people.”

“It’s already started.”

He shakes his head and his half-full belly wobbles.

“You ever going to tell me about that armor, Tin Man?”

“Let me drink this, Old Yeller, and I’ll tell you a weirder story than you ever dreamed.”

“If it’s about you I doubt it.”

I’m back at the Beat Hotel when Candy calls around noon.

“Want to get some breakfast at our place?” she asks.

“We have a place?”

“Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles, stupid.”

“How’s Carlos? Can I see him?”

“Allegra worked him over pretty good last night. He’s sleeping it off. You can see him this evening.”

“Cool. Let’s forget breakfast. Want to go with me and hassle people?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

There’s no way I’m taking the Hellion bike out in broad daylight. I use the black blade to pop the lock and ignition on a Porsche Boxster Spyder and pick up Candy at the clinic. When I open up the car on the 101 North I can’t help but smile. There’s something about driving a pretty girl somewhere potentially dangerous in a stolen car that just makes you feel good.

We drive to the address in Chatsworth that Lula Hawks gave me. It might be a waste of time but it’s the only waste of time I have right now.

The address is a grease-caked car repair place that’s such an obvious front they might as well put up a “Not a Real Garage” sign out front.

“Before we go in, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you but it was never the right time.”

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