ride in the hotel limo to Max Overdrive. The driver doesn’t talk to us. Doesn’t even look at the rearview mirror. He must have heard about Lucifer’s last driver. The one who ended up with his lips sewn together.
The side door at Max Overdrive looks like an angry drunk beat it to death with a sledgehammer. The store area on the first floor is as trashed as an empty room can be. Every rack and piece of shelving has been tossed around and smashed. That answers one question. It would have taken at least a half hour for one person to do this much damage. So, there was more than one. How many are left? I take out the Sig and start upstairs.
The door is half open. I push it the rest of the way with the toe of my boot.
Kasabian sits on the floor sipping a beer, his back to the minifridge. The bedroom is trashed but in better shape than the store. Nothing looks particularly broken. Just turned over and dumped on the floor. When Kasabian moves, one of his leg’s gears scrape and crunch together. His left leg is bent to the side just below the knee. Hellhounds aren’t dainty devices. It took a lot of strength to do that kind of damage.
“Goddamn,” I say.
“Careful in case one of them is still around. They were very picky about blasphemy,” says Kasabian.
“Hey, Kas,” says Candy. “Does your leg hurt?”
“Only when I breathe or think.”
Candy and I sit on the bed. Kasabian holds out a beer. We shake our heads.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with you and your beef with King Cairo, would it?”
“I don’t know. Did they say what they wanted?” I ask.
“There wasn’t a lot of chitchat. Mostly it was crashing and throwing and then a couple of them that bounced up and down on my leg asking where it was.”
“Did they say what ‘it’ was?”
“I thought they meant the money. I told them where it was, and when they found it, they left it and took off. Two hundred grand in cash and they just walked away.”
A pack of Maledictions lies next to the overturned desk. I get the smokes and light a couple, passing one to him.
“They’re good Christian boys. Thou shall not steal and all that Ten Commandments hoodoo. The new Golden Vigil. Smashing the place and fucking up your leg is for the greater good but taking a nickel is a mortal sin.”
Kasabian sets down his beer and tries to stand. The leg collapses the moment he puts weight on it. He lies down on his back.
“Look at me. I should have stayed on my skateboard.”
“It’s okay. I met a guy and he owes me a favor. He’ll finish your body.”
Kasabian props himself up on his elbows.
“And then what? I wait around for the next Curious George to come through the door and break my other leg? Everything was quiet and boring and fine until you came back, and now it’s all shit again.”
“That’s pretty harsh and it’s not even true,” says Candy.
“So says the pretty girl with two working legs. If it wasn’t for you, he would have been here to kick those guys’ asses.”
I say, “Don’t go blaming her. You’re the one who wanted me gone, Old Yeller.”
