She smiled even wider until she took a look at the mess.
'Damned fishheads.' Kasmira rose from behind the counter to start recovering the salvageable items. 'It happens every year, right after Hallowmas,' she quietly muttered.
'It looks like World War III,' Ann said, stooping to pick up a red candle molded in the shape of a woman. She gazed at it with a sad frown.
'Bridget's all right,' she said to Kasmira. 'She's just exhausted. Do you have insurance?'
A weary voice from the back said, 'Of course we do-through Bautista. Oh, shit.' Bridget stared at the devastation.
'It's not too bad, Grandmother.' Kasmira used a dustpan to scoop up multihued piles of incense. 'Just a couple of windows and the main counter. They didn't take anything, and the expensive stuff's OK.'
'Damned Christian of `em.' The old woman paused to give me a twice-over. 'You're a bright bit of luck that's stumbled into our lives. Beat it before I lose my womanly grace.'
I glanced at Ann for a clue to my next action. She busied herself helping Kasmira.
'Go on,' Bridget fumed. 'You may not realize it, but you've got work to do!'
'Such as?' I asked.
'First, you've got to decipher what I relayed to you.' She leaned against her cane, striving to look inscrutable.
'Why don't you save us all a good deal of time and tell me?'
'Because,' she said with a sly smile, 'I don't know what it means. I'm simply a vessel. I convey a message, using the best images I can. It's garbled by its transference through various spheres and planes of reality.'
'I never cared for parlor games, lady.'
'Mr. Ammo.' Her voice was suddenly placating-almost friendly. 'This game you've chosen to play involves far more than one mere parlor. This one is for the entire world and all it reflects.'
I picked up a couple of bruised candles from the floor, dusted them off, and placed them by the cash register.
'The whole ball of wax. Right, lady?' I nodded to Ann and turned to leave. Blondie stayed put.
'Hang on, Dell. I've got a question.' She turned to Bridget. 'Is there a new moon coming up soon?'
'It's tonight. Saturday morning, actually.'
'That clinches it.' Her demeanor changed to intense determination. She turned and beat me out the door. Her hair shone in the sunlight like ropes of gold chain. 'Thanks for everything!' she called back to Bridget. 'I owe you a million!'
She glanced back at me. 'Let's go, Dell.'
'Where?'
'Your office, for starters.'
'It's a long walk downtown. Or would you prefer to go back for the Porsche?'
She blanched.
'Besides,' I said, 'the car's hot. It probably has a want out on it by now, and I know lots of old associates who'd love to see me put away for a minor felony. It'd be a great joke.'
I shook my head. A Santa Ana wind had turned the day pleasantly warm outside. We strolled east on the boulevard. The Bible-thumpers had made themselves scarce.
We walked down to the freeway bus stop and waited for the connection to Old Downtown to show up. Unlike the true believers in the store, passersby didn't pay us much notice. Quite a few of them still seemed to be wandering around in shock.
