crap in your living room got to do with anything?”
I looked up at the Rube Goldberg sculpture. “Actually, if someone is trying to send a warning, it’s a pretty smart way to do it. Think about it. If I get the cops out here, they’re going to take one look at this and treat the break-in like a prank. And if I told them I totaled my Jeep last night and this pile of stuff is a warning … they’d probably give me a ride back to the hospital so I could get my brains unscrambled.”
Joey said, “Somebody wants to play.”
“Looks that way.”
Joey’s an unusual guy. You never know what’s going to get to him. “Fine. Somebody wants to play, we’ll fuckin’ play.” He paused. “Why are you so quiet?”
“I didn’t know I was.”
Joey thought about that. “You’re gettin’ pissed off, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am.”
Seven
My midnight visitor had shoved a glass-topped table over by the window to make room for his sculpture. Now, morning sunlight bounced off the tabletop and angled up to shine dead center on the vase that formed a crystal column between the precariously balanced coffee table and my ancient basketball. The vase threw a shimmering, cut-glass rainbow across the ceiling. And I wanted very much to kick the whole damn thing over. Unfortunately, the whole damn thing was made out of some of my favorite stuff.
By the time I had wrestled the oak table back into the kitchen and shoved my living-room furniture into place, I desperately needed food. Either inhaling carbon monoxide or crashing into a concrete slab had unsettled my insides, and my empty stomach felt as though it were coated with dryer lint.
Twenty minutes later, I had already polished off two bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and was pouring acup of coffee when Joey knocked on my door. I found him standing on the front porch. He looked especially proud of himself.
The smiling giant glanced over my shoulder. “Where’s that pile of furniture and stuff you told me about?”
“I put everything back.”
Joey shook his head. “You got no sense of the absurd. I wanted to see it.”
“What the hell are you so happy about?”
“Just trying to cheer you up.” Since our phone conversation, Joey had shifted into his cheer-up-the-sick-guy mode.
I smiled. “Yeah, well, I don’t want to be cheered up.”
Joey raised his eyebrows, shook his head theatrically, and made
tsk-tsk-tsk
noises. Then he stepped away from the door and swept his hand out toward the driveway. The Vanna White move didn’t really suit him. “And look what I brought you.”
I looked. Squatting on my white gravel drive was … I didn’t know what it was. But it looked like a great-white-hunter vehicle, like the kind of thing John Wayne and Red Buttons would have used to chase a wildebeest across the Serengeti in
Hatari!
The sand-colored 4×4 had a spare tire bolted to the hood, a huge winch welded to something that looked like a cattle catcher in front of the grille, and a metal luggage rack running around all four sides of its roof.
“Okay.” I looked back at Joey’s smiling face. “What is it?”
“It’s a Land Rover, bubba. And not one of those pussy SUVs stockbrokers buy to haul their kids to soccer games. This is a serious off-road vehicle. A Series2-A Safari. Somebody told me Land Rover only sold ’em in Africa and South America.”
“And you got this one …?”
“It was a fee. I managed to locate something you don’t wanna know about for a client you
really
don’t wanna know about. The guy was in the kind of business where you’re rich one day and indicted the next. Give him credit, though. The government attached his liquid assets, so he paid me off with this.”
I looked from Joey to the Land Rover and back to Joey again. “You sure you don’t want to keep it? It’s got all those memories for you.”
A classic red GTO convertible pulled into my driveway. “Loutie’s here. Gotta go.” Joey tossed me the keys. “Check it
I looked up at the Rube Goldberg sculpture. “Actually, if someone is trying to send a warning, it’s a pretty smart way to do it. Think about it. If I get the cops out here, they’re going to take one look at this and treat the break-in like a prank. And if I told them I totaled my Jeep last night and this pile of stuff is a warning … they’d probably give me a ride back to the hospital so I could get my brains unscrambled.”
Joey said, “Somebody wants to play.”
“Looks that way.”
Joey’s an unusual guy. You never know what’s going to get to him. “Fine. Somebody wants to play, we’ll fuckin’ play.” He paused. “Why are you so quiet?”
“I didn’t know I was.”
Joey thought about that. “You’re gettin’ pissed off, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am.”
Seven
My midnight visitor had shoved a glass-topped table over by the window to make room for his sculpture. Now, morning sunlight bounced off the tabletop and angled up to shine dead center on the vase that formed a crystal column between the precariously balanced coffee table and my ancient basketball. The vase threw a shimmering, cut-glass rainbow across the ceiling. And I wanted very much to kick the whole damn thing over. Unfortunately, the whole damn thing was made out of some of my favorite stuff.
By the time I had wrestled the oak table back into the kitchen and shoved my living-room furniture into place, I desperately needed food. Either inhaling carbon monoxide or crashing into a concrete slab had unsettled my insides, and my empty stomach felt as though it were coated with dryer lint.
Twenty minutes later, I had already polished off two bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and was pouring acup of coffee when Joey knocked on my door. I found him standing on the front porch. He looked especially proud of himself.
The smiling giant glanced over my shoulder. “Where’s that pile of furniture and stuff you told me about?”
“I put everything back.”
Joey shook his head. “You got no sense of the absurd. I wanted to see it.”
“What the hell are you so happy about?”
“Just trying to cheer you up.” Since our phone conversation, Joey had shifted into his cheer-up-the-sick-guy mode.
I smiled. “Yeah, well, I don’t want to be cheered up.”
Joey raised his eyebrows, shook his head theatrically, and made
tsk-tsk-tsk
noises. Then he stepped away from the door and swept his hand out toward the driveway. The Vanna White move didn’t really suit him. “And look what I brought you.”
I looked. Squatting on my white gravel drive was … I didn’t know what it was. But it looked like a great-white-hunter vehicle, like the kind of thing John Wayne and Red Buttons would have used to chase a wildebeest across the Serengeti in
Hatari!
The sand-colored 4×4 had a spare tire bolted to the hood, a huge winch welded to something that looked like a cattle catcher in front of the grille, and a metal luggage rack running around all four sides of its roof.
“Okay.” I looked back at Joey’s smiling face. “What is it?”
“It’s a Land Rover, bubba. And not one of those pussy SUVs stockbrokers buy to haul their kids to soccer games. This is a serious off-road vehicle. A Series2-A Safari. Somebody told me Land Rover only sold ’em in Africa and South America.”
“And you got this one …?”
“It was a fee. I managed to locate something you don’t wanna know about for a client you
really
don’t wanna know about. The guy was in the kind of business where you’re rich one day and indicted the next. Give him credit, though. The government attached his liquid assets, so he paid me off with this.”
I looked from Joey to the Land Rover and back to Joey again. “You sure you don’t want to keep it? It’s got all those memories for you.”
A classic red GTO convertible pulled into my driveway. “Loutie’s here. Gotta go.” Joey tossed me the keys. “Check it
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