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“Well, yeah,” Oswald said, smiling. “Of course I’m high. Miriam said you were going to ruin everything. She said nobody trusted you, and you were going to talk to the police, and that would be the end of the Manhattans and weed. So I said, ‘Don’t worry, Miriam, I’ll take care of him.’ ” Oswald looked around. “I’m starving, man. You have any chips, or something?”
“I ate all the chips,” Briggs said.
“Then I guess I have to kill you,” Oswald said. “So what do you have? Weed? Demerol? M&M’s?”
“How about a puppy?” Briggs said. “You could give it to Miriam.”
“Where?”
“Here,” Briggs said, pointing to the Chihuahuas sitting at his feet. “Pick one. They’re up for adoption.”
“They look like rats with big ears.”
“Watch what you say about my dogs,” Briggs said. “They’re very sensitive.”
“Sorry, man. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Miriam probably doesn’t want a dog right now,” I said. “She sort of burned her house down.”
“Yeah, she’s like living in the garage,” Oswald said. “It’s got air-conditioning and everything, but the cops took all the weed and rockets. It’s like such a bummer.”
“Jeez, this has been a terrific conversatio
n,” Briggs said, “but I have stuff to do. And don’t worry about Miriam. I won’t bother Miriam.”
“Do you need a ride?” I asked Oswald.
“No. I got a car. I’m sort of supposed to be at work, but the kitchen’s loose, being that nobody else’ll work the fry station.”
I pointed Oswald in the direction of the elevator and closed and locked the door behind him.
“Boy,” Briggs said, “I didn’t see that one coming.”
“There’s no limit to your unpopularity.”
I called Morelli and told him to pick Oswald up in connection with the firebombings.
“I have to run,” Briggs said. “Bruce is probably already out there, and I don’t want to be late for my interview. This would be a great job. Can you lock up for me?”
“Sure. Good luck.”
I watched Briggs run down the hall and get into the elevator, and then I turned to the dogs.
“Okay,” I said, “try not to vibrate too much until Briggs gets back. You don’t want to go into a seizure or anything.”
I stepped into the hall, closed and locked the door, took five steps, and the dogs started yipping. Considering they were such small dogs, the yipping was pretty loud.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside. “You can’t make noise like that,” I said to them. “The neighbors won’t like it.”
They all settled down and calmly stared up at me with their bug eyes.
“All right, then,” I said.
I moved into the hall and closed the door, and instant yipping! I jumped back into the apartment, got the dog biscuits from the cupboard, and threw a bunch of them at the Chihuahuas.
I ran out of the apartment, got almost to the elevator, and the yipping turned into yelping.
Damn!
