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I have to admit that I’m tempted to take the hellhound upstairs in the elevator. Just stroll through the lobby with it on my shoulder. Mr. Macheath back from another night out on the town. But I check the impulse.
The hound is so heavy I have to dance it around to get it off the bike and onto my shoulders. No showing off this time. I find the nearest shadow and go through, coming out in the penthouse. Candy is sitting on the sofa with Kasabian, drinking beer and watching Destroy All Monsters. She looks up at me.
“Look. The ramblin’ man made it back. And he brought dinner.”
I drop the hellhound on the floor. It sounds like I shot-put a piano.
“I’m glad to see you too. I told you I’d make it back in time.”
“Is that what you said? I thought it was ‘I’m sorry I took off again like that and I’ll worship you as a goddess when I get back.’ ”
“That doesn’t sound like me. Maybe one of your other boyfriends.”
“Yeah, I have their bodies stacked on the roof. It keeps the cat burglars away.”
Kasabian comes around to check out the hound. It takes him a minute to crouch on his gimpy knee, but he makes it and runs his hands over the hound like it’s Ali Baba’s treasure. He examines his fingertips and squints.
“This is the best you could do? It looks like you pulled this thing out of a garbage dump.”
“You’re welcome to go back and get one of your own.”
“This falls deeply into the category of ‘better than nothing.’ ”
“So do you, so it’ll be a perfect fit.”
He runs his hand along the length of the hound’s spine.
“At least the legs are straight.”
“Call Manimal Mike anytime you want. He ought to be able to scavenge enough parts off the thing to fix you up, Hopalong.”
Kasabian looks up at me.
“What did we say about nicknames?”
“Sorry. You can’t really expect me to be Miss Manners overnight.”
He shakes his head, staring at the hound.
“Damn. You actually did it. And here me and your missus were making bets on whether you’d come back at all and how many more limbs you were going to lose.”
“Who won?”
Candy doesn’t look up from the movie.
“No one’s seen you undressed yet, so the bet still stands.”
“I’m calling Manimal Mike right now,” says Kasabian. He clamors to his feet and squeaks and grinds away to his room.
“Let me know when he’s coming over. I want to talk to him.”
I sit down next to Candy, take her beer off the table, have a sip, and pass it to her.
“How’s Brigitte doing?”
“You had someone you loved murdered, so you know.”
“Yeah.”
