Page 8 of Race With The Devil

“Oh, it is, believe you me. Once in awhile they still get into a fight, and I mean a physical altercation, in the middle of nowhere. They’ll be at the Farmer’s Market and start beating each other over the head with a bunch of zucchini.”

“A handful of beets works better,” I said. I worked in the prison galley for a couple months and someone had brained me with a fistful of raw beets. I shrugged. “Well. Wherever you are, be there totally.”

I meant whatever worked for Wolf was fine for his spirit, but Unity really perked up when she heard me.

She had a Zen quote, too. "If you miss the present moment, you miss your appointment with life.”

What? This diminutive human canvas was familiar with Zen Buddhism? Maybe she read that quote on a poster.

I was trying to stuff down my admiration for her when Wolf Glaser busted onto the smoky patio carrying Beetle awkwardly in front of him, his fluffy legs hanging down straight like some kind of modern sporran. Did this guy not know how to carry a puppy? I remembered I had more training to do—human training, that is. I had to instruct Wolf in how to best handle Beetle and be satisfied that he knew the ropes.

“Tanner, I just had an awesome idea. Or should I say ‘pawsome’?” Grinning goofily, Wolf made Beetle wave at me. “Slushy’s office is just a few doors down, behind the Hip Quiver. Why don’t we stop in and give our thanks for this amazing dog?”

“Good idea,” said Unity, stubbing out her cig. “I’ll go upstairs, freshen up, and meet you at Slushy’s. Then we can find Lavinia’s friends, see who was at the sideshow, stuff like that.”

I hadn’t known that Slushy’s office was so close. So Unity took Diesel—I guess she had a tiny deck off the back of her little apartment above the biker bar—and Wolf and I proceeded three storefronts down Bargain Boulevard.

“Put Beetle down,” I told him. “He can walk on a leash.”

“Oh, he can? You’ve got to tell me all the stuff he can do.”

“Well, he was a bit late coming to the party on the basics seeing as how he couldn’t walk, he swam. But he knows sit, down, stay, heel, leave it, and OK.”

“Can he do a high five? I want this lil’ guy with me 24/7. I might even get a sidecar like Bellamy has.”

We had to go through the Hip Quiver archery range to get to Slushy’s office. A lawyer with only a few high-profile clients didn’t need a high profile office, that was understandable. But we had to pass by a shooting line of geardos with so much equipment swaying from their belts by carabiners, they were all hanging cracks. We walked alongside a glass case displaying archery accessories while Wolf waved to Kneecap, a Bare Boner I’d seen at the hangar. He must run the place. At last we came to the glass door of Aaron McGill, Criminal and Patent Attorney.

It was heartening to see old Slushy again. I’d grown quite fond of the guy, as he seemed to work tirelessly for my release from Tucker. Sure, we finally had cut and dried DNA evidence to exonerate me. But a lesser lawyer could’ve ruined that, too. You really had to pound away relentlessly at The Powers That Be to get a brutal rape conviction overturned. After what Unity had said about the sexual assault, I was glad she was freshening up in her apartment. Even a false charge left a bad taste in many peoples’ mouths.

Slushy didn’t see us at first. His combed-over hair seemed thinner than the last time I’d seen him, but he still wore the seafoam green button-down shirt paired with a burnt umber tie. He’d told me once that you had to maintain a professional image, even if nobody was going to see you that day. I must’ve listened to him, because I always wore the T-shirt of Paws-n-Gauze to let people know who I was off the bat. I didn’t dress it up with a lot of do-rags with a lot of logos.

He was occupied, though. It sounded like he was on the line with tech support.

“God damnit, Steve! I click on the drop-down arrow and you know how you usually slide it to select the color you want? Well, it won’t let me! I know it’s working fine on your side. Of course it is. You’re the ones who invented this Mongolian clusterfuck of a website. I want Desert Sand, not Foliage Green!”

Slushy noticed the puppy first and smiled. He petted the soft little head as the dog nosed around his keyboard for crumbs. His other hand still tried to manipulate the mouse. Then he saw me, hands buried in the pockets of my army green pants, looking a little greyer but no worse for wear. Slushy’s jaw dropped, and he snapped, “No deal, no dice, Steve! Shot at and missed. Shit on and hit.” And he slammed the phone down.

“Well if it isn’t old Tanner ‘Leatherstocking’ Principato! If my fucking eyes don’t deceive me! And Wolf, this must be the dog Tanner brought from the ol’ Chess Capital of the World.”

Wolf frowned in consternation, so I said, “Yep, sure is. I want you to know I finally kept my word to you. Took a few years, but I did.”

We shook hands. “Well, makes sense ‘cause you were busy protecting the life and limbs of your average American twatwaffle from the dangers of the Reds, or whoever we’re currently at war with.”

“Diaper heads,” said Wolf distractedly. He’d taken Slushy’s seat and was messing with the computer. I supposed if it was okay with Slushy, who was I to interrupt?

Slushy frowned. “Diaper heads? Do we say that around here? No, in the delicate world of a color-blind lawyer who wants to see justice meted out equally to all, I’d say Tanner here was protecting us from our enemy. We can call them human land torpedoes.”

Wolf, eyes glued to Slushy’s screen, made a lip fart. “Human land torpedoes? How’s that better than calling them Johnny Jihads?”

“Look,” I said, settling down with Slushy into the two upholstered chairs that faced his desk, “I’m going to stay a few more days to track down this missing girl, Lavinia Dock, bride of a guy named Tutti Morgan. You know him?”

“Oh, yeah, I was afraid of this. All day long I’ve been getting calls to look into prosecuting him for those sideshow deaths last night.”

Wolf piped up. “That why you were ordering camouflage seat covers for your SUV?”

Slushy yelled over his shoulder. “I’m going camping at Red Rocks, you assclown!” Composing himself, he faced me. “But there’s a huge conflict of interest seeing as how Tutti works for the Bare Bones, my number one client.”

“Maybe not for long. Don’t repeat my words. But I accidentally busted into a meeting at their hangar today where they were discussing firing Tutti.”