Page 28 of Race With The Devil

“That’s probably wise,” I said, and we headed back to her Sporty. “But I’m telling you, Unity. I don’t want you confronting this jizzmonger. Wolf and I will take care of it. You’ve had your share of confrontation in your life. Your life should be smooth from now on.”

“I’ve got this whole adulting thing down, Tanner. I’m tougher than you give me credit for.”

“We don’t need you demonstrating it. We’ll take your word for it.”

By the time I stuck the loaded piece into the waistband of my jeans and slapped on a ball cap of Unity’s—yes, I caved to disguise—shouts already came from Corey’s apartment.

“Hey!”

We sprinted back in time to witness a surprisingly agile Wolf Glaser tackle the diablito-head. The guy did a faceplant into the gutter, taking the brunt of the fall on his chin. He persisted in trying to escape, though rivulets of garnet blood flowed from his soul patch. Wolf pinned him to the concrete in a half-nelson, but the blond guy was accustomed to more brutal fighting tactics than bitch-slapping and swirlies. Corey soon got the upper hand and flipped Wolf. Wolf still gripped Corey’s elbows in the small of his back, but it was a good opening for me to step up, straddling Corey’s knees while pointing the barrel of my Glock at his forehead.

“Listen, anus brain,” I growled. “You know we’re the ones tracking down Lavinia. We know you’re the one who sent Tutti that bogus email from a bogus Sideshow Barbara. You’re his right-hand man. Why would you be lying to Lavinia’s husband about where she is? Did she ever wind up taking you to the university that day?”

Corey just snarled, his upper lip as though snagged on one of his gold caps. He panted through the shiny grill, teeth gritted, his tiny pupils accusing me of being the bane of his existence. “What fucking emails are you freaks talking about? I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“Oh yeah?” bawled Unity. “What about the time on Mormon Mountain a few days ago in front of Lytton—“

“Did you go to the University of Arizona?” I repeated. I didn’t want Unity getting involved. I rattled my piece just in case Corey hadn’t seen it. But I had to keep it close to my thigh, as Route 66 was a bustling throughway. I wished I’d thought of removing Unity’s plates from her bike. But I hadn’t been expecting to be giving a beatdown to a small-time criminal.

If Corey was currently on el diablito, his heart would beat slowly, and that would explain the faintly bluish cast to his already pale skin. “Who said anything about going to the U of A?”

I said, “Lavinia did, in a text to Tutti. She told him that on the night she went missing she’d be taking you to the U of A to make a delivery.”

“Huh. Well, I don’t deliver to the U of A. But you guys might as well stop wasting your time looking for her. She did fall off a fucking cliff. And if you keep looking, Tutti’s going to be raging.”

“Why would he be raging against someone trying to find his bride?” demanded Unity.

“Ow!” Wolf had kneed Corey violently in the small of the back. “Fuck it! I give, asshole! All right?”

“Just making sure you know who’s the boss,” Wolf said, cornily.

“Why would he be raging?” Unity repeated. “He’s the one who told us about the Sideshow Barbara email.”

“You figure it out,” snarled Corey.

I already had.

By this time, someone along the route had stopped their minivan and were shouting at us, “Hey, what’s going on? Do I have to call the cops?”

Good Samaritan. Having determined that Corey had no piece of his own, I backed off a few steps. Holding out my arm, I backed off Unity, too. She was snorting and hot and raring to go, but the only reason I’d brought her was because she was Lavinia’s friend.

And my partner.

“Let him go, Wolf,” I commanded.

Wolf did so, not without a few more knees to his lower back. The Good Sam finally drove on.

“Fuck!” roared the fentanyl fan. He stood shakily, nervously pinching his T-shirt as though it were a tux jacket he straightened. “What the fuck, dudes? I’m just here to tell you to back off the investigation because Lavinia is at the bottom of a cliff.”

“Which cliff?” I inquired. “A cliff at the U of A?”

“How’m I supposed to know? I was just told she slipped and fell somewhere. Now, if you fucking excuse me!” And he sprinted off toward a beaten Dodge Dart—not a vintage, cherry one, but a definite beater that had belonged to someone’s grandma. It took him several tries to start before it ruptured into giant pipe-splitting action, lending credence to the notion that he needed Lavinia as a driver.

“Come on,” I said, herding my little crew in the opposite direction. “Whoever pushed her off a cliff seems privy to the knowledge that she’s dead. Someone doesn’t just slip and fall off a cliff, and you leave them down there without checking to see if they’re alive.”

“Well, you never know, with Tutti Morgan and his people,” said Lavinia.

“True. Doesn’t seem there was much love lost between Tutti and Lavinia, though you told us different, him being all lovey-dovey at the wedding.”

“Well, who wouldn’t be, if only for show?” Lavinia pointed out. “I thought of something. If Lavinia did take Corey to the U of A, they’ve got traffic cams all over. If only we could gain access to the tapes.”

“Good idea,” said Wolf. “Only there aren’t any cliffs in Phoenix.”

We’d reached our rides, and I handed Unity her dome of obedience. “I’m sure it’s occurred to you they’re leading us astray with this whole cliff thing. Corey could’ve bashed her over the head with a DVR and shoved her in a drainage ditch. This could have nothing at all to do with cliffs.”

“I don’t know,” said Wolf, straddling his saddle. “Corey doesn’t strike me as a criminal mastermind. He’s so dim he couldn’t drive nails into a snowbank. I wouldn’t trust him to off anyone. He’s just a dumb-ass helper, a driver, a nobody. This is a job for Santiago Slayer.”

“Who?” I asked.

Unity looked at me knowingly as I slung my leg over her bitch seat. “You’ll see. He’s kind of a ‘fixer.’”

“Last I heard,” said Wolf, “he was taking a year off from the job to study to be a telenovela actor. But maybe he’ll do us a solid.”

A fixer turned telenovela actor? I shook my head in amazement as we peeled out of the parking lot. The Bare Bones were full of surprises. One was that Wolf Glaser was actually a pretty competent associate. He demonstrated a deductive logic far beyond his goofy persona. Most of all, I was surprised the Bare Bones were related to this elegant, daring, artistic woman I now wrapped my arms around.

It felt natural, like I’d been doing it for years.