Sheila started laughing. "The old fart was in his boxers and the blonde was like on his lap. The old guy jumps up and the blonde falls over and Todd said he was, like, too freaked to move." Wombat shifted in Sheila's lap, unable to get comfortable with the amount of wiggling Sheila was doing to tell the story.

"What happened?"

"What happened?" Sheila echoed. "The old guy, King, goes ballistic. He freaking screams at Todd for, like, five minutes before it dawns on him that Todd could dime him out to his girlfriend."

"Then what?"

"Todd just like stood there, grinning, until the old guy gives him, get this, a one hundred dollar bill, and tells him to forget about it, or else." Sheila shook her head. "Todd was, like, about to wet his pants then on account of he sees a gun out on the table. Todd is like a vegan. He's, like, totally nonviolent." She sighed. "I'm thinking he won't remember my number because he didn't have a pen."

I thought about Todd, the mental image of him burned into my memory, and hoped he wouldn't remember her number. On the other hand, Todd certainly was full of information about Pauline Conrad and her friends.

"So what else?" I asked.

"Mother," Sheila said, "like, isn't that enough!"

"Yeah, baby," I laughed. "That is actually a gracious plenty."

"Thank you," she said.

We drove on to the house, each lost in her thoughts. I had to figure out where to put Sheila so she'd feel a part of things and yet be safe. I had only two hours left before I was due at the Golden Stallion and something had to be done. I thought about Carlucci for a second, but just as quickly discarded him. No way was I subjecting us to him again. And then I thought about Marshall Weathers.

What Carlucci said wasn't true. Weathers and I had an understanding. He didn't want a relationship. Well, neither did I. I'd thought about it. My life was fine without a man in it. I had a great job, a great daughter, and lots of wonderful friends. If I wanted a relationship, I could have one any time at all. I just didn't want one. And of course I was feeling a little needy right now. Who wouldn't, with someone trying to kill you and get money from you that you don't have and with your ex in jail for murder?

"Humph!" I said, forgetting Sheila was there.

"So who are you thinking about, Mama?"

I shook my head. "Just life in general, babe."

We turned onto our street and were headed for the drive back into the alley when I spotted the patrol car.

"Oh great!" Sheila said. "Now he's having us staked out! If he's so worried why doesn't he let Daddy out?"

We swung around to the back, pulled up in the backyard, and climbed the stairs to the door.

Wombat, new to the situation, stepped over the threshold and sniffed. He trotted past us and walked right up to the spot where my intruder had died at Tony Carlucci's hands. Wombat sniffed, then yipped, and then without warning, urinated all over the floor.

"Oh gross!" Sheila cried.

I walked past her into the kitchen, picked up a roll of paper towels and a bottle of disinfectant, then handed them to my wrinkle-nosed daughter.

"Welcome to parenthood, baby," I said. "It's tough, but ultimately rewarding."

Sheila sighed. "Whatever."

Chapter Twenty-four

While Sheila cleaned up after Wombat, I listened to my messages. There were the usual assortment of hang-ups and solicitations, then Terry Griswald from the Mobile Home Kingdom came on.

"Ms. Reid," he said, his voice thin with anxiety. "The fellas heard about Vernell being arrested. I'm sorry, but done all of 'em walked out. I'm still here, though. Are you gonna be coming down anytime soon? I reckon we oughta talk. That VanScoy fella stopped by again. Said to tell you and Vernell it's seventy-five now. Well, all right, I guess. Call me."

He sounded desperate. I figured he was, too. Christmas would be coming up in six weeks. I knew he had a wife and new baby to think about. What was I going to do?

The next message was from Vernell himself. "Hey, baby," he said. "Listen, you've gotta take care of a couple of things for me." Yeah, right, like returning three million dollars to the Redneck Mafia. "Call Brenda McCoy at Cornerstone Realty and tell her to just hold on. I'll be ready to sign the contract in a couple of days. The same with the house, too. Tell her I want a full-price offer."

Then Vernell cleared his throat and hesitated. "Baby, listen, I don't want you to think nothing about this, but if she says anything about the Satellite Kingdom being up for sale, don't worry. I'm just selling off the land and the office. It's no big thing. I talked to the lawyer and all after you left. It don't look like I'll be leaving here for a little while, so I'm gonna need you to kinda step in and help me out." There was a pause and then Vernell spoke again, so softly I could almost not make out the two familiar words. "I'm sorry."

Sheila was standing in the doorway, listening, her eyes wide and red-rimmed.

"Why is Daddy in so much trouble?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I don't know, baby."

Wombat skittered into the room, sliding across the slick wooden floor, unable to stop himself before he crashed into the bed and fell backward. Sheila smiled and picked him up, snuggling him in her arms and burying her face in his soft fur.

The roar of a motorcycle running up into the backyard distracted the three of us. Tony Carlucci was back. How he'd managed to get back out to Bess King's farm, retrieve his bike, and return to Greensboro in such a short amount of time was beyond me, but I didn't care.

Sheila was past me, over to the door, outside, and down the steps. Tony smiled when he saw her, removed his helmet and pointed to little Wombat. As I watched from the doorway, she held the dog up to him and he slowly shook his head. He reached over and shut off the bike.

"What in the hell is that?" he said.

"Like, a dog," Sheila answered. "I think he looks like you." They laughed like old friends, until he looked up and saw me in the doorway.

"I suppose you're planning on working tonight," he said.

"Yep."

He looked at Sheila, watching her run after Wombat, her back to the two of us.

"How about I take her with me?"

"Not on that thing."

Sheila turned around, listening. "We can take the truck," she said. "That way Wombat won't be here alone. You know I can't leave him, don't you?" She turned to Tony, her face open and vulnerable. But he had gone dark on her. He stared past her, looking first at Wombat and then off down the alley. He was seeing Popeye. He was remembering and he was hurting.

It frightened Sheila. She didn't know and couldn't understand the rapid change that had come over Tony.

"He won't make a mess," she said, mistaking his hesitation.

Tony didn't answer her. Instead he rubbed his hands across his face and shook his head.

"Yeah, all right. We'll take the truck and drop your mama off at the club." The smile came back and the look he gave her reassured her. "But I'm gonna drag your ass out at two a.m. to go get her. This isn't some slumber party where you hang around painting your toenails and looking pretty. We've got some things to do. I can't be babysitting no kid, you got me?"

Sheila puffed up and gave him her best womanly look. "I'm not a kid. I can take care of myself, like, totally."

"Yeah, right," he said. "Whatever."

He'd done it. He'd worked her and she'd fallen for it.

"I've gotta take a shower and get changed," I said. "Why don't you two go pick up a pizza or something?"

Tony shook his head. "I'm not leaving you alone."

"You didn't see the patrol car in front of the house? I'll be fine. Go pick up a pizza and bring it back. You can drive the truck."