my leg from his grasp, and took a step toward Cody. Cody touched his lips and raised the wrench again.
The guy on the floor managed to snag my pant leg and twist it, and I stumbled.
Cody gasped in surprise as the stumble served up my head like a tethered balloon.
With the second hit, everything in the room turned a squishy gray, and my shoulder spun into the wall.
The guy on the floor got up on his knees and rammed his head into the small of my back, and Cody beamed as he raised the wrench over his head.
I don’t remember the third hit.
What exactly should we do here, Leonard?”
“Just what I’ve been saying, Mr. Falk. Call the police.”
“Ah, Leonard, it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
I opened my eyes and saw double. Two Cody Falks—one solid, the other transparent and ghostly—paced the kitchen. He drummed his fingers on the countertops and kept licking at the cut on his swollen upper lip.
I was on the floor, back against a wall, feet against the base of the butcher-block counter. My arms were tied at the wrist behind me. I felt around back there with my fingers. Twine of some sort. Not necessarily the best thing to tie someone up with, but it still did the trick.
Cody and Leonard weren’t looking at me. Cody paced back and forth along the counter by the sink. Leonard sat up on a bar stool, a towel filled with ice pressed to the back of his head. A few red pimples lined the side of his neck, and his large jaw jutted out of his small face like Lincoln’s on Rushmore. A steroid case, I guessed, sculpting his muscles and fighting ’roid rage until his joints turned necrotic. All to impress chicks he’d be too impotent to fuck when game time finally rolled around.
“Guy broke into your home, Mr. Falk. Assaulted both of us.”
“Mmm,” Cody touched his upper lip gingerly. He glanced down at me, his two heads moving quickly, and my stomach eddied.
I met his eyes as he gave me a broad smile and matching wave of his hand. “Welcome back, Mr. Kenzie.”
I smacked my lips together against the taste of cotton balls dipped in battery acid. He knew my name, which meant he probably had my wallet. Not good.
Cody squatted down by me, and the transparent Cody jelled a bit more with the solid Cody, so now it was like looking at one and a half Codys instead of two.
“How you feeling?”
I gave him a grimace.
“Not so good, huh? You going to puke?”
I bit down on some bile in my chest. “Trying not to.”
He tilted his head toward the butcher block. “Leonard puked. He also has a nasty bruise on his lower spine from hitting the floor. He’s kinda pissed off, Patrick.”
Leonard scowled at me.
“What’s Leonard’s capacity here?”
“He’s bodyguard.” Cody slapped my cheek, not too hard, but not too gently, either. “After you and your friend came to visit that time, I thought I might need some protection.”
“And the WWF was having a yard sale?” I asked.
Leonard leaned over the counter and the muscles in his forearm flexed. “Keep talking, bitch. Just—”
Cody waved him off. “So where is your friend, Pat? The big dumb one who likes to hit people with tennis rackets.”
I tried to tilt my head in the direction of the front of the house, but it hurt too much and the nausea kicked in double-time.
“Out on the street, Cody.”
Cody shook his head. “No, no. We took a walk while you slept this off. There’s no one out there.”
“You sure?”
A wisp of doubt flickered in his eyes, then vanished. “He’d have come crashing through here by now, I think.”
“When he does, Cody, what are you going to do?”
Cody pulled a .38 from his waistband, waved it in my face. “Shoot him, of course.”
“Sure,” I said, “make him mad.”
Cody chuckled, then shoved the gun barrel up against my left nostril. “Ever since you humiliated me, Pat, I’ve dreamed of something like this. Gives me a hard-on, to tell you the truth. What do you think of that?”
“I
The guy on the floor managed to snag my pant leg and twist it, and I stumbled.
Cody gasped in surprise as the stumble served up my head like a tethered balloon.
With the second hit, everything in the room turned a squishy gray, and my shoulder spun into the wall.
The guy on the floor got up on his knees and rammed his head into the small of my back, and Cody beamed as he raised the wrench over his head.
I don’t remember the third hit.
What exactly should we do here, Leonard?”
“Just what I’ve been saying, Mr. Falk. Call the police.”
“Ah, Leonard, it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
I opened my eyes and saw double. Two Cody Falks—one solid, the other transparent and ghostly—paced the kitchen. He drummed his fingers on the countertops and kept licking at the cut on his swollen upper lip.
I was on the floor, back against a wall, feet against the base of the butcher-block counter. My arms were tied at the wrist behind me. I felt around back there with my fingers. Twine of some sort. Not necessarily the best thing to tie someone up with, but it still did the trick.
Cody and Leonard weren’t looking at me. Cody paced back and forth along the counter by the sink. Leonard sat up on a bar stool, a towel filled with ice pressed to the back of his head. A few red pimples lined the side of his neck, and his large jaw jutted out of his small face like Lincoln’s on Rushmore. A steroid case, I guessed, sculpting his muscles and fighting ’roid rage until his joints turned necrotic. All to impress chicks he’d be too impotent to fuck when game time finally rolled around.
“Guy broke into your home, Mr. Falk. Assaulted both of us.”
“Mmm,” Cody touched his upper lip gingerly. He glanced down at me, his two heads moving quickly, and my stomach eddied.
I met his eyes as he gave me a broad smile and matching wave of his hand. “Welcome back, Mr. Kenzie.”
I smacked my lips together against the taste of cotton balls dipped in battery acid. He knew my name, which meant he probably had my wallet. Not good.
Cody squatted down by me, and the transparent Cody jelled a bit more with the solid Cody, so now it was like looking at one and a half Codys instead of two.
“How you feeling?”
I gave him a grimace.
“Not so good, huh? You going to puke?”
I bit down on some bile in my chest. “Trying not to.”
He tilted his head toward the butcher block. “Leonard puked. He also has a nasty bruise on his lower spine from hitting the floor. He’s kinda pissed off, Patrick.”
Leonard scowled at me.
“What’s Leonard’s capacity here?”
“He’s bodyguard.” Cody slapped my cheek, not too hard, but not too gently, either. “After you and your friend came to visit that time, I thought I might need some protection.”
“And the WWF was having a yard sale?” I asked.
Leonard leaned over the counter and the muscles in his forearm flexed. “Keep talking, bitch. Just—”
Cody waved him off. “So where is your friend, Pat? The big dumb one who likes to hit people with tennis rackets.”
I tried to tilt my head in the direction of the front of the house, but it hurt too much and the nausea kicked in double-time.
“Out on the street, Cody.”
Cody shook his head. “No, no. We took a walk while you slept this off. There’s no one out there.”
“You sure?”
A wisp of doubt flickered in his eyes, then vanished. “He’d have come crashing through here by now, I think.”
“When he does, Cody, what are you going to do?”
Cody pulled a .38 from his waistband, waved it in my face. “Shoot him, of course.”
“Sure,” I said, “make him mad.”
Cody chuckled, then shoved the gun barrel up against my left nostril. “Ever since you humiliated me, Pat, I’ve dreamed of something like this. Gives me a hard-on, to tell you the truth. What do you think of that?”
“I
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