door and then locked it again behind him.
The only person who could have known about it was someone connected with the killer—whose own body had not been in the bottom hallway when I’d entered the building.
Leaving Mal’s apartment unlocked, I ran downstairs a flight and knocked on the door from behind which, for once, no music was coming. After a pause it opened. The rat-faced man stood and glared at me.
“What you want?” He looked nervous as hell.
“Have you seen anyone go upstairs in the last twenty-four hours?”
“No. Been too busy fucking your mother,” he said, and pushed the door back at my face. I stuck my foot in the jamb. It probably hurt, but I was too wired to notice. Rat-man’s head appeared again. “Co ’way before trouble starts, man,” he advised, face pinched.
“It’s already started,” I said, kicking the door straight back at him and crunching it into his nose. He clattered back into the hallway and fell somewhat awkwardly on his head. I strode a couple of paces into the apartment, which smelt bad, looking for more fun. Rat-face’s friend appeared in another doorway, recognized me, darted back the way he’d come. I followed, and found myself in a room with a gun pointing at my head.
Sitting at a table in the corner was a large black man, head shaven, the whites of his eyes luminous in the gloom. A line of blue LCD’s was tattooed into his scalp from front to back, blinking softly in the twilight. His features were broad and brutal, and his skin was greasy. He had a gun in his right hand. He stared impassively at me. Narcotics were spread out in front of him, arranged into piles of various sizes. I’d interrupted a buy—no wonder people were kind of edgy. I stood still. It seemed the thing to do.
After a moment the big man lowered the gun. He looked at me, moving his head slightly as if trying to catch a glimpse of me in a different light. Something about him struck me as strange, though I couldn’t put my finger on what it might be.
Rat-face reappeared raggedly from the hallway and started squawking, hungry for blood. “Say adios to your brain, motherfuck,” he snarled, and my head was suddenly knocked forward as he jammed the barrel of his gun into my neck.
“Ain’t no call for that,” the big man said mildly. “Leastways not until we find out what he wants.”
“I want to know if anyone saw someone go upstairssince last night,” I said, trying to avoid looking at the man’s flashing head. I thought I could hear it blinking on and off like a turn indicator.
“Well?” the big man said, raising his eyebrows at the other two men, Rat-face and his friend. In variously bad tempers but with apparent sincerity, the men denied having seen anyone. The big man looked back at me. “This be anything to do with the dead dude in the hallway?”
“Yes,” I said. “And who the fuck are you?”
“No one in particular,” the big man said, “Just passing through, doing a little deal with my new friends here. I ain’t seen anyone either, and I didn’t recognize the bag of bones lying downstairs. You want him , you can find the body in the bins behind the back of Mandy’s Diner out on the edge.”
“You moved it there?”
“Surely did it was lowering the tone.”
“Okay,” I said, starting to back out of the room.
“Now I’m going to blow his face off,” said Rat-face, getting excitable again. The big man tutted.
“No, you ain’t: Can’t you get that into your head?”
Rat-face stuffed his gun into the front of his pants and squared up to me instead. “Okay, well, Marty and me’ll just beat the shit out of him, then. Okay?” He glanced at the black man for confirmation, and I wondered what the power structure was here.
Friend Marty looked less than enthusiastic at the prospect, and quietly relieved when the big man shook his head. “You welcome to try,” he said, “but the dude has the Bright Eyes and in my experience they tend to be some crazy
The only person who could have known about it was someone connected with the killer—whose own body had not been in the bottom hallway when I’d entered the building.
Leaving Mal’s apartment unlocked, I ran downstairs a flight and knocked on the door from behind which, for once, no music was coming. After a pause it opened. The rat-faced man stood and glared at me.
“What you want?” He looked nervous as hell.
“Have you seen anyone go upstairs in the last twenty-four hours?”
“No. Been too busy fucking your mother,” he said, and pushed the door back at my face. I stuck my foot in the jamb. It probably hurt, but I was too wired to notice. Rat-man’s head appeared again. “Co ’way before trouble starts, man,” he advised, face pinched.
“It’s already started,” I said, kicking the door straight back at him and crunching it into his nose. He clattered back into the hallway and fell somewhat awkwardly on his head. I strode a couple of paces into the apartment, which smelt bad, looking for more fun. Rat-face’s friend appeared in another doorway, recognized me, darted back the way he’d come. I followed, and found myself in a room with a gun pointing at my head.
Sitting at a table in the corner was a large black man, head shaven, the whites of his eyes luminous in the gloom. A line of blue LCD’s was tattooed into his scalp from front to back, blinking softly in the twilight. His features were broad and brutal, and his skin was greasy. He had a gun in his right hand. He stared impassively at me. Narcotics were spread out in front of him, arranged into piles of various sizes. I’d interrupted a buy—no wonder people were kind of edgy. I stood still. It seemed the thing to do.
After a moment the big man lowered the gun. He looked at me, moving his head slightly as if trying to catch a glimpse of me in a different light. Something about him struck me as strange, though I couldn’t put my finger on what it might be.
Rat-face reappeared raggedly from the hallway and started squawking, hungry for blood. “Say adios to your brain, motherfuck,” he snarled, and my head was suddenly knocked forward as he jammed the barrel of his gun into my neck.
“Ain’t no call for that,” the big man said mildly. “Leastways not until we find out what he wants.”
“I want to know if anyone saw someone go upstairssince last night,” I said, trying to avoid looking at the man’s flashing head. I thought I could hear it blinking on and off like a turn indicator.
“Well?” the big man said, raising his eyebrows at the other two men, Rat-face and his friend. In variously bad tempers but with apparent sincerity, the men denied having seen anyone. The big man looked back at me. “This be anything to do with the dead dude in the hallway?”
“Yes,” I said. “And who the fuck are you?”
“No one in particular,” the big man said, “Just passing through, doing a little deal with my new friends here. I ain’t seen anyone either, and I didn’t recognize the bag of bones lying downstairs. You want him , you can find the body in the bins behind the back of Mandy’s Diner out on the edge.”
“You moved it there?”
“Surely did it was lowering the tone.”
“Okay,” I said, starting to back out of the room.
“Now I’m going to blow his face off,” said Rat-face, getting excitable again. The big man tutted.
“No, you ain’t: Can’t you get that into your head?”
Rat-face stuffed his gun into the front of his pants and squared up to me instead. “Okay, well, Marty and me’ll just beat the shit out of him, then. Okay?” He glanced at the black man for confirmation, and I wondered what the power structure was here.
Friend Marty looked less than enthusiastic at the prospect, and quietly relieved when the big man shook his head. “You welcome to try,” he said, “but the dude has the Bright Eyes and in my experience they tend to be some crazy
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