Licorice and Jaw Breaker looked around the living room of Melanie Grace’s house in silence. They’d slipped in when she’d gone off shopping; half an hour later, Miss Lollipop had called and told them of her kidnapping from the parking lot of the grocery store.



Neither of them felt very good at the moment.



“Aw man—“ Jaw Breaker muttered, picking up a delicate little half-finished piece of knitting from a basket at the end of the sofa. The small sweater hung from the needle, a cheerful buttery yellow wool shape. From across the room, Licorice held up a bottle of pre-natal vitamins and nodded.



“Yeah. You know I never liked Ecklie much—he’s always been on the weasely side—but I do believe this woman’s been good for our boy.”



“Yep. Especially now. You think he did the job for money?” Jaw Breaker mused. “You know, little more income now that she was pregnant?”



Licorice nodded. “I could see that. Not like he has a lot of options anyway. And you know how Eiger works—I bet that bastard’s got something on Ecklie that keeps him in line.”



Jaw Breaker made a moue of distaste and gently set the knitting down again. “That does seem to be Baby Brucie’s M. O. Where do you think Ecklie’s hanging out—and do you think he knows his lady’s been grabbed?”



Licorice thought about that as he crossed the room to join Jaw Breaker. He looked around the small, tidy living room carefully.



“Hard to say, but we could start with his big three hangouts and work it from there. I have the feeling the cops are going to come calling pretty damned soon. And no, I don’t think he knows about Ms Grace being nabbed. If he’d thought ahead, he would have told her to leave town before he bombed the lab.”



Jaw Breaker nodded and checked his watch. “Okay, let’s hit the road and check out the Moon Glow first.”



They carefully slipped out the side door of the house and around the neat garbage cans. Jaw Breaker looked down the hill towards the lake, grinning at the sight of the dock and the boats in their slips. “Hey, Miss C’s boat’s down that way, huh?”



“Yeah, the big yacht there at the end. Nice piece of floating real estate, huh?” Licorice replied, slipping on his sunglasses. Jaw Breaker nodded.



“Sweet. I wonder if she fishes.”



Licorice gave a snort. “Nick, that’s her home, dude—It’s not a day rental you can charter, you know.”



Nick blinked a little, startled. “No kidding—she lives there, like, full-time?”



Licorice nodded. “Yep . . . her own ship on the high seas. I heard it cost plenty to have it moved from San Francisco here, but I guess it must be worth it. Come on, we better get moving.”



They headed back to the parking lot of the marina; Jaw Breaker shot one last look over his shoulder at the boats, whistling softly. “Man, it really is a beauty.”



“What would you know? You come from bass boat country, Texas Boy,” Licorice teased as they climbed into the jeep. Jaw Breaker laughed and pulled on his own sunglasses.



“I know enough to keep my hard earned money invested on dry land, that’s for sure—to the Moon Glow . . . “



They drove off.

She rounded the corner, steeling herself for the sight of him; even so, it hit her sensibilities hard when she finally spotted his familiar shape propped up against the side of the building. The sun had begun to set, and the cool mauve chill of oncoming night colored things with a faint tint. The harsher lights of various casinos, bars, nightclubs and shops sparkled, making the grimy sidewalk seem dark and heavy.



Sara stopped and looked at Mr. Peppermint. He hadn’t broken his gaze from the building across the street, and his complete stillness told of concentration mixed with fatigue. She lightly nudged one of his legs with her foot. “You bum,” she began, conversationally.



“There but for the grace of God . . .” he replied pleasantly, finally turning his gaze up to her. For a moment she noted his little self-conscious wince; his awareness of his unsavory appearance and her amusement at the same. “Spare change, pretty lady?”



She pulled out a street map and held it up, speaking to Mr. Peppermint over the top of it. “No luck so far on finding Ecklie. The police have been to the Marina and left cards on all the boats there. According to the official statements, they’re still investigating the explosion but they haven’t officially called it a bombing yet. I guess they can’t rule out the possibility of an accident until they finish an in-depth analysis, and that’s delayed because they have to send all the evidence to outlying labs. Is that vomit on your shirt?”



“Beef stew, masquerading as vomit. I apologize—it’s gotten a little pungent over the hours. Melanie Grace hasn’t come out of the building—at least not through the front door. Jim’s watching the back.”



“Ah. How long do you think you two will be out tonight?” Sara asked wistfully. Mr. Peppermint shifted a little and waved his arms, pointing towards the Strip.



“Jelly Bean and Sugar Baby are taking over in twenty minutes. If you’re free, I’d love to take you to dinner,” he murmured at her sweetly. Sara shook her map a little and pretended to look off towards the direction of the Strip.



“I’m sure we could cruise the back alleys here to our heart’s content,” she teased. Mr. Peppermint managed a little knowing grin.



“Then I could bring you back to my mobile home—“ he rapped the side of the dumpster, “Or maybe take you to my little place in the country—“ he pointed to an empty cardboard box braced up against a straggly tree at the curb. Sara snorted, covering her mouth with one hand at the sight.



Mr. Peppermint winked at her, and she smiled then, a full, beautiful sight in the reflections. Carefully she folded up the map, then fished in her purse, pulling out a pair of dollar bills. “You’ve got a date, hot stuff—I can’t resist a playboy like you.”



“Formal then,” he told her. “High heels, lipstick, tetanus shot—meet you at the front of Winston’s in an hour, Frango, and we’ll paint the town in shades of vermillion.”



“Vermillion?” she replied with a hint of surprise, but Mr. Peppermint didn’t reply; he cocked his head and looked at her with soft eyes as she blushed. Carefully she handed him the two dollars and he took them gently.



“Until then—“ He murmured, and Sara nodded. She straightened up and moved on down the sidewalk, in the direction of the lights as Mr. Peppermint watched her go, enjoying the vision of her taut backside swaying with each step. When he finally lost sight of her in the crowds, he turned his head, risking a glance at Eiger Enterprises.



Most of the lights were off in the building, except those on the third floor, and Mr. Peppermint had seen people passing behind the windows up there. He shifted a little, wishing he knew how this endgame would play out; a lot would depend on Ecklie once they found him.



He hoped it would be soon—stakeouts always seemed glamorous on TV, but in real life, they were boring and in this case, disgusting. Mr. Peppermint pocketed his two dollars and spoke into the little phone hooked into the lapel of his bathrobe. “Almost time to haul it in, Jim.”



“Not a damned moment too soon—I want to brush my teeth with bleach and sit in a steaming tub for about a week,” came the low grouse.



Mr. Peppermint chuckled. “Not having fun?”



“Oh sure I am—parking my butt on grease-stained concrete amid bags of old Chinese food and half-empty cans of pesticide just defines fun for me, Gil. Not to mention I got hit on by some shopping cart sweetheart who looked like Grandmamma Addams.”



“Lady killer.”



“I was tempted—she wanted to arm wrestle me for the rest of my fine dessert wine here.”



“And they say romance is dead,” Mr. Peppermint sighed. He squinted towards the street again, spotting a lean figure in a worn pea coat and knit cap heading his way. “I see Greg, so Ellie can’t be too far behind.”



“Amen, although I want her near the curb where JB can keep an eye on her—there’s only one light back here, and too many shadows.”



“Good idea. Out.”



Mr. Peppermint waited until Jelly Bean had picked up the cardboard box and set it up under the streetlight at the corner. The Bean pulled out three cards and began a little patter, his fingers moving the cards with expertise, his tone light and inviting. “Hey, hey, cheaper than any casino and twice as lucky folks! Find the lady and win right here, right now! It’s so easy, even a . . . .” he looked over at Mr. Peppermint, “--A permanent outdoorsman can find her!”



Mr. Peppermint arched an eyebrow at this euphemism, but said nothing, shuffling forward and giving a little grunt. Jelly Bean smiled sunnily. “Lay down a dollar and get three back, Sir, simple as collecting cans and a lot faster!”



Mr. Peppermint fished for one of the bills that Miss Chocolate had given him and dropped it on the box. A crowd of three people paused to watch as Jelly Bean shuffled the cards back and forth, his words running along in a smooth and practiced patois. “Hey, hey can you find her? See her move, see her move, here then there then back again, can you spot where the lady is now?”



He paused, looking at Mr. Peppermint with a teasing sense of confidence. Mr. Peppermint paused, scratching his chin for a second, and then reached out and tapped the card on the left. Jelly Bean flipped it over and revealed the red queen under the streetlight; the group gave a little murmur of approval. Jelly Bean pretended to be hurt. “Ow! Am I really so bad at this that a mere soup kitchen gourmand can beat me?”



Under the chuckles of the audience, Mr. Peppermint muttered in a barely audible voice, “Don’t tempt me to beat you in a much more physical sense, Greg. Give me my money—“



“Fine, fine—tell you what, I’ll double it if you give me a chance to win back my money—“ he said loudly, holding Mr. Peppermint’s gaze pleadingly. They went another orchestrated round, and Jelly Bean lost again, berating his bad luck. Mr. Peppermint collected the money and shuffled off, letting another person from the small group step into his place. He slowly ambled away, and around the corner of the Pay Day loan building, making his way down the alley and across another street to a parking garage, feeling a sense of relief and anticipation as he climbed into his car and drove off.

Jaw Breaker looked around the bar, feeling a little tickle at the back of his neck. It looked like any other seedy bar in Vegas: slot machines near the door, lots of neon barely lighting up a semi-dark interior, but there was something more in the atmosphere that made him keep looking back to the door. It wasn’t quite enough to keep him from walking in and checking for Ecklie, but he certainly wasn’t going to linger.



From the look on Licorice’s face, it was clear he felt the same way.



“This place creeps me out,” Jaw Breaker muttered, scanning the long, narrow room. The other man nodded, rubbing his jaw.



“It’s got a negative ambience. Bad feng shui goin’ on here . . . “



“Somethin’, “ Jaw Breaker agreed softly. They moved to the bar itself, a long counter of grey-white marble with little ebony half moons embedded into it. Behind the counter stood a powerfully muscled man in a tight black tee shirt with red lettering that said: My sperm have their own parole officer.



“What will you have?” he growled at them, literally, his words guttural and low.



Jaw Breaker tried to hide a flinch. “Oh, just a beer I guess—“ he replied. Licorice shot him a startled look and he shrugged.



“We got Trueblood and Heffershessenheisenbrausendeuselbach,” the bartender snapped, shifting his yellow-eyed stare at Licorice. “Which do you want?”



“Trueblood,” both men chimed in quickly. The bartender gave a little sniff and moved down to fetch the bottles.



Jaw Breaker gave a sidelong glance at Licorice. “Man, what kinda beer is called Trueblood?”



“The only one of the two I can pronounce,” Licorice admitted, adding, “Besides, we aren’t really here to drink anyway, right?”



“Right. You know I hate this bar?” Jaw Breaker told his partner in a low voice. “Just wanted that on the record.”



“Yeah, I know, and if Ecklie didn’t meet up with Pedro’s boys here once in a while we wouldn’t have to come in, but he does and still might, so just drink your Trueblood and keep looking around, all right?”



The bartender returned and uncapped the dark green bottles, letting the blood-red caps clink on the marble. Gingerly Jaw Breaker took a swig and choked, mid-swallow; the sudden splutter of foam and beer splattered as he quickly slammed the bottle back down on the counter.



The little spills on the marble hissed as Jaw Breaker quickly wiped his mouth with one hand.



A huge man standing on the other side of Jaw Breaker lifted his wet sleeve and shot a menacing look at him. Trying to be placating, Jaw Breaker lifted his other hand, his palm out towards the behemoth in black. “Sorry, buddy—it’s just a little stronger than I’m used to, you know?”



“You spilled on me. I have to hit you,” the man rumbled, in a voice so deep that came from somewhere under the inner core of the earth. Licorice tensed.



“Oh hey man, no, you don’t have to do that—“ he protested, but the bartender gave a sorrowful nod and pointed to the back wall, where a parchment scroll, torn and stained with faded splotches was pinned up with stilettos. In inky black fraktur it read: Lex Talionis enforced here. In smaller letters underneath it said: Drink at your own risk. Under that were a series of gashes that look suspiciously like claw marks.



“Lex Talionis?” Jaw Breaker muttered as one massive fist flew towards his head. He dodged, but not quickly enough. The man’s fist connected with his nose and the impact sent him crashing into Licorice, who staggered back, trying to brace.



“The hell?” Licorice shouted, half-lunging forward, the weight of Jaw Breaker against his shoulder. The other man shook his head sadly.



“Shoulda gone with the Heffershessenheisenbrausendeuselbach. It doesn’t burn as much, but it does grow hair on your tongue.”



“By dose—“ Jaw Breaker moaned, holding his hands over his face, blood leaking out from between his fingers and squirting onto the massive stranger’s coat. The big man looked down and gave a discouraged sigh.



“Now I have to hit you again.”



“Doe, doe, Iawl jus pay fo dry cleegning!” Jaw Breaker snuffled. Licorice glared up in the stranger’s face, righteous anger in his green eyes.



“Look man, you don’t have to hit him again—“



“—You taking his place?” came the calm question. Licorice didn’t quite flinch, but made an emphatic gesture with his chin, and the man swung once more. His sledgehammer fist met innocent cartilage, and the resounding splat had a distinctly meaty tone.



Instantly a duet of groans echoed out in the moment of silence at the bar.



And then of course, all hell broke loose.

Sara looked up from her purse and paused, looking at the shadows along the side of Melanie Grace’s house. The lighting wasn’t good, but she recognized the general shape of the man trying to skulk along the bushes up against the wall. She shook her head and checked her watch.



Just enough time.



Moving quietly, Sara made her way along the pier and towards the parking lot. When she was out of sight of the house, she shifted direction and circled around, finding a gap in the straggly box hedge around the back. By the sound of it, Ecklie was trying to reach the back door . . . she waited, and within a minute there he was, looking around guiltily.



Sara shook her head ruefully. She straightened up and cleared her throat; instantly he looked over at her, eyes wide. Sara gave a little laugh and waved a hand at him. “Helloooo? Excuse me? Um, excuse me, but could you please, please give me a hand? I was going to ask Miss Grace if I could use her phone, but thank GOD you’re here—“



“Shhh—“ Ecklie muttered, then came over to her, unwillingly. “Look, Miss, now is NOT a good time—“



“—Oh please, I just—I can’t get the trunk of my car open. I’ve got a big bag of fresh shrimp in there and I’m not going to leave it overnight. I was going to call my roadside assistance or maybe the police to help me get—“ At the mention of the police, Sara noted Ecklie flinched a little, and smelled . . . scared.



He stepped closer, his hands held up in a quieting gesture. “No, no you don’t need the police. Look, let me check it out, okay? It’s probably just a sticky lock—happens sometimes. Have you seen Miss Grace around?”



“No,” Sara replied carelessly, handing over her car keys. “Oooh can we hurry? I want to get my shrimp on ice as soon as I can. I got them over at Tully’s market over on Sedona, where they were having this sale you know? And I just thought to myself it’s been so LONG since I had shrimp—do you eat shrimp? I have this recipe---“



Prattling on, Sara walked with Ecklie to the Miata in the empty parking lot and handed him the keys. Ecklie said nothing, but kept looking around nervously. He bent to push the key in the lock of the trunk and turned it; the lid opened easily. Looking relieved, he straightened up and glanced at Sara who was reaching into her purse again. “Not a problem. So you’re all set.”



“Almost,” she told him, and brought up the atomizer. Sara spritzed him full in the face, aiming for his nose; within the first second he began to crumble up, his expression slightly stunned. Sara shifted forward to catch him and pushed his torso towards the interior of the trunk. He crumpled easily, dropping into the car with a heavy ‘thump’. With only a little strain, Sara shifted the rest of Ecklie inside, nearly folding up his long legs and closing the lid carefully.



She climbed into the driver’s seat and reached for her cell phone out of her purse. Mr. Peppermint answered on the second ring.



“Yes?”



“Hi—I have to make a quick stop at the office before dinner.”



“Oh?”



“Nothing serious, just a loose end to tie up,” she purred, a laugh in her voice as she started the car. Mr. Peppermint chuckled admiringly.



“You got him. Ah Miss Chocolate, you are a very dangerous woman.”



“I hope,” she sighed gently, “you remember that later.”