Chapter 113

“The cafeteria is closed this time of night.”

“Then we’ll just go for a little walk, okay?”

“Well…I…that is…I….”

Matheson walked him off.

Nice work. I turned my attention to more important things—that bed for Pretty Boy.

Senator Franklin’s personal private number was in my cell phone’s contact list. I pulled it up and hit “send.”

He had been the congressman who’d had a minor heart attack in Pretty Boy’s bed, and while he no longer used Pretty Boy’s services, he still asked after him obliquely whenever we met.

* * * *

I was still living in the attic apartment I rented from the rent boys, and I happened to be at home when there was a frantic pounding on my door. No one knew where I lived, but I had my Glock out anyway when I went to answer it.

Sweetcheeks was standing there, pale and shaken, twitchy. “Were you serious about us banging on the pipes if we needed you?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m banging on the pipes.”