“No answer?” said Kat. “You’re not going to tell me to go to hell?”

“Go to hell.”

“Feel good?”

“Yes, actually,” said Kyle. “And screw yourself. That felt good, too.”

“But you’re not going to stop.”

“Doesn’t it seem strange that this pretty cop keeps asking me how my father died and I don’t have any real answers? Maybe I should find out what I can before it’s too late?”

“Too late for what?”

“For the answers to still be there. Laszlo Toth is already dead. Who else is going to disappear before I learn the truth?”

“Your father died from a heart attack. They cremated his body. You still have some of the ashes in that bubble-gum box you’ve been holding since you were twelve.”

“Don’t you think I should get to the bottom of the whole thing right now?”

“I think you’ve reached it, baby.” Pause. “So what are you going to do?”

“There was a file cabinet missing from my dad’s office. I think my dad might have taken it before he died and a file might be in it that has some answers. I’m going to find it.”

“Any idea where it might be?”

“Yeah, one. But checking it out would be like marching naked into the den of Godzilla. Frankly, I don’t have the guts for it.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’m sending in Skitch.”

CHAPTER 17

LASZLO TOTH MIGHT HAVE BEEN the ogre in Kyle Byrne’s closet,

but he was only the second-most ferocious of Kyle’s demons. Number one lived in a house on Panama Street.

Kyle sat in his battered red sports car on Panama, tapping his fingers nervously on the steering wheel. He was parked well away from the house, but even so, being this close terrified the hell out of him. He was overwhelmed with the fear that a harpy with huge breasts and saber claws would fly out of that house, pull him from that car by his cheek, tear into his flesh with serrated teeth and bloodstained lips. “A boy like you,” the creature would screech in her bizarre French accent, “has no place here.”

As soon as he saw Skitch walk nonchalantly out of the house of horrors and saunter toward the car, Kyle turned the key and ignited the engine. As soon as Skitch opened the passenger door, Kyle shifted into gear. Before Skitch could even close the door behind him, Kyle popped the clutch, sending the car bucking away and slamming Skitch’s head into the headrest. The balding tires squealed like two frightened cats.

“Yo, what’s the rush?” shouted Skitch.

“I had to get the hell away from there before she came out and ate my liver.”

“Who, the sweet old French lady?”

“Don’t even try. I could feel the evil emanating from that house. It was like the Eye of Mordor was staring at me.”

“Old Tommy is right. You are such a pussy.”

“I don’t deny it.”

“And you got her all wrong. Cissy’s a doll.”

“Cissy?”

“She even made me tea.”

“Cissy?”

“Chamomile.”

“Boiled newt brains, most likely.”

“And there were sugar cookies.”

“Sugar cookies? Dude, listen to yourself. You’ve been lured to the dark side by sugar cookies. Next thing you know, your skin will decay and you’ll be breathing out of a black mask.”

“I had a Darth Vader mask for Halloween once. I spent the whole night saying ‘Luke, you have my candy.’ I was so annoying they gave me double just to get rid of me. You know she’s married.”

“To my dad.”

“No, she remarried. Her husband was there, too. Sid. Nice guy.”

“I don’t believe any of this.”

“No, he was. He had big brown shoes and was wearing a cardigan. She seemed—and I know you don’t want to hear this—she seemed okay.”

“Shut up.”

“I actually liked her. And let me tell you, if she was twenty years younger, I’d do her.”

“Please, shut up, before I puke in my bucket seat. What did you find out?”

“It’s not there.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she told me.”

“And you believed her?”

“Cissy wouldn’t lie.”

“Did you look around, search the basement or something?”

“I was too busy eating cookies. They were soft, just like I like them, and big as grapefruit.”

“Dude.”

“I love cookies. Cooookies. But I believed her. I gave her the whole O’Malley speech, like you told me to, and—get this—I wasn’t the first O’Malley to knock at the door. There was another O’Malley before me, looking for the same damn file cabinet.”

“Son of a bitch beat me to it. When?”

“Before the funeral.”

“So the real O’Malley came to me after he couldn’t find his precious file here. Okay, now I see. Maybe it’s not there after all. You get anything else?”

“Well, she remembered something she hadn’t told the real O’Malley. She said her husband did have a business relationship with someone outside of his legal office. It wasn’t law, it was real estate. She said if the file cabinet wasn’t in the law office, she thought maybe it could be with the partner.”

“Who the hell was that?”

“Guess.”

CHAPTER 18

KYLE’S CAR WAS an old red Datsun 280ZX, with a ripped leather interior, an engine spewing oil smoke, and brakes that wailed like the lamentations of barbarian women. Kyle’s head brushed the car’s roof, one shoulder of his T-shirt rubbed against the door, the other banged into Skitch, and the oil smoke that leaked into the interior made him slightly ill. Not much to brag about, but Kyle’s car was the last thing of value he still owned in this world, and he loved it. He had no job, no girl, no real money, no place of his own, no plans for the future, but by golly by gee he had that car, and in a way it was almost enough.

“How much farther?” said Kyle as he and Skitch headed into the heart of South Philly.

“Just a few blocks,” said Skitch. “So will you talk to Kat for me?”

“No.”

“This thing we got is going to go gangbusters, and I thought with all the money she’s pulling in from that law firm, she might want to get in on the ground floor.”