After dinner, she tells herself.
They hold hands as Sam pulls out of the parking lot.
CHAPTER 43
AFTER THREE HOURS of sitting next to a cornfield, hiding every time a police car cruised by, I was almost grateful when the Crimebago pulled up.
Almost.
Harry parked alongside the street, and I entered cautiously, wincing at the noxious odor when I stepped inside. It smelled like Mighty Joe Young had run a marathon and then taken a bath in his own feces.
McGlade was standing next to the sofa, arms folded, frowning. I noticed Slappy’s cage was empty.
“Did you get rid of the macaque?” I asked, hopeful.
“No. He kept screaming and hitting himself in the face, so I let him out until he calmed down. Not my brightest idea.”
“Where is he?” I asked, casting ner vous rapid-fire glances around the RV.
“In the corner there. He learned a new trick.”
Slappy was propped against the wall, upside-down with his legs over his head. He was urinating, again, but this time he managed to catch most of it in his open mouth.
“That is one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen.”
“It gets worse,” McGlade said. “When he’s all done, he tries to spit it on you.”
Slappy began to make a gargling sound. For the first time ever, my cat Mr. Friskers didn’t seem so bad.
“Did you call Al’s Exotic Pets?”
“Al said all sales are final. Can’t really blame him.”
“Would he trade for anything else? Like maybe some feeder minnows? Or a chew toy?”
“No. But he offered to euthanize Slappy for fifty bucks.” Slappy puffed out his cheeks and spit a stream of urine toward us. We jumped away. “I’m thinking about it.”
“Don’t you dare, Harry. You just need to take some time and train him.”
“I tried. I don’t think he likes me.”
“What’s not to like?” I did my best to say it without sounding sarcastic.
“He might be mad because of the stick. When he was in his cage, I kept showing him a picture of Alex, and then poking him with a stick. You know, so if he ever saw her, he’d attack. But he seems to be holding a grudge. See?”
Harry took a step toward his monkey. Slappy opened his mouth, baring yellow fangs, snarling like a pit bull.
“Maybe you should stop poking him with the stick,” I said.
“No shit.”
Keeping one eye on the primate, I walked to the sofa and sat down. I stood up again immediately, my butt damp.
“There’s something wet on your couch.”
Harry nodded. “Do yourself a favor and don’t try to smell it. It’s better to lie to yourself and pretend it’s ginger ale.”
“Did you spill ginger ale?”
“No. That’s piss, shit, or monkey spooge.”
I made a face.
“Might also be some combination of the three,” Harry added. “Or vomit. Could be vomit.”
I let out a slow breath and wondered how I’d get the ginger ale stain out.
Slappy made a screeching sound that eerily resembled laughter. He was still upside-down, but was no longer going to the bathroom. Instead, he was abusing himself with his little monkey fist, eyes locked on mine. The expression on his face was one of smug satisfaction.
“Al told me that macaques can live for thirty years,” Harry said.
I actually felt a little sorry for him. I moved cautiously over to the computer, checked the chair for unpleasant surprises, then sat down.
“Did you find the latest cell phone?”
McGlade nodded. “It’s in Milwaukee. Where’s Phin?”
I felt myself go cold. “Phin won’t be helping us anymore.”
“How’d you scare him off? Did he see you naked?”
“I didn’t scare him off. And fuck you.”
“We need him.”
“We don’t need him. He’s unreliable.”
“Hasn’t he saved your life a bunch of times?”
“He’s a drug addict.”
“You just figured that out now? Of course he’s a drug addict. He’s dying of cancer. If I had the big C I’d be snorting so much cocaine I’d need two crack whores to help me hold the heroin needle steady.”
“There are prescription drugs.”
“We’re chasing a killer. You want him stoned on opiates? At least with coke he’ll be alert.”
“We’ll be fine without him.”
“Sure. Slappy can watch our backs. Right Slappy?”
We looked at Slappy, but he wasn’t in the corner anymore. He was gone.
“Uh-oh,” McGlade said. He grabbed something off the kitchen sink and tossed it to me. A Ping-Pong paddle. He also brandished one in his good hand.
“I’m not going to spank your monkey, McGlade.”
“I hope not, sis. That’s gross.”
“You know what I mean.”
“This is purely defensive, if he tries to-”
Something flew across my line of sight, and McGlade brought the paddle up to his face. A clump of monkey dung splattered onto it.
I quickly stood up and looked around the room, raising the paddle up over my mouth. About the only thing that could make my life worse was a faceful of Slappy crap, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.
“Where is he?” I said, justifiably paranoid. “I don’t see him.”
“We should get back to back,” Harry said. “Then he can’t sneak up on us.”
I nodded, backing into Harry, my eyes scanning the RV for any movement.
“Let’s go up to the cab. We can close the door so he can’t get us.”
“Good call.”
We walked cautiously over to the front of the Crimebago, my senses hyper-alert, like I was in a gunfight. I felt things squish underfoot but was afraid to look down and see what they were.
We were only two feet away from the cab when the monkey jumped off the refrigerator and leaped at me, howling, fangs bared and eyes wild. He caught my paddle, and his teeth latched on to my knuckle. I shook him free and then ran, with Harry, into the front of the RV and slammed the door behind me.
“Your monkey bit me!”
“Yeah, he does that.”
Harry settled into the driver’s seat. I stared at the blood running down my finger.
“Jesus, McGlade! Should I get this looked at?”
He shrugged. “I would. I can’t even remember all the disgusting things he put in his mouth today. Plus, he probably has all sorts of monkey diseases.” He started the engine. “Maybe you should just cut the finger off, before the germs get into your bloodstream.”
I used my sweatshirt to swab away some of the blood.
“Do you have a first aid kit?”
“It’s in the back.”
We both stared at the closed door. Scary monkey sounds came from behind it.
“Want to use my gun?” Harry asked.
I declined, instead using some tissues from the glove compartment and half a bottle of water that was in the cup holder.
“I know what will make you feel better,” Harry said.
He pressed a button on the dashboard, and the RV filled with Pink Floyd.
Amazingly, the screeching and pounding stopped.
“I guess Slappy is a fan of seventies psychedelic rock,” I said.
“That or he found my Vicodin. He got into my medicine cabinet earlier. Are those little bottles monkey-proof?”
“Probably.” I had no idea.
“You want to go check?”
“Hell no.”
“Well, then. We’ll assume it’s the Floyd. Wisconsin, ho.”
Harry put the RV into gear, and we headed east.
CHAPTER 44
ALEX HAS THE WINDOW CRANKED DOWN-a temporary solution for the smell coming from the body in the backseat. She’ll deal with it soon. But she has other business first.
The wind is cold, harsh, and slaps at her cheeks. She only feels its sting on her right side. Alex brings up a hand, touches the rubbery scar tissue, feels a bit of stubble. One of the skin grafts was taken from her leg, and the hairs are sharp and pointy. She thinks about shaving again-an act that humiliates her almost as much as it angers her-and decides not to.