Page 107

“You do that.”

Upstairs, Candy is already half dressed. She stops when I come in.

“Things are going to be okay, right? We’re going to work this out?”

“We’re going to be fine,” I say. “But this is what happens when I try to be reasonable. I should be out shooting ­people right now. And you should be next to me tearing up the ­people I don’t shoot.”

She comes over and puts her arms around my neck.

“Let’s try things this way first, okay? If they don’t work out, there’s always time to run amok.”

“I’m glad you see it my way. You sure you don’t want to tell me where the White Light Legion hangs out?”

Candy gives me a peck on the lips, then goes back to putting on her clothes.

“Reasonable now. Decapitation later. That’s the deal,” she says.

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

WHEN WE GET to the office, Julie isn’t exactly surprised to see us or the letter. She reads over ours, takes an envelope out of a drawer, and drops an almost identical letter on the desk.

“It came yesterday,” she says. “Someone has it in for us. In a way, this is good news.”

“Exactly how is getting evicted good news?” I say.

“Because it means we’re making someone nervous and that only happens when you’re getting near the truth. We’re close to a breakthrough. I guarantee you, we’ll know why someone wanted to bind Vincent in a few days.”

“In the meantime, what do we do about these?” says Candy, holding up the letters.

“Sit tight. I’ll have some lawyers in the Vigil’s legal unit look them over. There’s always something to be done.”

I sit down.

“Are you sure? I mean these letters are obviously bullshit. No one is running the freeway through your place or ours. That means these aren’t legit and that means whoever sent them might not be in the mood to be reasoned with.”

“It’s still a legal proceeding,” Julie says. “Let me handle things.”

I get up and go to her coffeemaker, pour three cups.

“You’re the adult in the room. But if legal doesn’t work, I’m going to throw a big, bloody tantrum.”

I bring the cups to the desk. Julie takes one and says, “If legal doesn’t work, I might join you.”

Someone presses the buzzer on the street. Julie checks the little security cam over the door on her laptop and presses a button to unlock the door. A few seconds later, Brigitte comes into the office. She’s wearing a smart, navy-­blue dress with a longer skirt than usual. Conservative business wear for a meeting with the boss. She sets her bag on Julie’s desk. There are no more chairs, so she perches gracefully on the edge of the desk like a femme fatale in an old gangster movie.

“Thanks for coming in,” says Julie.

“It’s lovely to see you all. How was your walk in the woods?”

“Very interesting.”

“Hot,” I say. “I almost got stung by a bee.”

“You poor dear,” Brigitte says. “How did ever you survive?”

“It was touch and go for a while,” says Candy. “But we poured him into a cold martini and managed to revive him.”

“And they all lived happily ever after,” says Brigitte.