Artist.
“Come on, Buckley,” she said. “Or Frannie. Maybe I’m a fool, but I’m taking you home with me.”
I turned off the space heater and followed the two of them up the stairs. When I got to the top, Tim and Marty were holding the Artist. I told them we were done—she could vanish into whatever shadows she chose.
55
There Is Some Justice in This World, Just Not Enough
Marty Jepson and Tim Radke were heading to Plotzky’s to join their other friends for a drink or six and wanted me to join them.
“Chad’s off the hook,” Tim Radke said. “You were awesome, Vic. Wish you’d been with our squad in Iraq.”
I told them that they were pretty awesome themselves, but that I’d take a rain check for now. “Drink one for me. We’ll catch up soon.”
Marty stayed a moment to apologize for losing his cool. “Man, I watched Chad disintegrate into that kind of rage a hundred times and never thought it could happen to me. But when I saw that guy—and wearing the Iraq medal—if Chad’s dad hadn’t beat me to it, it would’ve been me with my hands around his throat.”
“You saw someone getting away with framing one of your buddies for murder. Most people would have had a brainstorm under those circumstances. I wouldn’t worry that it’ll keep happening to you.”
“I—” His voice cracked, and then he surprised us both by pulling me close and giving me a full-treatment kiss. “You take care, Vic. And if you ever need help—any help with anything—well, you know how to send for the Marines, right?”
He turned and ran across the room after Tim Radke.
Sal was waiting to close. She and Erica had swept up the debris, but a decontamination team would have to come in before she could reopen the Glow.
I took a stool next to her at the end of the bar. “You were right, Sal: I should have rented a theater. I somehow wasn’t imagining that there would be people stupid enough to fire guns in a crowded room.”
Sal poured me a slug of one of those liquid-gold single malts that I can’t afford to get used to. “The damage wasn’t as bad as it might have been. A table, some glassware, and that light fixture near the exit. Which, thank the goddess, wasn’t an original. I guess that was when that guy was trying to shoot the Body Artist. As long as Rainier Cowles and the woman who got shot instead of the Artist don’t sue, we should be okay.”
“If your insurance doesn’t cover the decon team, I’ll take care of it. And the chandelier and table.” I couldn’t bear to think about my expenses on this venture.
“I’ll make that my donation to truth, justice, and the Warshawski way,” she said drily. “You pulled it off, girl. When you came out under the spotlights, I was completely convinced. You were the Body Artist.”
“Yeah. We’re just a bunch of interchangeable parts, aren’t we, under our clothes.”
“Don’t go down that road, at least not tonight. Go back to your own crib, get your life back in order. Get on a plane and surprise Jake over there in Amsterdam, or wherever he is right now. Do something good for yourself, you hear?”
My smile felt lopsided, but I squeezed her hand, drank up, went back to my own place for the first night in a week. My neighbor had stayed up until he was sure I was home safely. I hugged him but went on up the stairs to shampoo the heavy lacquer out of my hair. When I got out of the shower, Mr. Contreras was in my dining room with the dogs and a plate of scrambled eggs. Mitch and Peppy were ecstatic to see me again, which brought as much comfort as the late-night supper and Mr. Contreras’s affection.
I knelt to fondle Peppy’s ears. “If you’d been in the Golden Glow tonight, you’d have known right away it was me. Not a body, but me, V. I. Warshawski.”
Mr. Contreras had a thing or two to say about me being naked on the stage. “I told you two months ago, women who sit around naked onstage get what’s coming to them.”
“And how reassuring it is to hear that again. Although Terry Finchley seems to think that not knowing who was naked under all that paint is what unnerved Anton. Anton thought I was the Body Artist. And then when Karen, or Frannie—or whatever we’re going to call her—had her outburst at