Fall Guy

what I mean?“
    I nodded. I knew exactly what he meant. I'd seen the decimated liquor cabinet and the empties everywhere, the cans and bottles Brody had bagged and carried out.
    „He was pissed, irrational. It was just a few f guys having a beer, shooting the shit. Cops.“ He shook his head, took a few fries, passed them through the ketchup, opened his mouth wide and i dropped them in.
    I There was something sexual about the way he did that, his eyes on me and not on the food, everything in slow motion. I thought it was a survival response, trying to seduce anything that moved to get whatever it was he needed at the ; time—a smoke, some money, a place to live, his possessions. But it wasn't working on me and I didn't think it had worked on Tim. I didn't know I Tim's motive for taking Parker into his home, but whatever it was, I didn't believe he'd been fooled J into it.
    „He was really pissed, huh?“
    „You better believe it. He just blew up and shoved us out the door. No one could get a word in edgewise.“
    „Same as the cops the next day, not even letting you get your stuff?“
    He nodded.
    „Only Tim took the keys before he kicked you out.“
    „No, he didn't. He was too angry to think about something like that. I really lost them. I mean, maybe I left them in the apartment. I don't remember what the hell I did with them after I unlocked the door. You never have trouble finding yours?“
    „So what fucking choice did you have, right?
    You needed your stuff, you had to break the window to get in?“
    „I called him, you know. I figured he had the night to calm down, get over himself. I figured at least he'd let me get my stuff. Worst-case scenario, I figured he'd pitch it out the door.“
    „But there was no answer.“
    He nodded, his expression never changing. He was playing the sincerity gambit, portraying himself as the aggrieved person, doing so without a trace of irony. And as far as I could tell, sitting across from him, there was no sign he didn't believe every single word he was saying.
    „I figured, even better, you know what I mean? He didn't want me there, fine, to hell with him. He must have gone back to his sister's house, caught an early shift, whatever; I could get in there, grab my stuff and get out, not even have to see him.“
    „But it didn't work out that way. First, you get there and you stick your hand in your pocket, and there aren't any keys.“
    He sat back, smiling. „I rang a few bells. Someone always rings you in.“
    „And the door to the garden was unlocked.“
    „Usually is.“
    „Then you pried the window with Jin Mei's palette knife.“
    „Lock was a piece of shit,“ he said, „just for show.“
    „And then what?“
    „I went in to get my stuff. What do you think?“
    „I think you had a terrific shock when you went for your toothbrush. That's what I think.“
    Parker drummed his long fingers on the table.
    „I've seen dead people before,“ he said. He picked up his glass and took a long drink. „He need anything?“ He was looking at Dashiell. He picked up a fry, danced it up and down in the ketchup and dangled it over Dash's head. A glob of ketchup landed on Dashiell's white fur. Parker shrugged and dropped the fry back on his plate. „So when can I get my stuff, Rachel?“
    I took my napkin, dipped it in the water glass, told Dashiell to put his paws up on the fence and wiped his head.
    „Where were you Saturday night? Where did you stay?“
    He shrugged. „With a friend.“
    „Does the friend have a name?“
    He shook his head. No name. Not one he was about to tell me. Or not one he'd thought up yet.
    „What about now? Where are you living these days?“
    „My aunt's apartment. Why, you got a better idea?“
    „Lucky you,“ I said, „you always end up with a place to stay, one way or another.“
    „Yeah, it worked out okay. But I need my stuff.“
    „Give me the number there. I'll call you, okay?“ He wrote the number on a napkin and passed it across the table to me. I opened O'Fallon's briefcase and dropped it in.
    „I won't take but five minutes,“ he said.
    „Okay. Friday afternoon, between one and two.“
    „Not tomorrow?“
    „You don't want to be there tomorrow,“ I told him, not wanting to tell him the truth, that I wouldn't be there tomorrow.
    „Why not?“
    I waited for him to draw his own conclusion.
    „The cops? Shit.“
    I picked up my burger, broke off a piece for Dashiell, took a bite of what was left.
    „I