“And?”
“Unidentified male. Not Munch. No bullet holes or stab wounds. Bucky Burlew pulled the case, and since the guy‘s head was facing in the wrong direction, Bucky‘s thinking his neck was broken. Ordinarily, I wouldn‘t know any of this, but I was supposed to meet Bucky at Pino‘s for lunch. This is half-?price day for meatball subs.”
“Did you get a sub anyway?”
“Yeah. I went with Joe Zelock. He‘s in town with those naked male dancers. He‘s their token heterosexual.”
Zelock used to be a Trenton cop. He rose in the ranks, went politico, and got busted for acting in a porno film. Somehow, he got himself onto one of those reality talent shows. He didn‘t win, but he got a gig with a traveling Chippendales-?style dance troupe. Word on the street is that he‘s making okay money. Of course, some of it gets stuffed into some pretty strange places, but I guess a little disinfectant spray, and the money‘s as good as any other.
I disconnected and told Diesel about the dead guy.
“Did Morelli say there was anything unusual about the victim?”
“Like what?”
“I‘ve seen Wulf‘s handiwork. He likes to break his victim‘s neck. Nice and neat. Doesn‘t get blood on his clothes. He uses an ancient Chinese technique that only a few men have ever mastered. In fact, it‘s said you have to be born with the Dragon Claw.”
“What‘s a Dragon Claw?”
“Wulf can channel energy to his hands and use them to burn a brand into flesh. When he uses his hands to kill, he also inflicts a perfect print of his hand on the victim‘s neck.”
I felt the blood drain out of my brain, my vision went cobwebby, and bells clanged in my head.
Diesel reached over and put his hand to the back of my neck. “Breathe,” he said.
His hand was warm, and the warmth radiated out to my fingertips and toes and everyplace in between.
“Are you okay?” he asked me. “Your face turned white, and I felt your blood pressure drop.”
“Too much information. I didn‘t need to know about the Dragon Claw.”
Diesel smiled wide. “You‘re such a girl.”
“I‘m going to take that as a compliment.”
“I need to crash,” Diesel said. “I was brought in from Moscow last night and I‘m beat.”
“Where do you want me to drop you?”
“Take me home.”
“You have a home?”
“Take me to your home. I‘m staying with you.”
“Oh no. No, no, no.”
“Give it up,” Diesel said. “It‘s not like you can kick me out.”
“You are not staying in my apartment. Where will you sleep?”
“I‘ll sleep with you.”
“Never happen. No way. Forget about it.”
“You‘ll come around. Anyway, I want your bed, not your body.”
“Really?”