Diesel handed Carl a bag with apples, oranges, bananas, and grapes. “I got you fruit.”
Carl looked at the fruit and gave Diesel the finger.
“Dude,” Diesel said. “I‘ve spent a lot of time in southeast Asia. Monkeys eat fruit.”
Carl jumped onto the counter and pawed through the remaining food bags. He found a box of cookies and took it back to the couch.
“You‘ll rot your teeth,” I told Carl. “You‘ll get diabetes.”
“Do you know where to find Weiner and Cuddles?” Diesel asked.
“Yes.”
He finished his sub and grabbed a banana. “Let‘s roll.”
“What about Carl?”
Diesel looked in on Carl. “Are you okay here by yourself?”
Carl vigorously nodded his head and gave Diesel a thumbs-?up.
WE CHOSE TO watch Doc Weiner because the mall felt unwieldy. Too many people. Too much space, plus I couldn‘t see myself looking for a guy named Cuddles who was walking around dealing heavy chemicals out of a briefcase.
Not that I was excited about staking out Stark Street. It was affectionately known as the combat zone, and it lived up to its name on a daily basis. In order to better fit in with the local atmosphere, Diesel was driving a black Cadillac Escalade with titanium wheel covers, dark tinted windows, and multiple antennae. I didn‘t ask where he got it. We were parked half a block down and across the street from the Sky Social Club, and we looked like your average contract killer/neighborhood drug dealer in our badass gas-?guzzler.
“Do you know what Doc Weiner looks like?” Diesel asked.
“No. Does it matter?”
Diesel pushed his seat back and stretched his legs. “Just curious.”
“What do you think goes on inside this social club?” Diesel looked across the street. “Business transactions, card games, prostitution. The usual.”
“Have you ever been in a social club like this?”
Diesel nodded. “They‘re the same the world over. They‘re grungy hangouts for crime families and their retinue of suck-?ups and stooges.”
“There are a couple social clubs in the Burg, but most of the men are recovering from hip replacements and are on oxygen.”
“The golden years,” Diesel said.
The Sky Social Club was housed in a narrow three-?story building, squished between a butcher shop and a coin-?op Laundromat. The front door to the club was wooden and weathered. The windows had blackout shades drawn. Overall, the appearance was grim.
Two young guys went into the club. Minutes later, one came out with a folding chair. He set the chair by the door, lit up, and sat down. An hour later, we were still watching, but nothing was happening. No one was going in, and no one was coming out.
“We don‘t need two people to do this. I should take off and watch the guy at the mall,” I said to Diesel.
“Give me a break. You just want to go shopping.”
I rolled my eyes so far into the top of my head I almost went unconscious, and I did a huge snort of indignation. This all in spite of the fact that he was right.
“You are so annoying,” I said.
“I try my best.”
“Tell me again why I need to sit here with you.”
“If I stay here alone and Wulf shows up instead of Munch, he‘ll sniff me out and vanish. And then he might not come back, and we‘ll have lost our lead. The real question is why do I have to sit here with you. I could be taking a nap in your nice, comfy bed right now.”