but he found one last bottle of beer and some slices of American cheese. He ate the cheese and chugged the beer. "Are you still seeing that cop?"
"Joe Morelli. Yep."
"What about the guy behind door number two?"
"Ranger? Yeah, I'm still working with Ranger." Ranger was my bounty hunter mentor and more. Problem was, the more part wasn't clearly defined.
I heard a snort and a questioning woof from the vicinity of my bedroom.
"What's that?" Diesel asked.
"Morelli's working double shifts, and I'm taking care of his dog, Bob."
There was the sound of dog feet running, and Bob rounded a corner and slid to a stop on the kitchen linoleum. He was a big-footed, shaggy, orange-haired beast with floppy ears and happy brown eyes. Probably golden retriever, but he'd never win best of breed. He sat his ass down on Diesel's boot and wagged his tail at him.
Diesel absently fondled Bob's head, and Bob drooled a little on Diesel's pant leg, hoping for a scrap of cheese.
"Is this visit social or professional?" I asked Diesel.
«
"Professional. I'm looking for a guy named Bernie Beaner. I need to shut him down."
If I'm to believe Diesel, there are people on this planet who have abilities that go beyond what would be considered normal human limitations. These people aren't exactly superheroes. It's more that they're ordinary souls with the freakish ability to levitate a cow or slow-pitch a lightning bolt. Some are good and some are bad. Diesel tracks the bad. The alternative explanation for Diesel is that he's a wacko.
"What's Beaner's problem?" I asked.
Diesel dropped a small leftover chunk of cheese into Rex's cage and gave another chunk to Bob. "Gone off the edge. His marriage went into the shitter, and he blamed it on another Unmentionable. Now he's out to get her."
"Unmentionable?"
"That's what we call ourselves. It sounds better than freak of nature."
Only marginally.
Bob was pushing against Diesel, trying to get him to give up more cheese. Bob was about ninety pounds of rangy dog, and Diesel was two hundred of hard muscle. It would take a lot more than Bob to bulldoze Diesel around my kitchen.
"And you're in my apartment, why?" I asked Diesel.
"I need help."
"No. No, no, no, no, no."
"You have no choice, sweetie pie. The woman Beaner's looking for is on your most-wanted list. And she's in my custody. If you want your big-ticket bond, you have to help me."
"That's horrible. That's blackmail or bribery or something."
