Chapter 3

Hundreds of convex, jiggling puddles rested on the hood and reflected the light of the street lamp above and then became still after the black sedan came to a stop. It had finally stopped raining and the air was as fresh as it could be considering the location. The buildings looked like they had survived a nuclear bomb blast. Close enough to do damage but far enough to leave the structures intact. People did not come to this dark, deserted, and crime filled part of the city to "get away from it all." Two street kids promptly crossed to the other side of the street when they saw this particular vehicle turn the corner. "It's Johnny," said one. "Don't look him in the eye," said the other as they watched the man enclosed in a black trench coat exit his car, climb the steps, and disappear behind the metal door that made a hole in the brick exterior.

Any reasonable person would never think of leaving their vehicle in this part of town for any length of time. Cars got disassembled here like dead grasshoppers on top of an ant hill. Johnny Malum didn't worry.

"Your sloppiness is going to cost you Johnny," came a silky voice from the back room as the metal door slammed shut. Johnny sat down across the room from someone who could have been on the cover of a men's magazine and was dressed to a "T". "What are you talking about and why do you insist on wearing white all the time?" asked Johnny. There was no response. "Well, are you going to answer me or are you going to sit there trying to light your hand on fire?" asked Johnny again. The man was calmly sitting upright with his hand over a lit lighter. "I get homesick sometimes," he said with a sly grin that you would swear came right off a fox.