“The roof, Marion. Look at the roof.”

All he could see was a target scope and the muzzle of Bubba’s rifle. Big target scope, though. The only way to miss with a scope that big would be in the event of an instant solar eclipse. Even then, you’d have to be lucky.

I said, “We’re all in this together, Marion. If I nod, you go first.”

Socia said, “I’ll take your girlfriend with me. Believe it.”

I shrugged. “She ain’t my girlfriend.”

Socia said, “Like you don’t care, Kenzie. Try that shit on someone who ”

I said, “Look, Marion, you’re probably not used to this, but what you got here is a no-win situation and not much time to think about it.” I looked at Lollipop. I couldn’t see his eyes, but drops of sweat were doing relay races down his forehead. Not easy holding a gun steady all this time. I looked back at Socia. “The guy on the roof, he might just get ideas of his own real soon. Figure he can pull the trigger fast, twice” I glanced at Lollipop ”and take the two of you out before you get a shot off. He might decide to do that on his own, before I nod. Before I do anything. He’s been known to... act on his own inner voice before. He’s not real stable. You listening, Marion?”

Socia was in his Place wherever it is people like him go to hide their fear and emotion. He looked around slowly, up and down Washington Street, but never once at the roof. He took his time about it, then looked back at me. “What’s my guarantee I put my gun back in my pocket?”

“Nothing,” I said. “You want guarantees, go to Sears. I can guarantee you’ll be dead if you don’t.” I looked at Lollipop. “Hell, I’m fixing to use this kid’s gun on him as it is.”

Lollipop said, “Sure you are, man,” but his voice sounded hoarse, an untaken breath sitting atop his esophagus.

Socia looked up and down the street again, then shrugged. His hand came out from behind Angie’s back. He held the gun where I could see it a Bren nine millimeter  then stepped from behind Angie and put it inside his jacket. He said, “Lollipop, put it away.”

The kid’s name was actually “Lollipop.” Patrick Kenzie, Psychic Detective. Lollipop’s lip was curled upward toward his nose and his breathing was hard, showing me how tough he was, the gun still in my side, but the hammer down. Stupid. He looked ready to prove his manhood, not because he wasn’t terrified, but because he was. Usually the way it works. But he was too busy watching my face, proving how much of a man he was. I pivoted slightly with my hip, no big movement, and the gun was suddenly pointed at air. I took the gun hand in mine, snapped my forehead off the bridge of his nose, cracking the Vuarnets in half, and shoved the gun into his stomach with his own hand. I pulled back the hammer. “You want to die?”