“You get a lot of college boys in the Wheelhouse?”

“Some.”

Wow, this was a scintillating exchange. Since it didn’t seem to be going anywhere, I decided to try blindsiding Jerry. “Hey, I’m curious. What was the star attraction in Dr. Midnight’s Traveling Sideshow?”

There was the slightest of pauses before he turned his flat, dead gaze on me. “A headless chicken.” Somehow, the casual lack of menace in his tone made it all the more menacing. He made a slicing motion across his throat. “Little fucker got the ax, but it was still alive. Used to run around and flap its wings, trying to peck at shit without a head. We fed it through its gullet with an eyedropper. You should’ve seen it, blondie. You’d have loved it.”

Okay, ew!

“So the circus closed down and you lost your chicken,” Cody said. “What made you decide to move to Pemkowet?”

The bartender gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s say I had a taste for some wholesome small-town living.”

“Including acting as a go-between for a known meth dealer?” Cody pressed him.

Jerry shrugged again. “Some boys were looking for a man; I gave them a man’s phone number. None of my business what they did with it.” His face tightened. “Got ’em off the premises, didn’t it? So they wouldn’t offend Mister High Lord Muckety-Muck’s delicate sensitivities. A lot of thanks I got for it.”

“See, here’s the thing, Jerry.” Cody rested his hands on his utility belt, his tone taking on a harder edge. “I’m pretty sure you’re lying. And I’m pretty sure those boys weren’t looking for drugs.”

“See, here’s the thing, Ossifer.” Jerry mimicked his pose, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. “I’m pretty sure I don’t give a flying fuck.”

I glanced at the windows of his rented house, slatted blinds drawn. “Have you got any houseguests, Jerry?”

“Nope.”

I cocked my head. “How about an aquarium? Do you keep fish?”

Another infinitesimal beat passed before Jerry unhooked one hand and scratched his opposite shoulder, the spiderweb shoulder. “No. Why would I? What the fuck would I want with fish?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “What did you want with a headless chicken?”

He gave me his flat stare. “It was a job. That stupid fucking headless chicken made money for us.”

“What happened to it?” I asked.

Jerry smiled, and this time it was genuine. Creepy, but genuine. “It died. Everything does, blondie. Eventually.”

Ew and double ew. My skin crawled.

“About Ray D—” Cody began.

“I don’t know nothing more about Ray D, Ossifer.” Jerry Dunham dusted his grease-stained hands together. “Look, I did my part. I gave Lord Muckety-Muck the only number I had, the same number I gave those boys. If it’s no good . . .” He spread his hands. “Not my problem.”