"Cherokee ran some kind of spare-parts business." When Charbonneau made a sweeping gesture I could see a dark crescent under his armpit. "But apparently sprockets and carburetors weren't profitable enough. We found about two kilos of coke hidden in the big brave's underwear drawer. No doubt a safe spot since the guy looks like he never changed his shorts. Anyway, that's probably what inspired the surprise visit. But who knows? Maybe it was retaliation for the Marcotte hit."

"Spider."

Charbonneau nodded.

"Were there signs of forced entry?"

"There's a broken window in the bedroom, but that's not how they got in."

"It's not?"

"Most of the fragments are in the al ey. Looks like the window was popped from inside."

"By whom?"

He gave a palms-up gesture.

"So how did the kil er get in?"

"He must have let them in."

"Why would he do that?"

"Cherokee was wily as a pit bul and just a little less friendly. But he'd outlived the stats and was probably starting to feel immortal."

"Except for the cancer."

"Right. Let me show you something."

Charbonneau crossed to the body and I fol owed. Close up the smel was stronger, a nauseating blend of charred wool, gasoline, excrement, and putrefying flesh. He pul ed out his hankie and held it across his nose.

"Check out the tattoos." Muffled.

Cherokee's right hand was in his lap, his left flung at an odd angle across the arm of the chair, fingers hanging toward the carpet. Despite a thick layer of soot, a cluster of skul s was clearly visible on his right wrist. There were fifteen in al , arranged in a pyramid like the mysterious offerings found in European caves. But these trophies showed a distinction our Neanderthal ancestors had failed to make. Thirteen of the skul s had black eyes, two had red.

"They're like notches on a gun." Charbonneau took the cloth from his mouth lust long enough to speak. "Black means he kil ed a male, red a female."

"Pretty stupid to advertise."

"Yeah, but our boy here was old school. Today they're listening more to their lawyers."

From the amount of bloating and skin slippage I guessed the victim had been dead a couple of days.

"How was he found?"

"The usual. A neighbor complained about a foul odor. Amazing anyone would notice in this shithole."

I looked at the body again. Other than the bad teeth and mustache it was impossible to tel what the man had looked like. What was left of his head rested against the back of the chair, a dark blossom staining the upholstery around it. I could see shotgun pel ets in the flesh that had been his face.

"Like the special effects?"