"That's weird," Diesel said. "Why would Bernie give himself hives?"

"I don't know," Flash said, "but these aren't happy people. They're all talking at the same time and waving their hands around and scratching."

"Anyone else in the house?" Diesel asked.

"Not that I could see."

"I need to get in the house, and bring Annie and Bernie out," Diesel said. "I don't want to go in like gangbusters and take a chance on someone getting hurt. I need a diversion."

Now I knew why I'd been invited along. "I guess that would be me," I said.

Diesel handed me the keys to the 'vette. "Do a damsel in distress routine. If you can draw them to the front of the house, we can go in the back."

I ran to the 'vette and took the wheel. I waited until there were no cars in sight, pulled around the Civic, and right-turned hard into Delvina's drive. The property wasn't gated, but the hedge had been carved into a topiary column on either side of the driveway entrance. I deliberately put the 'vette into a skid that took out Delvina's topiary column and positioned the car well into the yard. I fought the airbag and lurched out of the slightly bashed-in 'vette.

I pasted what I hoped was a dazed expression on my face and started up the driveway toward the house. I was halfway there when the door opened, and Delvina's driver looked out at me.

"What the hell was that?" he asked.

I did my best lower-lip tremble, and thought about sad things like roadkill and orphaned birthday cakes left at the bakery, and managed to sort of get a tear going down my cheek. Truth is, the tear was a challenge, but the trembling was easy. It was starting from my knees and working its way up all by itself. For the better part of my life I'd heard stories about Lou Delvina, and they all involved a lot of blood.

"I don't know what happened," I said. "All of a sudden the car went into a skid, and I h-h-hit the hedge."

Delvina appeared behind his driver, and my heart jumped into my throat.

"What the fuck happened to my hedge?" Delvina yelled.

"She skidded into it," his driver said.

"Sonovabitch. You know how hard it is to grow a hedge that size?"

"I'm really sorry," I said. "I must have hit some ice on the road."

Delvina was power-walking down his driveway, swinging his arms, head stuck forward. He was a sixty-year-old bandylegged fireplug with a lot of black hair and black caterpillar eyebrows. Hard to tell the normal color of his complexion as it was all red hives and white salve and looked to be purple under the salve.

"I don't fucking believe this," Delvina said. "Is there anything else that could friggin' go wrong? This whole week is caca."

Delvina marched past me and went straight to his hedge. "Oh jeez, just look at this," he said. "One of the plants is all broken. There's gonna be a big hole here until this grows."