“Ten years ago. In the beginning, I visited. He was doped up with Thorazine twenty-four/seven. He couldn’t even talk, much less carry on a conversation. Then he began to get these weirdo tics and started drooling.” O’Dell shuddered. “I stopped going. It wasn’t very big of me, but he sure as bloody hell wasn’t the Mudd that I remembered. That Mudd was disappearing—bit by bit by bit by bit.”

“It’s hard to watch someone you care about deteriorate.”

“Bloody painful. I’d visit and then I’d be depressed for days. Me girl said to give it a rest and once I did, I never went back.”

“Like you said, he probably wouldn’t have known the difference, anyway.”

O’Dell seemed grateful for the reprieve. The food came, and Decker watched him chow down in silence. Halfway through his veggie curry, he said, “About a year, year and a half ago, his mum called me out of nowhere. Mudd was out of the hospital, living in a halfway house on disability. She told me where. She didn’t say go visit him, but that’s what she wanted. So…I went to see him.”

“How was it?”

“Not nearly as bad as I expected. Mudd was always a big guy, but he had gained about two hundred pounds. His brain wasn’t totally scrambled. He recognized me instantly…hugged me.” O’Dell’s eyes watered. “He was so bloody happy that I came by to say hi.”

“You did a good thing.”

“I did what was right. Which brings us back to Banks. About six months before my visit, Rudy started peddling his Best of the Doodoo Sluts over these sleazy cable stations. When Primo first mentioned that we should sue, I thought what the fuck do I need it for? But then, after I saw Mudd, I said to meself: I don’t need it, but balls if I would let Rudy steal Mudd’s money. So I called up Primo and that’s how it all came about.”

His jaw tightened. “If Banks would have given us something, if he would have given Mudd something, all this lawyer nonsense could have been avoided. But Rudy is Rudy and a skunk can’t change his stink. If I could kill that bastard and get away with it, I would.”

“Let’s hope for your sake, he doesn’t show up dead.”

O’Dell rolled his eyes. “How’s your food?”

“Very good actually,” Decker said. “Where’s Mudd living now?”

“Still at the halfway house.” O’Dell gave him the address. “If you go by, tell him Mad Irish says hello.”

“I’ll do that.” Decker placed the slip of paper in his wallet. “How’d you wind up hooking up with Banks, Liam?”