The side of my face was on fire and I felt blood running down my chin. The gun slid along my scalp again, this time ending up at the very back of my head.

"The cops are on their way," I said. "They know I'd tracked you down. Do you really want another murder on your sheet?"

I was throwing out marshmallows here, I know. But I was scared to death of dying. I needed to somehow convince him that not killing me was the right way to go.

"It don't f.u.c.kin' matter now," Gra.s.so said. He shifted and I sensed that he was moving the gun to his left hand, which begged the question, what did he need his right hand for?

"Come on, let's go!" the woman called from the kitchen.

"Shut up!" Gra.s.so yelled into my ear. And then I felt something so hideous I froze.

With his free hand, Gra.s.so tried to pull down my pants.

"Mr. Nosy b.i.t.c.h following me around, chasing me, just who the f.u.c.k do you think you are?"

"I-"

"Shut up, punk!"

"You've got to be kidding me!" the woman in the kitchen called.

"Nothin' better than a virgin punk a.s.s," Gra.s.so said and as he yanked on my pants I grabbed one of his fingers and bent it back until I felt the bone break, which it did with a sickening little crunch.

Gra.s.so screamed in my ear and then he curled his leg around mine and pushed me forward. He pinned my arms so that I smashed face first into the hardwood floor. I felt something give in my face and a searing pain ricocheted around inside my skull. Blood was in my mouth.

I felt air on my skin and knew with a panic that it was my a.s.s. Gra.s.so had my pants down.

"f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h," he breathed into my ear. His breath was hot and fast. I didn't know if it still smelled like wine, I figured my nose was broken.

I heard the sound of Gra.s.so's zipper, then the rustle of fabric as he lifted his shirt to pull down his pants.

A sound came from the front of the house that had a tinny quality to it. It sounded suspiciously similar to a police siren. We all heard it at the same time and the woman in the kitchen said, "s.h.i.t!"

"Motherf.u.c.ker!" Gra.s.so said. Doors slammed outside and heavy footsteps pounded up the front walk. I heard a lot of shouting but everything seemed fuzzy and out of focus. I tried to move, tried to roll, but nothing happened. I had a funny tingling sensation down my spine.

"You f.u.c.k," the woman said.

I heard Gra.s.so run to the front door and shout.

"s.h.i.t," the woman said, but her voice was further away now. Had she left?

"Just let me-" Gra.s.so started to say and then there was a loud crashing sound followed by two shots close together. Boom-boom.

Gra.s.so garbled something and I heard him drop to the floor just as the walls around me exploded and the gun boomed. A cacophony of sounds greeted my ears. More crashes, shouts, tires screeching, the back door slamming shut, more heavy footsteps.

I rolled as best I could. A stabbing pain raced up my left leg and then the back door banged open.

A newer tinny sound from the front porch was going strong. A cop's radio. There were running footsteps as I tried to get my bearings and then someone behind me said, "Freeze." What a stupid thing to say, I thought.

I desperately wanted to pull my pants up but at this point, it wasn't worth the risk. Besides, the cops had arrived, probably because a neighbor had seen my dramatic entrance. Compared to the fear of being raped and killed, having a Grosse Pointe cop see my bare f.a.n.n.y was no big deal.

I lay still, my heart beating, the pain in my body building to a crescendo.

And then I heard a voice.

"Not one of your finer moments," my sister said.

Thirty-four.

Later, we were standing outside the house on Barrington. I'd given my official statement, been given a quick once-over by the paramedics, and was now ready to receive the wrath of my sibling. Ellen pointed at my leg, which had gotten a basic bandage from Grosse Pointe's finest emergency medical response team. It was a giant Band-Aid.

"So were you shot?" she said.

I shook my head. "It was a sliver from the floor."

"A sliver," she said.

I could tell she was on the verge of either laughing at me or slapping me silly.

"Yeah, it was a sliver," I said. "A big one."

"Only you could be in the middle of a shooting and come out of it with a sliver."

"A big sliver."

"Whatever," she said.

Gra.s.so had already been bagged and tagged. The crime scene technicians were done and gone. Ellen turned to me. "So why don't you tell me how you ended up presenting your a.s.s to Gra.s.so."

"It was some fine detective work, if I say so myself," I said.

"Luring an ex-con with your sweet b.u.t.t? Isn't that entrapment?"

"Very funny," I said.

"You know, sodomy is illegal in Michigan. I should take you in."

"Nothing happened."

"Not what I hear," she said. "I heard you were caught in flagrante delicto. At least, that's what the boys down at the station are probably saying."

"Would you please shut up?"

"Mom would roll in her grave if she knew you were sleeping with an ex-con," she continued.

"Okay, that's enough."

"Why don't you just tell me what happened," she said.

I filled her in on my questioning the dancer at the Lucky Strike. How one thing had led to another and I'd found myself on Barrington.

I also told her about the woman in the kitchen.

"Never got a look at her?" Ellen asked me.

"Nope."

"Would you recognize her voice?"

"Maybe."

Ellen thought about that for a moment. "The house is clean. Nothing to tie Gra.s.so to anything, from what we could find so far."

"So what were they doing here?"

She shrugged.

"Well at least we know now that Gra.s.so wasn't working alone and that Jesse Barre's murder wasn't just an ordinary robbery gone wrong."

"Don't jump to any conclusions."

"Oh, come on Ellen. You're not going to pin this all on Gra.s.so, are you?"

"Why don't you let us do our jobs before you start telling me what I'm doing wrong?"

"Okay," I said. "Fair enough."

Ellen looked me over. "Does your wife know what happened?"

"Not yet."

"Why don't you go home and tell her all about it. Stay out of the investigation for a little while."

It was at times like this that I could really tell she was p.i.s.sed. Apparently I'd overstepped my bounds again. Well, G.o.dd.a.m.nit, I can't help it if every cave I stick my nose in has a bear inside.

I left the scene of the crime, as it was. And went home to tell my wife that I'd been shot at again.

I hoped it wouldn't ruin dinner.

Thirty-five.

Ellen called me at my office the next morning.

"I want you to come and look at something," she said.

"What, is your toilet running again?"

"Like you'd have a f.u.c.king clue how to fix it," she said. "I want to get your take on some stuff we found out about Gra.s.so. I have no idea why, but I do."

"I thought you said you wanted me to stay out of the investigation," I said. "I got the definite feeling you'd tired of your favorite sibling."

"You're my only sibling."

"The two have nothing to do with each other."

I listened to Ellen sigh on the other end of the line. It was always fun to know I'd irritated her slightly. Besides, I couldn't just let her get away with telling me one day to f.u.c.k off and then the next day welcoming me back. I was getting whiplash from the sudden changes of direction.

"As much as I would like to keep our work separate, the fact is, Grosse Pointe's a small town," she said.

"Especially for an ego like yours," I said.

"Shut up John."

I complied.

"What I mean is, a small town means that we're bound to cross paths once in awhile," she said. "Considering that we work in similar fields."

"Lucky you."

"Besides, you've done some good work on this case, chasing down Gra.s.so and making some connections."

"Was that a compliment? You gotta be kiddin' me," I said. "Who is this? Am I on Candid Camera? Where's Alan Funt?"

"G.o.d, do you ever shut your piehole, John?"

"Occasionally," I said. "Usually during the holidays."

"Call it professional courtesy, but I thought you might like the opportunity to see what we've found," she said. "Say no and I'll never be nice to you again."

"When did you start?"

"This is the sound of the phone being placed near the cradle," she said. I actually heard her voice getting softer.