There was a small explosion inside the store, the black sedan laid down rubber and sped away, and then there was a large explosion. BAROOOM. The front windows to Black’s blew out, and bits and pieces of comic books floated in the air like giant dust motes. Fire licked out the open windows and black smoke billowed into the street and was swept skyward.
My initial reaction was shocked paralysis. I stood rooted to the spot, mouth open, eyes wide. When my heart resumed beating I thought about the people who might be trapped inside. No hope for Uncle Black, but there were two floors above him.
“What’s on the second and third floor?” I asked Mooner.
“Storage. I was up there once. It’s like where comic books go to sleep.”
People were gathering in the street, keeping a good distance from the fire. There was a third explosion, and flames shot out the door and ignited the Shelby. The car alarm went off, a fireball rose around the car, and the car exploded. Everyone backed up.
“Dude,” Mooner said.
I felt my cell phone buzz, and I looked at the screen. Ranger.
“Your GPS just went blank,” Ranger said when I answered.
“The car exploded.”
There was a beat of silence. “Rafael won the pool,” Ranger said. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll send someone.”
Two cop cars and a fire truck rolled down Stark. A second fire truck rumbled in. Firemen went to work, and Mooner and I stood for a few minutes, watching the Shelby burn out.
“I’m guessing Uncle Black didn’t make his protection payment on time,” I said to Mooner.
“Comic book people are fearless,” Mooner said.
I saw two Rangeman vehicles stop half a block away. They couldn’t get closer. I waved, and we walked the distance.
Hal was on the sidewalk, waiting with the key to a gleaming new black Ford Escort. “I hope this is okay,” he said. “Ranger said to take one from the fleet.”
“This is perfect. Thank you. Sorry you didn’t win the pool.”
Hal grinned. “I was twelve hours off. I didn’t think the Shelby would last this long.” He opened the door to the Escort for me. “You’re not going to believe this, but I swear a rooster ran across the road right in front of us when we were coming down Stark.”
I blew out a sigh, got into the Escort, and drove to the bonds bus. Lula was doing nail polish repair when I walked in. She was wearing a lemon yellow spandex dress and four-inch black platform heels, and her hair was a big puffball of neon green.
“Is that your real hair?” I asked her.
“No way. This here’s a wig. We had to do surgery on some of my hair since the chicken from hell got into it. Was that another new car you just drove up in? What happened to the Shelby?”
“Exploded.”
“Shit happens,” Lula said.
“That would lead me to believe it didn’t go well with Uncle Black,” Connie said.
“Also exploded,” I told her.
“It was a tragedy,” Mooner said. “They blew up a Creeper comic in primo condition, man. Someone should pay.”
“People will be scared after this,” Connie said. “No one’s going to be talking on Stark Street.”
“What’s all down the front of you?” Lula asked me.
“Chocolate ice cream. Mooner lost his mellow over the Creeper demise, so we stopped for ice cream to calm him down.” I glanced at my shirt. “I needed calming down, too.”
My phone buzzed and my parents’ number popped up. No way was I talking to my mother. She’d ferret the car explosion out of me, and she’d want to talk about Dave, and God help me if she found out about the chickens. I’d need more ice cream.
“I’m going home,” I said to Connie. “I need a new shirt.”
The good thing about always wrecking cars, is that at least for a while no one knew what I was driving. I parked in my lot and thought chances were good I wouldn’t find a dead body in the Escort when I returned. I let myself into my apartment, went straight to the bedroom, flopped onto the bed, and covered my head with a pillow.
I woke up to a phone ringing.
“I’ve been calling and calling,” my mother said. “Where were you that you couldn’t answer?”
“It was in my bag. I didn’t hear it.”
“Well thank goodness I finally got you. Everyone will be here in fifteen minutes.”
“Everyone?”
“The dinner party. I told you about it days ago. Emma and Herb Brewer and Dave. Emma said everyone was very excited to get the invitation.”
“Not everyone,” I said. “I’m not excited. I’m horrified. I’m not interested in Dave, and I don’t want to have dinner with his parents.”