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only me, with no Max in sight.
    I couldn’t afford Sam’s prices, but he assured me the first cut was free, that he’d make it up when I had to come back every two weeks. I knew I couldn’t afford to come back, but once I had wheels, I wouldn’t need to put on a show, so I didn’t worry about it.
    While Cora drove us to the used-car lot, I got my head in a little better working order. “Can you track government license plates?” I finally had the sense to ask.
    “Sure, those are easy if you’ve got someone on the inside, and we do. What you need?”
    “I want the guy who almost killed a couple of kids yesterday, crushed all their books and computers, then drove off.” I could think about kids and justice far more easily than I could think about balls of flame.
    “I heard about that. Be interesting to know which big dog is slumming in this part of town and why, but you know you can’t do nothing about it, don’t you?”
    She was probably right, but I needed action to take my mind off my hallucinations. “One step at a time,” I answered. “Let’s just see who it is, if we can figure it out from a partial.”
    Tina Clancy, girl detective. Worked for me.
    “Give me the make and model of the car and we can narrow it down.”
    “Big, black, shiny,” I replied, biting back a smile. For just a second, it almost felt normal to be bantering with a friend.
    She punched my arm and veered her beat-up Mini Cooper into a used-car lot.
    I wasn’t much for putting myself on display. I preferred my mousy camouflage so I could stay focused and get my work done. But Cora seemed to think I’d get a better deal if I strutted, so I did my shrimpy best. With only my rent money in my checking account and no collision insurance on the Escort, I couldn’t imagine affording more than a bicycle. Maybe I could sue Max’s estate and get his Harley.
    Where did that ugly, spiteful thought come from?
    “Hey, Joe, Andre says my girl here is good for athousand. What’ve you got for us?” Cora asked the portly, balding gentleman waddling from the glass-walled office.
    Andre said I was good for a thousand? Was he planning on docking my pay? I’d have to quit buying groceries, if so. Maybe I should give up school and find a real job. It wasn’t as if I would even be allowed to take the bar exam with my record. Would Schwartz look up my riot-inciting arrest and conclude I was violent enough to drive Max to murder? Even I was beginning to suspect me, and I didn’t have a suspicious mind.
    “Ain’t nothing here for that kind of money,” Joe protested. “Tell Andre not to be such a tightwad.”
    Oh, well, anything was better than thinking. “Ah, hon,” I purred, using the ubiquitous Baltimore endearment and tapping Joe’s arm as I passed by, “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
    Not wanting to owe my wicked boss any more than necessary, I sucked in my gut and stepped carefully, doing my best to swing my hips as I approached a shiny red Miata convertible. Miatas are made of plastic. To be on a car lot on the slummy side of town, this pretty toy was probably held together with duct tape and baling wire. Up close, I could see that the vinyl seats and the windshield had cracks. I wiggled behind the steering wheel, flashing a lot of leg. “Let me see what it does, hon.” I flashed him a sparkly smile, and he perked right up.
    As Joe hurried back for the key, Cora climbed inthe other side. “You’re evil, girl, you know that, don’t you?”
    Yeah, I was starting to get that impression.
    • • •
    I waved good-bye to Cora and drove away in the red Miata, feeling a grand poorer and a whole lot of stupider. I didn’t have Max to repair the rolling junk heap. I’d probably be up to my neck in repair bills and end up with a car on blocks while owing Legrande forever.
    But I needed to do something to swing my head back on straight, and it looked like being stupid was it. I breathed deeply for the first time since the