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sex?”
    “We don’t
all
have sex there,” Hooker said.
    “Is there someone back there now?” Rosa asked. “Someone famous?”
    “No,” Hooker said. “No one’s back there.”
    “Your mouth is crooked,” Rosa said. “Your mouth always gets that little crook in it when you tell a fib. Who’s back there? It’s not a movie star, is it? I’m not giving up until I find out.”
    There was a loud
woof
and then a
thud
from inside the hauler. We all turned and looked and saw that Beans had gone into the hauler through the side door and was trying to get Oscar Huevo to play. He’d managed to knock Huevo over, and now he was jumping on him, making growly dog sounds. Huevo didn’t move or squeak, so Beans straddled him and sunk his teeth into what I suspected was Huevo’s shoulder.
    “Holy crap!” Hooker said.
    He threw a biscuit at Beans, and Beans snapped it up in midair. The next biscuit fell short, and Beans had to jump over Huevo to get it.
    I ran to the SUV and opened the back hatch. “Get him to jump in,” I yelled to Hooker. “Throw some biscuits in here.”
    Hooker whistled and tossed the biscuits, and Beans galloped across the floor and sailed into the SUV. I slammed the hatch closed and leaned against the car, my hand over my heart.
    “What is that?” Felicia wanted to know, looking into the hauler. “It looks like a big bag of chicken parts. No wonder the doggie wanted to chew it. What are you doing with chicken parts? Are you having a barbecue party?” She elbowed Hooker out of her way and stepped into the hauler. “It smells funny in here,” she said, bending for a closer look. “I think these chicken parts are rotten.” She suddenly straightened and made the sign of the cross. “This isn’t chicken parts.”
    Hooker blew out a sigh. “It’s a dead guy.”
    “Holy mother,” Rosa said. “What are you doing with a dead guy?”
    I gave Rosa and Felicia an abbreviated version of the last six hours. Felicia made the sign of the cross at least ten times, and Rosa listened with her mouth open and her eyes half popped out of her head.
    “I gotta see this,” Rosa said when I was done. “I gotta see the dead guy.”
    We all returned to the hauler and gaped at Huevo.
    “He doesn’t look real,” Rosa said. “He looks like one of those wax people. Like he was made for a horror movie.”
    Especially now that he had big tooth marks in his shoulder.
    “What are you going to do with him?” Rosa wanted to know.
    Hooker and I looked at each other, sharing the same thought. We now had a dead man with holes in him that perfectly fit Beans’s canines. We couldn’t just put Huevo back in the locker like Gobbles had suggested. Sooner or later it would occur to people that there’s only one dog on the circuit with teeth that big…and Hooker would be dragged into the murder mess. Even without that, I couldn’t put Huevo back in the locker. It felt disrespectful to dismiss him that easily.
    “I think he looks like fish food,” Rosa said.
    Felicia did another sign of the cross. “You better hope God wasn’t listening to that. Suppose this man is Catholic? It would be our fault he doesn’t get a prayer over his body. It would be a black mark on our soul.”
    Rosa cut her eyes to me. “Can’t afford to get too many more of those.”
    “Yeah,” Hooker said. “I’m standing in a hot hauler, staring down at a Mexican with a hole in his head. Wouldn’t want to push my luck by pissing God off.”
    “We should take him to his relatives,” Felicia said. “It’s what God would want.”
    “His relatives are in Mexico,” I said. “What would God’s second choice be?”
    “He must have somebody here,” Felicia said. “He wouldn’t be traveling alone. Where is he staying?”
    We all shrugged. It wasn’t as if we could go through his pockets and find a matchbook.
    “Not in a motor coach,” Hooker said. “Probably in one of the big hotels on Brickell Avenue.”
    “We need to put him