Status Updates From Fallout (V.I. Warshawski, #18)

really rolling now

“That felt good!” She picked up a can of Sprite, handed me a Coke, and started a little victory dance in front of the vending machine. I high-fived her and handed her two of the antibiotic tablets to swallow. I gave a hysterical laugh, thinking we were like Peter Sellers in Dr. Strangelove, shooting out the Coke machine to get coins for a phone call: now we had to answer to the Coca-Cola Company.

VI is tased one more time! Second book in a row. It’s getting to be a habit! I wonder if the publication of the book corresponds to the time when tasers came into reality?

“Vic, I know you. I know you argue only to get your own way. I am with Cady. We can look after each other without a big sister on top of us.” She cut the connection. I called back but got voice mail. I tried Cady, but she didn’t answer either.

“If anything happens to me, will you call this number in Chicago?” I handed her a note. “Dr. Lotty Herschel will organize someone to come down to collect Peppy, and she’ll also take care of . . . well, anything that needs taking care of.” “You really are expecting trouble?” she asked.

I wrote Aanya’s name in black Magic Marker on a paper bag, stuck the box with the DNA sample in it, and borrowed some electrical tape from behind the bar to seal it shut. Simone tucked the bag in a drawer filled with miscellany—lost glasses and phones, her own shoulder bag, a box of candles. “You ever going to tell me what this is all about?”