“Let’s see how Daddy’s little girl’s doing,” I said, and with the nine millimeter’s nose kissing Harry’s neck, I walked him to the door of the bedroom.

“Open it,” I said.

He did.

We went in, Harry first.

The girl was under the covers, holding the blankets and sheets up around her in a combination of illogical modesty and legitimate fear.

Her expression melted into confusion mingled with the beginnings of hope, when she saw me.

“Everything’s going to be all right, Miss Green,” I told her. “I’ve already taken care of the skinny one.” I nudged Harry with the gun in his neck. “You got a handcuff key?”

Harry swallowed and nodded.

“Uncuff her.”

My gun trained on him from nearby, Harry was complying as she asked, “Did…did my Daddy send you?”

I held out my hand to Harry and he dropped the cuff key in my palm.

“Fatso and me are taking a moonlight stroll,” I told her. “Meantime, you stay put. I’m going to get you back to your father.”

Her confusion didn’t leave, but she began to smile, wide, a kid Christmas morning, seeing her gifts. Her gift to me was dropping the blankets and sheets to her waist. The cute cupcake breasts had pierced nipples with rings, like beer cans waiting to be opened.

“Remember,” I said, and waggled a teacherly finger. “Stay right there.”

She swallowed and nodded and her eyes sparkled. Well, they did.

I walked my host out, pulling the bedroom door shut behind me.

“Where are her clothes, Harry?”

He nodded to a closet. Same one he’d gotten the plastic out of.

“Good,” I said. “Now let’s go for a walk. Just the three of us.”

Harry frowned in confusion, glanced back toward the bedroom. “Girl’s comin’?”

“No. Louis. Better give him a hand.”

Now Harry got it.

He leaned down and hefted his partner in the plastic shroud and held the crinkly corpse in his arms like a B-movie monster carrying a starlet. The plastic was spattered with blood, but only on the inside; you could sort of see what was left of Louis’s head trying to look out. Harry seemed like he was going to cry again.