Satan’s Lambs by Lynn Hightower Read Free Book Online Page B

want to hear it,” Mendez said.
    â€œIt’s at the house.”
    â€œLet’s eat first.” He looked at her. “Can I take you to dinner?”
    Lena looked at him, thinking the hand on the shoulder might be going to his head. “You like barbecue?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI’ll take you. There’s a place still owes me free dinners.”
    Mendez turned toward the car, but Lena grabbed his arm. She pointed to Whitney’s headstone.
    â€œWhat does that mean? ‘L-i-v-e’?”
    â€œNot ‘live.’ Read it backwards.”
    â€œBackwards? E-v … evil?”
    He nodded.
    She studied the letters on the grass. “S-i-h. His.”
    Mendez stood beside her. “His Satanic Majesty.”
    â€œYou’re good at reading backwards, Joel.” A raindrop spattered her shoulder, making a dark spot on the red material. “He’s really gearing up again, isn’t he?”
    Mendez took her arm and pointed her toward the car. “We’ll talk about it after we eat.”
    The custodian was glad to see them go. The rain came down as they turned from the blacktop drive onto Fourth Street. Fat raindrops smacked the pavement and beat against the car, and the wind rocked the Mazda to the left. The windshield wipers slashed back and forth, but visibility was negligible. The windows fogged and Mendez turned the defroster on full blast. They forded a deep puddle, the sides of the car cutting into the water with a coarse, grating sound. A Chevy pickup passed in the left lane, throwing muddy splats of water onto the windshield.
    Mendez glanced at Lena.
    Probably checking to see if my seat belt’s on, she thought.
    Deke’s Piggy Palace was on North Lime. By the time they found a parking place, three blocks away, the rain had eased.
    It was good to leave the flow of traffic. The sidewalks were wet and muddy, cracked and ill-kept. The glassed-in storefronts were cloudy with condensation.
    The restaurant was almost empty. A green sign that said Piggy Palace was nailed over the doorway. The front window had been coated with black paint. Tired yellow light glinted through the cracks. The door was propped open with a chipped concrete block, and a swatch of warped brown linoleum lay across the entrance like a welcome mat.
    A tired-looking waitress sighed when they walked in. Lena guided Mendez to a booth upholstered in blood-red vinyl. There was a rip across the back that had been repaired with masking tape.
    Mendez sat across from Lena. He took off his suit coat and folded it neatly, laying it on the seat beside him.
    â€œNice place.”
    Lena grinned. “Honest, Mendez. The food’s fantastic.”
    â€œWhich client?”
    â€œWhich client? Oh, the one got me the free dinners? The owner’s sister. Her daughter was involved in one of those relationships, you know. One of those guys who are pathological liars that young girls can’t seem to resist.”
    The waitress brought them two dog-eared paper menus.
    â€œOwen here?” Lena asked.
    The waitress narrowed her eyes. “In back.”
    â€œTell him Lena’s out front, okay? And bring us two beers and two orders of fried banana peppers.” Lena glanced at Mendez. “You drink Coronas?”
    He nodded.
    â€œGood,” Lena said. “Don’t cut the lime so big it won’t go down in the bottle.”
    The corner of Mendez’s mouth lifted in a half smile. “I’m almost afraid to ask how you handled the boyfriend. Don’t incriminate yourself.”
    â€œI rustled up a substitute. Boy who’s the son of a woman I know. Nice kid, good-looking, rides a Suzuki. Girls that age are usually impressed with the bike.”
    â€œIt didn’t work?” Mendez said.
    Lena shook her head. “The pathological liar creep was older, and this kid was really hooked on him.”
    â€œLike an addiction.”
    â€œYeah, exactly like