Elvis Loomis was one hundred percent sober this time. And a sober Elvis was not a friendly Elvis. He greeted their knock by opening an upstairs window and pouring out a can of beer. They jumped back to avoid getting doused.
Sarg called up to him, “Looks like you drank something that didn’t agree with you. Good thing you weren’t trying to assault a federal officer. ’Cause that’d get you a couple years at FCI in Petersburg.”
A few moments later, Elvis opened the door and headed up the stairs without a word.
Sarg said, “Yay. We’re invited to the party,” and they followed Elvis up, tiptoeing around cans and papers on the floor of the loft.
Sarg parked himself on the edge of a table across from the wobbly lounger where Elvis took refuge. Drayco went on the prowl as he liked to do, looking f
