15Uncle Homer was sitting by the fireplace, lost in thought. He was still in his silk tiger-print pajamas. Heilke was on the sofa in her slip, sliding a stocking on to her right leg. A dead black man laid on the floor. His trousers were round his ankles and there were two gunshot wounds in his back.
Dozen pushed his way through everyone. He walked around the room, surveying the situation. Dozen threw his hands up in the air. “What the hell happened? Why is Delmont dead?”
Without looking at Dozen, Uncle Homer said: “Babycakes was fuckin' this guy.”
“And?” Dozen said sarcastically. “She f***s a lot of your guys, boss! It's what she does! You know this, you approve.”
“Naw, Dozen,” Uncle Homer shook his head slowly. “This is different.”
“Well? Explain,” Dozen said, placed his hands on his
