One

"Some asshole kidnapped my snake."

"That sounds like a hell of a case."

"I'm serious, man."

"So am I."

"You don't believe me?"

"Not really, no."

"I thought you would. That's why I came to you."

"Just so I'm clear, by 'kidnapped' you mean someone actually stole your pet snake?"

"Yes. And her name is Ginger."

"The snake or the kidnapper?"

"The snake."

"Are you sure Ginger didn't, like, slither off somewhere?"

"I'm sure."

"Seriously, who put you up to this?"

"I can't believe you think this is a joke."

"It was my cousin, wasn't it?"

"You know what? Forget it."

I took another sip of my banana milkshake and glanced around the Dairy Queen in search of an accomplice. "You're videotaping this, right? Declan wouldn't go to all this trouble and not get this on camera."

Johnny slammed his fist down on the table. "Damn it, Jed! I'm not screwing around here!"

"All right, take it easy. I believe you."

"About goddamn time."

"You have to admit, it's not the easiest sell. I'm also not sure which is more disturbing -- the fact that someone went to the trouble of kidnapping your pet snake or that you actually named a reptile after a Spice Girl."

My old friend smirked despite himself. "You're an even bigger smart-ass than I remember."

"Fair enough. Now why don't you take me through this thing from the top?"

Johnny plucked a crinkled photo out of his wallet and handed it to me. In the picture he was leaning against the turnbuckle of a professional wrestling ring with a yellow python with brown patches draped over his shoulders. "That's my baby," he said.

"I can see the resemblance."

"Eh?"

I pointed at the tattoo of a yellowish-brown python spiraling around one of his sinewy forearms.

"Oh, yeah. I got inked for Ginger's birthday a few months back. I've had her for three years now, Jed. I make my entrances with her around my neck and keep her ringside during my matches and everything. I can't wrestle without her."

"Any idea why someone would want to take your snake?" I asked, handing back the photo.

"Christ, I don't know. You're the private investigator."

"I'm a bouncer, Johnny. Not a PI."

"That's not what I've heard."

"My old man is the one with the licence. I just help him with some of the leg work from time to time."

"So do some leg work for me now and help me get Ginger back. You should have seen the cops this morning, man. They laughed at me while I filled out the theft report."

"I'm sorry, bub," I replied earnestly. "I can't help you."

Johnny gripped my forearm as I stood.

"Baton Rouge, man."

My heart skipped a beat. "That was a long time ago."

"You owe me."

"You sure you want to play this card?"

"I am. I got nowhere else to go."