A side table with an array of whips and riding crops told him he didn’t need his imagination.

Heinrich had always been a meat-and-potatoes man. This sort of stuff, while not offending him, left him baffled and somewhat amused.

It also distracted him for a crucial second.

A movement behind him. He spun and dodged just in time to avoid the sap hitting his head. Instead, the heavy leather pouch, filled with what felt like BBs, struck his forearm.

Just a glancing blow, but enough to send his gun flying. It clattered on the floor and slid under the nearest partition.

Heinrich’s boxing reactions kicked in. He threw a weak left jab intended more to back off the attacker than to hurt him. Then he backed off himself.

This worked on both counts. They ended up two paces apart.

Heinrich’s blow hadn’t even landed.

Red Bandanna still wore the cloth over his face, Wild-West-style. He wore a black wool cap over his hair, black jeans, and a black shirt. Medium height, athletic build, brown eyes.

“I guess you’re not one of Wanda’s customers, huh?” Heinrich said.

The man raised the sap over his head and lunged forward.

Heinrich feinted to the right, then dove to the left. Red Bandanna was fooled just long enough to hesitate, then swing at Heinrich and miss.

Heinrich grabbed the first thing he could on the table, then used his free hand to fling the table at his opponent, who dodged nimbly out of the way.

They circled. Heinrich discovered he had grabbed a riding crop.

“You may not be a customer,” he said, “but I’ll give you a good whipping if you don’t give up right now.”

Red Bandanna had no intention of giving up. He’d gotten more careful, though. Heinrich’s riding crop looked flimsy compared to the heavy leather sap, but Heinrich had the reach on him.

Heinrich proved it by springing forward, smacking Red Bandanna across the face, and darting back before the guy could counterattack.

Red Bandanna looked more pissed than hurt. He let out a roar and rushed Heinrich, who scurried behind the wooden X.

But it was a trick. As soon as Heinrich was out of reach, Red Bandanna turned on his heel and bolted for the front of the room.

Shit. Heinrich followed.

And fell into another trick. With impressive speed, Red Bandanna had made it to the front door. By the time Heinrich rounded the corner, the guy had picked up the heavy ceramic pot of a ficus plant by the door and heaved it at him.

Heinrich barely had time to dodge out of the way. As it was, a few leaves slapped him. At least the pot hadn’t busted his head open. That would have been an embarrassing death.

Red Bandanna bolted out the door. Heinrich went after him.

The intruder was in full flight mode now. No more tricks, just escape. He ran down the stairs as fast as he could, Heinrich half a flight behind him, still wielding the riding crop.

“I’m going to give you a good whipping, you motherfucker!” Heinrich said this as he rounded the corner onto the next landing and nearly bowled over a little old lady, her blue hair in curlers.

“I told you freaks to get out of this damn building!” she shrieked. “This time I’m calling the cops!”

“Please do,” Heinrich called over his shoulder as he ran down the next flight of stairs.

The sound of the front door opening told him that Red Bandanna was a good runner and had gained distance on him. Heinrich picked up speed, risking his neck by taking the stairs three at a time.

He got to the front hall just as Red Bandanna slammed the front door shut behind him.

Heinrich hurried over, took a second to use the peephole to make sure the guy wasn’t planning a nasty surprise, and wrenched the door open.

Too late. His caution with the peephole had given Red Bandanna even more of a lead. He was across the street and about to round the corner.

Heinrich cursed. The guy was faster than he was. No point in pursuit.

Strange that he had run, though.