16 Sizzling Sixteen (5 page)

Connie and Vinnie were the only ones authorized to write the bonds that released people from jail while they waited for their day in court. I worked as the office bounty hunter, and I signed individual contracts that gave me permission to root out felons who were FTA for their court date. Lula wasnt authorized to do anything, so she just did whatever the heck she wanted.

Connie took off for the courthouse, and Lula and I piled into the Jeep. Stella McCurdle lived in north Trenton. Ernie Wilkes and his wife lived a couple blocks from Stella. Good deal for me. I was short of gas money and not excited about the idea of driving all over creation to find McCuddle. I took Olden to Bright Street and turned onto Cherry. I parked in front of Stellas house, and Lula and I got out and went to the door.

Now this heres more what Im talking about, Lula said. This looks like a bigamist house.

It was a narrow, two-story single-family house. And it was painted lavender with pink trim. Why Lula imagined a bigamist should live in a lavender house was anyones guess.

Yep, I said. This looks like a bigamist house for sure.

I got high hopes for this wife, Lula said.

Stella McCurdle answered the door in tight lavender stretch pants, little sling-back heels, and a stretchy flower-print wrap shirt that displayed a decent amount of over-tanned, crepe paperskinned boob. She had big chunky rings on her fingers and big chunky earrings, lots of make up, and her hair was a shade short of canary yellow, done up in a seventies bouffant.

Whoa, Lula said. Its like Soul Train for seniors. Stella leaned forward. What was that, dear? My hearings on the blink. Im all clogged up with wax. I was just on my way to the doctor.

Im looking for your husband, I said to Stella.

What?

Your husband.

No, thank you, she said. I dont need any.

Must be a lot of wax, Lula said.

Dirk! I yelled. Wheres Dirk?

Dirk! Dont know. Dont care, she said. Im moving on. Im gonna find myself a new boy toy. Dirk was too old for me anyway.

Thats the spirit, Lula said.

What? Stella yelled. What did you say?

Lula and I screamed good-bye to Stella, we got back into the car, and I drove to Ernies house. I didnt think Dirk was living with Ernie, but I thought Ernie might be talking to him.

What time is it? Lula asked. I might need a doughnut. Is it doughnut time?

Whats that about?

I dont know. It just came over me.

Its a bad idea. What do I look like, Mr. Green Jeans? How would it sound if I said its vegetable time? People would think I was a nut. Nobody gets a craving for a vegetable. And Im on the one diet. What am I gonna do with one carrot or one asparagus? Theyre not mood enhancers, if you see what Im saying.

I see what youre saying, but there arent any doughnuts between here and Ernies house.

I guess I could wait. And maybe youre right about the healthy eating. Im gonna get a carrot cake doughnut.

I drove a block, pulled over, and called Ernie. I had a feeling hed be more helpful if I got him away from his wife. My guess was his wife wouldnt be happy to learn he was still palling around with Dirk the bigamist.

Ernie answered and I introduced myself.

Is your wife home? I asked him.

Yes, he said.

Would she be upset if she knew you were still friends with Dirk McCurdle?

Whats this about?

I can knock on your door and talk to you in front of your wife, or we can meet somewhere for just a couple minutes. I need to find Dirk.

Okay.

Just go out in your car or go for a walk, and Ill follow you.

Okay.

And he hung up.

Five minutes later, a car pulled out of the Wilkeses driveway and headed for Olden. The car pulled to the curb after three blocks and Ernie Wilkes got out.

I dont know anything about Dirk McCurdle, Ernie said to Lula and me. We used to be friends, but I dont see him anymore.

When was the last time you talked to him? I asked.

Try again, I told him.

Ernie blew out a sigh. A couple days ago. Hes got a new wife. At least, he says shes a wife.

Do you know her name? Do you know where she lives?

Her names Dolly. I dont know her last name. He said they met at the Senior Center on Greenwood. And he said she has a house close by there.

Does Dirk have his own place?

Ernie shook his head. Not that I know about. Hes always lived in his wives houses. I tell you, hes a real character.

I thanked Ernie, gave him my card, and Lula and I took Olden to Greenwood.

Hold up here, Lula said. Theres a bakery on the right, and I bet theyve got healthy doughnuts. Like maybe they got a whole wheat and green bean cruller.

SIX

I PULLED INTO the small lot and waited while Lula ran in. I had my window down, and I was in a zone, staring into the bakery, not thinking. My skin prickled at the nape of my neck and a rush of heat fluttered through my stomach. I caught a hint of Bulgari Green shower gel and knew the reason for the heat. Ranger.

He bent to talk to me through the open window. Theres a problem in the Atlanta office, he said. Im on my way to the airport. I should be back sometime tomorrow. In the meantime, call Tank if you need help. Ive asked Chet to report Gritchs travels directly to you.

Tank was Rangers next in command. He was the guy who watched Rangers back. His name said it all.

Thanks, I said. Be careful.

Ranger smiled at that. Hard to tell if he was smiling because someone cared enough to say be careful, or if he thought the idea was funny.

Minutes after Ranger left, Lula hauled herself up into the Jeep. The best I could do was blueberry, Lula said. They didnt have no vegetable doughnuts. And I got a strawberry jelly-filled, and a pumpkin spice, and a banana scone. Wait a minute. Is pumpkin a vegetable? Does that count?

You must have eight hundred calories in that bag.

Yeah, but the diet says I can have one of anything.

One doughnut! Not one of each kind.

You dont know that for sure, Lula said.

No. I gained a couple, but I think its water retention.

THE SENIOR CENTER is in a big old house that was remodeled to accommodate bingo. It runs night and day and it smells like crackers. Ive learned from past experience that its best to park on the far perimeter of the lot. At least half the seniors who come for pinochle or bingo are legally blind from macular degeneration, and they park by feeling their way along with their bumpers.

I left Lula in the Jeep with the doughnuts, and I crossed the lot and went straight to the admin office just inside the Centers front door. An older woman in a turquoise smock was at the desk. She looked up at me and smiled.

Yes, dear, she said. How can I help you?

Im looking for my grandmothers friend, Dolly.

You must mean Dolly Molinski. She isnt here right now. In fact, I havent seen her for some time.

Do you know where she lives? Do you have a phone number?

No, Im afraid not. We dont keep any of that information. I know she lives close, because she would walk to bingo when the weather was nice.

I returned to the Jeep and called Connie. Dolly Molinski, I said. Can you get me an address?

A couple minutes later, Connie came back on the line. Shes on Stanley Street. Number 401 Stanley.

I dont know Stanley, I said to her. Im at the Senior Center. Can you give me directions?

Shes two blocks away. Take Applegate to Stanley.

I drove two blocks down Applegate, turned at Stanley, and parked in front of 401. It was a tidy little white house with a postage-stamp front lawn presided over by a three-foot-tall ceramic gnome. Lula and I marched up to the front door, and I knocked. The door opened and a lady not much taller than the gnome looked out at me. She had short snow-white hair, a pleasant round face, and she was wearing shocking-pink yoga pants and a matching short-sleeved T-shirt.

Yes? she asked.

Im looking for Dirk McCurdle, I told her. Is he here?

Yes, she said, but hes sleeping. Honestly, I dont know how that man can sleep like he does. Ive already gone to my tai chi class, put a stew in the slow cooker, and fed the cats.

Its important that I talk to him. Could you wake him?

I can try, but hes a very sound sleeper.

She sped off, and Lula and I stepped into the living room. It was filled with overstuffed furniture and cats. There was an orange cat on the couch, a striped cat next to the orange cat, a black cat draped over a chair back, and a second tabby cat sprawled on the floor.

Dolly hustled back into the room. Hes still sleeping, she said. Maybe you can come back some other day.

Dirk! I yelled. Bond enforcement. I need to talk to you.

Nothing.

Are you sure hes here? I asked Dolly.

Of course hes here. Its Tuesday. I dont mean to be rude, but Im real busy. Im behind schedule. Ive got kitty litters to clean, I gotta get the car in for service, and Im meeting the girls for lunch.

Do you mind if I take a look for myself? I asked her.

No. Go right ahead. Id get him up for you, but I havent got the time. Hes a wonderful man. He can play bingo with the best of them, but hes slow as molasses in the morning. Bedrooms in the back.

I moved past Dolly to the back of the house and the master bedroom, pushing cats out of my way as I walked. I could see Lula from the corner of my eye, shooing cats away, holding her nose.

Lula and I inched into the room and looked at Dirk.

Uh-oh, Lula said.

I bit into my lower lip. How long has Dirk been sleeping like this? I yelled to Dolly.

Since last night. He went to bed early. Said he had indigestion.

I hauled my cell phone out of my bag and called 911. We need an officer at 401 Stanley Street, I said. And an EMT truck, hold the siren.

Is there something wrong? Dolly asked.

Im really sorry, but Im pretty sure Dirks dead, I told her.

Dolly took a close look at him and poked him. Yep, hes dead all right. Damn. This is the third husband thats died on me in the past year. Ive got to start marrying younger men. Good thing I didnt take his name. The red tape is awful. She smoothed a wisp of hair down on McCurdles head. He was fun, she said. Ill miss him on Mondays and Tuesdays.

Lula sneezed. Damn cats. I gotta get out of here. Im allergic to just about everything in this house . . . Cats and dead people, and pretty soon its gonna be filled with cops.

Dolly looked at her watch. I should probably cancel my service appointment.

You might want to do that, Lula said. But if we hurry things along, you could make lunch.

Guess youre getting good at this, Lula said.

The husband before Dirk died five months ago, he should rest in peace. And before that was George.

We all meandered out of the house and stood blinking in the late morning sun.

A cop car angled to a stop behind my Jeep and Carl Costanza and Big Dog got out. Carl and I did Communion together, and he was friends with Morelli.

Carl looked at me and smiled. I bet this is going to be good, he said.

I have a dead FTA in there, I told him.

Did you kill him?

No. Looks to me like natural causes, but what do I know. Dolly said he just never woke up.

Carl pulled on rubber gloves.

Gonna need more than that in there, Lula said. Theres cats. And she sneezed and farted. Scuse me, she said.

An EMT truck turned the corner and Big Dog flagged it down.

Ill stop at the station later today for my paperwork, I said to Carl.

Dont rush. I have to get mine done first.

Im sorry for your loss, I said to Dolly.

Thank you, she said. It was nice meeting you.

Lula and I got into the Jeep, and I found my way back to Greenwood.

That was a downer, I said to Lula.

Yeah, she said. It was anti climactic after waiting all this time to see the bigamist.

I cant figure out if Im more depressed that Dirk died or that Dolly didnt know he was dead.

He did look like he died smiling.

See, its all part of the circle of life, Lula said. And pretty soon, well be dead, too, only youll go first because youre older than me.

Do you have any doughnuts left? I need a doughnut.

I ate them all, but we can stop at the bakery again. They had some red velvet cupcakes that Im pretty sure were made with beet juice. Either that or red dye #13.

I hooked a left into the bakery lot and bought myself a doughnut with white icing and colorful sprinkles. This is a happy doughnut, I said to Lula.

Fuckin A, Lula said. But then I never saw a sad doughnut.

I ate my doughnut and felt much better, so I drove down Greenwood to Hamilton, past the office, and on to the government buildings on the river. It was lunchtime, and I was guessing Mickey Gritch would be hanging out, looking to run some numbers.

Oh boy, Lula said when I pulled into the 7-Eleven lot on Marble Street. Youre not gonna do what I think youre gonna do, are you?

Im going to talk to Mickey Gritch.

I spotted his car, parked to the side of the lot. No other cars around it. It was early. Lunch hours hadnt kicked in yet. I pulled up beside him, and his tinted window rolled down.

Mickey Gritch had white-blond hair cut in a sixties Beatle mop style. He had little pig eyes that were always behind shades, a big pasty potato head, and a body gone soft. He was in his late forties, and he was living proof that anyone could be successful at crime in Trenton if he truly worked at it.

What? Mickey Gritch asked me.

I want to talk to you about Vinnie.

What about him?

No one wants to fork up the money.

Doesnt surprise me, Gritch said. Hes a turd. Dont get me wrong. I like Vinnie. Weve done business for a lot of years. But hes still a turd.

Maybe we can make a deal?

Like what?

Like you dont kill him, and he can get some kind of a payment plan.