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“Guess they didn't use one of them flame-retardant carpets,” Lula said.
Habib and Mitchell were pressed flat to the building, mouths open.
“You could probably go now,” Lula said. “I don't think they're gonna follow you.”
By the time the fire trucks arrived, the carpet car was mostly carcass, and the fire had settled down to wienie-roast size. My Buick was about ten feet in front of the carpet car, but Big Blue was untouched. The Buick's paint wasn't even blistered. The only noticeable difference was a slightly warmer than usual door handle.
“I've got to go now,” I said to Mitchell. “Too bad about your car. And I wouldn't worry about your eyebrows. They're a little singed right now, but they'll probably grow back. I had this happen to me once and everything turned out okay.”
“What . . . How . . . ?” Mitchell said.
I loaded Bob into the Buick and eased away from the curb, winding my way around the police cars and fire trucks.
Carl Costanza was in uniform, directing traffic. “Looks like you're on a roll,” he said. “This is the second car you've toasted this week.”
“It wasn't my fault! It wasn't even my car!”
“I heard someone pulled the old bag-full-of-crapola gag on Arturo Stolle's two stooges.”
“No kidding? I don't suppose you know who did it?”
“Funny thing, I was just going to ask if you knew who did it.”
“I asked you first.”
Costanza did a small grimace. “No. I don't know who did it.”
“Me either,” I said.
“You're a pip,” Constanza said. “I can't believe you got suckered into taking Simon's dog.”
“I kind of like him.”
“Just don't leave him alone in your car.”
“You mean because it's against the law?”
“No. Because he ate Simon's front seat. Only thing left was some scraps of foam rubber and a few springs.”
“Thanks for sharing that with me.”
Costanza grinned. “I thought you'd want to know.”
I cruised off, thinking that if Bob ate Big Blue's seat it would probably regenerate. At the risk of sounding like Grandma, I was beginning to wonder about Big Blue. It was as if the darn thing was impervious to damage. It was almost fifty years old and the original paint was in perfect condition. All around it cars got dented and torched and smushed flat as a pancake, but nothing ever happened to Big Blue.
“It's downright creepy,” I said to Bob.
Bob had his nose pressed to the window and didn't look like he cared a whole lot.
I was still on Hamilton when my cell phone rang.
“Hey, babe,” Ranger said. “What have you got for me?”
“Only basic facts on Lotte. Do you want to know where she lives?”
“Pass.”
“She looks good in gray.”
