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“I'll ask him if he's seen my cat.”
“Uh-oh,” Lula said. “You don't have a cat.”
All right, so it was a little lame. It was the best I could come up with. I was betting Hannibal wasn't home. I didn't hear Ranger yodel good-bye to anyone last night. I didn't notice lights on after he left.
“What are you looking for?” Lula asked. “Or do you just want to die young?”
“I'll know it when I see it,” I said. At least I hoped so.
The truth is, I didn't want to think too hard about what I was looking for. I was half afraid it'd incriminate Ranger. He'd asked me to watch Hannibal's house, and then he'd gone snooping without me. Made me feel just a tad left out. And it had me a little worried. What had he been looking for in Hannibal's house? For that matter, what was he looking for at the Deal house? I suspected my window- and door-counting expedition had given him information he needed to break in to the building. What on earth could be in there to warrant taking such a risk?
Ranger, the Man of Mystery, was okay when everything was going just fine. But I was involved in something serious here, and I was thinking that the constant mystery surrounding Ranger was getting old. I wanted to know what was going on. And I wanted some assurance that Ranger was on the right side of the law on this one. I mean, who was this guy?
LULA AND I stood on the sidewalk and studied Hannibal's house. Drapes still drawn. Very quiet. The houses on either side of Hannibal were quiet, too. Sunday afternoon. Everyone was out at the mall.
“You sure this is the right address?” Lula asked. “This don't look like no big-ass arms-dealer house. I was expecting something like the Taj Mahal. Like where the Donald lives.”
“Donald Trump doesn't live in the Taj Mahal.”
“He does when he's in Atlantic City. This turkey don't even have no gun turrets. What kind of arms dealer is he, anyway?”
“Low profile.”
“Fuckin' A.”
I approached the door and rang the bell.
“Low profile or not,” Lula said, “if he answers I'm gonna mess my pants.”
I tried the handle, but the door was locked.
I looked to Lula. “You can pick a lock, right?”
“Hell, yes. They don't make the lock I can't pick. Only I didn't bring my whatchamacallit.”
/> “Your lock-picking thing?”
“That's it. And anyway, what about the alarm system?”
“I have a feeling the alarm system isn't working.” And if it is, we run like hell when we set it off.
We walked back to the sidewalk, around the block, and got on the bike path from one street over, just in case someone was watching. We walked to Hannibal's privacy fence and let ourselves in through the gate, which was now unlocked.
“You been here before?” Lula asked.
“Yep.”
“What happened?”
“He shot at me.”
“Hunh,” Lula said.
I put my hand to the patio door and shoved. The door was unlocked.
“You may as well go first,” Lula said. “I know how you like to do that.”
I pulled the curtain aside and stepped into Hannibal's house.
