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'I'm going nuts here!'
There was a disconnect and then a dial tone. '
I still had the phone in my hand when it rang.
'What's going on?' Connie wanted to know. 'Are you sick? You always check in at the office by now.'
'I have a car problem.'
'And? You want me to send Lula?'
'Sure. Send Lula.'
Ten minutes later, Lula's red Firebird was idling in front of
Morelli's house.
'Looks like Morelli got his house decorated,' Lula said.
'It appears Eugene Brown didn't enjoy getting flipped off my hood.'
1 didn't get none of this gang crap on my house, so it looks like you're the only one he's holding a grudge against. I guess that's on account of I was just an innocent passenger.'
I gave Lula the squinty-eyed death glare.
'Don't you look at me like that,' Lula said. 'You should be happy for me that I'm not involved in this. Anyways, Vinnie's not happy either. He said there's just five days left to get Roger Bankers ass hauled into court, or he's gonna be out the bond.'
If I had a quarter for every time I tried to snag Roger Banker, I could go to Bermuda for a week. Banker was as slippery as they come. He was a repeat offender, so he knew the drill. I couldn't feed him a load of baloney about just going down to the court to reschedule. He knew once the cuffs were on him, he was going to jail. He was unemployed, living off an indeterminate number of loser girlfriends and loser relatives. And he was hard to spot.
Banker had no memorable features. Banker was like the invisible man. I once stood next to him at a bar and didn't recognize him.
Lula and I had been collecting photographs of him and committing the photographs to memory with hopes that would help.
'Okay,' I said, let's make the rounds. Maybe we'll get lucky.'
The rounds consisted of Lowanda Jones, Beverly Barber,
Chermaine Williamson, and Marjorie Best. There were other people and places to include in the Banker hunt, but Lowanda,
Beverly, Chermaine, and Marjorie were my top picks. They all lived in the projects just north of the police station. Lowanda and
Beverly were sisters. They lived four blocks apart, and they were a car crash.
Lula cruised into the projects. 'Who's first up?' Lula asked.
'Lowanda.'
The projects covered a large chunk of Trenton real estate that was less than prime. A lot less than prime. The buildings were redbrick, government-issue low rise. The fencing was industrial chain-link. The cars at the curb were junkers.
'Good thing for the gang graffiti or this would be real drab,' Lula said. 'Wouldn't you think they could grow grass? Hell, plant a bush.'
I suspected even God would have a hard time landscaping the projects. The ground was as hard and as blighted as the lives of the people who lived here.
Lula turned onto Kendall Street and parked two doors down from Lowanda's garden apartment. The term garden being used loosely. We'd been here before so we knew the layout. It was a ground-floor unit with one bedroom and seven dogs. The dogs were of varying sizes and ages. All of indeterminate breed. All of them horny buggers willing to hump anything that moved.
We got out of the car cautiously, on the lookout for the pack of beasts.
'I don't see any of Lowanda's dogs,' Lula said.
