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'Maybe they're locked up in the house.'
'Well, I'm not going in if they're in the house. I hate those dogs.
Nasty-assed humpers. What's she thinking, anyway, to keep a pack of pervert dogs like that?'
We knocked once. No answer.
'I know she's in there,' Lula said. 'I can hear her talking, doing business.'
Lowanda did phone sex. She didn't look like she was rolling in money, so I was guessing she wasn't all that good at the job. Or maybe she just spent her money on beer, cigarettes, and chicken nuggets. Lowanda ate a lot of chicken nuggets. Lowanda a
te chicken nuggets like Carol Cantell ate Cheez Doodles.
I knocked again and tried the doorknob. The door wasn't locked.
I held the door open a crack, and Lula and I peeked in. No dogs in sight.
'Not likely Banker's in here,' Lula said, following me through the front door. 'The door would be locked up. And anyway, jail would look good compared to this pigpen.'
We stepped over a suspicious stain on the rug and stared into the jumbled mess that passed for Lowanda's home. There was a mattress on the floor in the far corner of the living room. The mattress was covered with a tattered yellow chenille spread. An open, empty pizza delivery box was on the floor by the mattress.
Clothes and shoes were scattered everywhere. A couple rickety folding chairs had been set up in the living room. The backs of the chairs said 'Morten's Funeral Parlor.' A big brown leather recliner had been placed in front of the television. The recliner had a gash in one arm and in the seat, and some of the stuffing was spilling out.
Lowanda was in the recliner with her back to us, a phone to her ear and a bucket of chicken nuggets balanced on the roll of fat that circled her waist. She was wearing gray sweats decorated with ketchup stains.
'Yeah, honey,' she said into the phone. That's good, baby. Oh yeah. Oh-h-h-h yeah. I just got myself all naked for you. An' I got love oil on myself 'cause I'm gonna get hot.'
'Hey!' Lula said. 'Lowanda, you paying attention here?'
Lowanda jumped in her seat and whipped around to look at us.
'What the hell?' she said. 'What are you doing scaring me like that when I'm trying to earn a honest living?' She returned to the phone. 'Excuse me, sugar. Lowanda's got a small problem. Could you just work on yourself some? I be right back.' She covered the phone with her hand and got up, some of the chair stuffing sticking to her double-wide ass. 'What?'
'We're looking for Roger Banker,' Lula said.
'Well, he isn't here. Does it look like he's here?'
'Maybe he's hiding in the other room,' Lula said.
'You got a search warrant?'
'We don't need a search warrant,' Lula said. 'We're bounty hunters.'
'Whatever,' Lowanda said. 'Just do your search and get out. I gotta get back to my caller. Soon as you stop talking to Mr Stiffy he turns into Mr Softy. And I get paid by the job. I do a volume business here.'
Lula moved through the house while I stayed with Lowanda.
`I'm willing to pay for information,' I told Lowanda. 'Do you have any information?'
'How much you paying?'
'Depends on the information,' I said.
'I got an address. I know where he's at if you hurry over there.'
She handed the phone over to me. 'You talk to this guy, and I'll write down the address.'
'Wait a minute
