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I ratted my hair, put on brighter lipstick, took my sweatshirt off, and rolled my T-shirt so I had some skin showing.
“This is the best I can do,” I said.
“You’re not all that hot,” Lula said. “You’re never gonna make any money looking like that.”
“Sure I would. I’m the girl next door.”
“You don’t know much,” she said. “You gotta have a short skirt to be the girl next door and you put your hair in two ponytails.”
“I thought that was the Catholic schoolgirl.”
“The Catholic schoolgirl’s skirt is plaid and pleated.”
I put Pip’s bottle back in my bag, hiked my bag up on my shoulder, and swung myself down from the Jeep. We made our way through the clump of men, through the open door, and into the foyer. Several older women stood by a table with a coffee urn and cups. I could see more women and a couple men in an adjoining room. The casket was in that room. So far as I could tell, this was the extent of the public areas.
“Small funeral home,” I said to Lula.
“I guess the embalming goes on upstairs, being that the windows are blacked out, and we know Bobby Sunflower likes to keep rats in his cellars,” Lula said.
“I want to see what’s down the hall to the left. Stand at the front of it, so no one can see me snooping.”
The hall wasn’t long. It led to a small kitchen, stairs going up, and two doors. I opened one door to stairs going down. I held my breath and listened for a moment. No squeaking. I flipped the light on and whispered hello. No answer. I didn’t want to rescue Vinnie bad enough to creep down the stairs. I closed the cellar door and tried the second door. It opened directly onto an alley and a small paved parking lot. A hearse and a black stretch Lincoln were parked in the lot. I stepped out onto the cement stoop to get a better look at the back of the building, and the door blew closed behind me. I tried the door. Locked. Crap!
The funeral home was in the middle of the block, with no breaks between buildings. I was going to have to walk down the alley and around the corner to get back to Stark. Ordinarily, no big deal, but this wasn’t the sort of neighborhood a girl wanted to stroll around in after dark.
I moved to the alley and looked back at the building. Four windows on the second floor. All blacked out and barred, just like the front windows. I called Lula on my cell phone.
“Where the heck are you?” Lula wanted to know.
“I accidentally got locked out. I’m in the alley. Can you let me back in?”
“Negative. Bobby Sunflower just came down the back stairs, and he’s standing in the hall talking to some idiot that’s got killer written all over him.”
“Go ask them if they’ve got Vinnie upstairs.”
“Funny,” Lula said. “Why don’t you rub your bottle and ask for X-ray eyes?”
“Are you being sarcastic about my lucky bottle?”
“Yeah, and I regret it. It’s not a good idea to disrespect a lucky bottle. I’ll meet you at the Jeep. Good thing you at least got your hairspray, ’case you meet up with some of the locals.”
FIVE
I POWER WALKED down the alley, keeping to the shadows, where I hoped I wouldn’t be seen. I scurried around the corner, and by the time I reached Stark Street, my heart rate was at stroke level. I did some deep breathing and tried to calm myself before I got to the car, so I wouldn’t have to listen to Lula go on about how I should carry a gun. Okay, probably she was right, but I really hated guns, and I could never remember where I hid the bullets.
Ranger had a remote door entry on the Jeep, so I beeped us in, and Lula and I sat watching the funeral parlor.
“Do you know Bobby Sunflower?” Lula asked me.
“No.”
“He’s the tall dude just come out.”
“Is Sunflower his real name?”
“So far as I know,” Lula said.
Bobby Sunflower was a little over six foot tall. He was lean, with a long face and long cornrows that came to his shoulders. He was dressed in a pinstriped suit and a white shirt that was unbuttoned to halfway down his chest. He had a lot of gold chains around his neck, and I could see his diamond ring from where I sat. He had two men with him who looked like dumb muscle. They stood two steps behind while Sunflower talked to a fireplug guy in a bad-fitting black suit.
