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“That’s like a advertisement Vinnie’s in there,” Lula said.
“Maybe.”
I drove around the corner and turned into the alley. We counted off units, and I idled behind the apartment building. It had six parking spaces marked off in its small lot. The rest of the lot was given over to a Dumpster. The black SUV was parked in one of the spaces. The building had a back door at ground level. One window with bars at ground level. No bars on the windows on the second, third, and fourth floors. A rusted fire escape clung precariously to the back of the building.
“Try the back door,” I said to Lula.
Lula dropped out of the Jeep, crossed the lot, and tried the door. Locked. She got back into the Jeep.
“Now what?” Lula said. “I think he’s in there, but I don’t know if the stink bomb’s gonna work. This place already smells like a stink bomb. Plus, they got a ticket taker on the front door.”
“One of us needs to go in and look around.”
“You?”
“No,” I said. “You.”
“Why me? I’m only the assistant bounty hunter, and I’m not even sure I want to rescue Vinnie.”
“You can get by the guy at the door. Tell him you’re making a delivery to the nasty fat guy on the third floor.”
“Am I goin’ door to door, selling Girl Scout cookies?”
“No. Once you get in, just look around and listen for voices.”
I dropped Lula off at the corner and watched her swing her ass past the funeral home and up to the guy at the door to the apartment building. She stood and talked to him for a short time, and then she went inside. After ten minutes, I looked in my rear view mirror and spotted a Rangeman SUV double-parked in front of a bar half a block back. The cowardly part of me was happy to see them there, but the rest of my brain acknowledged that I led a weird life. I had a cop boyfriend who hated my job and tried to get me to quit. And I had a security expert potential lover who didn’t tell me to quit my job, but had me under constant surveillance. I wasn’t sure which was worse.
Lula popped out of the building’s open front door, and the door guard grabbed her by the arm. I was ready to roll if it looked like she was in danger. Not that I would be much good as a rescuer, but the two heavily armed, overly muscled guys on my bumper could do some damage.
Lula jollied herself away from the door guard and sashayed down the sidewalk to where I was waiting. She got into the Jeep, I waved to the Rangeman guys, and I drove off.
“Well?” I asked her.
“He’s there. He’s in the back unit on the fourth floor. I could hear him talking. Sounded like they were playing cards.”
“Any problems? Anyone see you?”
“Just the moron at the door, and he bought the ’ho line.”
It was too late to catch Chopper at his lunch stops, and I wasn’t in the mood to start looking for the toilet paper bandit, so I headed back to the office. I needed to talk to Connie anyway. It was one thing to find Vinnie, it was a whole other deal to rescue him. As much as I would love to see Connie shoot off a stink bomb, I had serious doubts about it as a rescue aid. Seemed to me a stink bomb, like a fire bomb, got everyone out of the building, but didn’t give us an opportunity to snatch Vinnie.
I was halfway across town when Grandma Mazur called. “I think I broke my foot,” she said. “I was dancing to one of them workout videos, and I accidentally stubbed my toe on the coffee table, and now I think something’s broke. At first, I thought it wasn’t broke, but it’s turned purple, and it’s all swelled up.”
“Where’s Mom?”
“She’s at the beauty parlor. And your father’s playing pinochle at his club. And I hate to call the ambulance people, because then I’ll be a spectacle. There’ll be rumors I’m dead. I just need you to give me a ride to the emergency room.”
ELEVEN
LULA AND I stood in the living room, looking at Grandma’s foot.
“It looks broke all right,” Lula said to Grandma. “That’s one heck of an ugly foot you got there, but I like the polish you got on your toes. What’s the name of that?”
“Red Hot Rapture. Lucky I just painted them yesterday. Imagine breaking your foot when your toes weren’t done up.”
“Yeah,” Lula said. “I’d hate that. Does it hurt?”
“It used to, but I took a couple snorts of Jack Daniels, and I’m pretty happy.”
