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“That’s a lot of going. I’m a retired professional, and it’d be a lot of going even for me. What you need are granny panties. You put on a big ol’ pair of ugly granny panties and you won’t be dropping your drawers no more. And even if you forget in the heat of the moment, and you pull your skirt up over your head, you’re not gonna see no action on account granny panties have a deflating effect on a man. Your man’s gonna be going unh ah, no way am I getting busy with a woman wearing granny panties.”
Call me crazy, but it made as much sense as anything else going on in my life. And it was better than thinking about Juki Beck. “Okay, sign me up. Where do I get granny panties?”
A half hour later we were at JCPenney, wandering around in the lingerie department.
“This is the perfect all-purpose store,” Lula said. “They got panties to fit any occasion. They got everything from thongs to granny panties and everything in between.” She picked a pair of pink cotton panties off the rack and held them up for inspection. “Now this is what I’m talking about. You don’t want to be seen in these panties. You have to turn the lights out when you put them on so you don’t even see yourself.”
“They look big.”
“Yeah, these suckers are gonna come up to your armpits. Try ’em on, and we’ll take ’em for a test drive. See if you want to hump anybody while you’re wearin’ these panties.”
I took the panties to the dressing room, tried them on, and checked myself out in the mirror. Not a pretty sight. I was definitely moving into birth control territory.
“Well?” Lula asked when I came out.
“They’re perfect.”
“They got them in red and white, too. I bet you put the white ones on, and you want to jump off a bridge.”
I bought one in each color, and I wore the pink ones out of the store. Better safe than sorry was my motto. Although truth is there wasn’t much to be sorry about considering the night I’d just had. And the night before that with Morelli hadn’t exactly been shabby.
“Now that you been back to back with Morelli and Ranger who’s winning the sack race?” Lula asked.
“The food and the bed linens are better at Rangeman, but Morelli has Bob.”
“All those things are important, only I’m talkin’ about the big O.”
I took some time to think about it. “They’re different, but equal.”
“That don’t tell me nothing,” Lula said. “Sounds to me like you gotta do more research.”
Oh boy.
“And what about boyfriend number three?” she asked.
“Dave Brewer? I don’t know him very well.”
“He’s good-lookin’, right? And he’s big and strong and manly?”
“I guess.”
“And he can cook. Seems like that equates to Ranger’s sheets and Morelli’s dog. And your mama likes him.”
“My mother’s endorsement doesn’t count for a lot. One time she fixed me up with Ronald Buzick.”
“The bu
tcher? The fat, bald guy?” Lula followed me out of the mall. “He’s not a real attractive man. Your mama must have been thinking about free sausage. I got some kielbasa from him once that was outstanding.”
I unlocked my Escort, and I thought about Ronald Buzick. He was about the same size as the killer. The jumpsuit had looked padded, but maybe those lumps were actually Ronald. He was strong enough to break someone’s neck. And he was a little odd. He seemed jolly on the outside, but I was guessing he had a lot of anger on the inside. I mean the man had his hand up chicken butts all day long.
“Do you think Ronald Buzick could kill someone?” I asked Lula.
“I think anyone could kill someone. People get a little wacky, and bang someone’s dead. At least in my neighborhood. What are we gonna do now? Do we need lunch?”
“We just ate lunch at the mall.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot.”
