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“Damn skippy,” Lula said.
I made a loop around the parking area and noticed a rust-riddled van parked across from Kruger’s apartment. A blond woman was behind the wheel. It was Susan Cubbin.
I parked next to the van and got out. “Stay here,” I said to Lula. “I’ll only be a minute.”
I opened the door to the van and stuck my head in. The cat was sleeping next to Susan, and I could see the kitty litter on the floor behind the seat.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s up?”
“I’m looking for my jerk husband, that’s what’s up. What’s up with you?”
“Pretty much the same thing. Why are you parked here?”
“He’s with the nurse. It’s the only explanation. I don’t know how she got him out of the hospital, but she’s got him squirreled away somewhere. Have you seen her? She’s probably made her powder room into a sex dungeon.”
“So you’re following her around?”
“No. I’m watching her condo. I’m waiting for a sign that he’s in there. As soon as I know for sure, I’m going in like gangbusters.”
“Do you have her condo bugged?”
“No. I bought some stuff, but I don’t know how to use it. It didn’t come with instructions.”
Susan Cubbin was almost as good at snooping as Dottie Luchek was at hooking. Which was to say she was no good at all.
“Lula and I went to see you yesterday,” I said to Susan. “The front door was open and there was a big guy with white hair in your house.”
“A realtor?”
“I don’t think so. He looked more like a maniac.”
“They’re not mutually exclusive,” Susan said. “I put that piece of junk up for sale. I’m sure it was a realtor.”
The cat stood, turned around three times, and settled back down.
“How can you be sure Nurse Norma has your husband on ice here?” I asked her. “Maybe she has him someplace else.”
“She doesn’t go anywhere else. She works all the time. If she’s not here then she’s at the hospital or The Clinic. I followed her there the first day. She’s at The Clinic from four in the afternoon until six o’clock.”
“Is this clinic attached to the hospital?”
“No. She’s moonlighting. It’s a private clinic on Deeley Street, and it’s called The Clinic. At least it says ‘The Clinic’ on the sign, but I didn’t see any patients going in or out. It might be one of those research places. There are a lot of them on that Route 1 corridor going to Princeton.”
I gave her my business card again, and I went back to Lula in the Buick.
“Well?” Lula said.
“It’s Susan Cubbin. She’s hunkered down looking for her husband and the five million dollars. She’s got her cat with her and a sleeping bag in the back.”
“Where’s she going potty?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“That would have been my first question,” Lula said. “I’m interested in stuff like that.”
“Have you ever heard of Deeley Street?”
“No, but I can find it on my cellphone.”
