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“He’s okay, folks,” Lula said to the crowd that had gathered. “You could go back to your sunnin’ and drinkin’. Bar’s open. Self-serve.”
Beasley wasn’t looking like he was going to get up anytime soon, so Lula and I each took a foot and dragged him to the locker room.
“This is the ladies’ locker room,” the attendant said. “You can’t bring him in here.”
“Wait here,” I said to Lula.
I went to our locker and got dressed in record time. I took twenty dollars out of my purse, gave it to the attendant, and she happened to be looking the other way when we dragged Beasley into the locker room.
Lula got dressed, and we stood there looking at Beasley. We couldn’t take him out onto the boardwalk or through the casino naked, and we didn’t want to go into the men’s locker room to get his clothes.
“Only thing we got here is towels,” Lula said. “We could make him a diaper but I don’t know how to hold it together.”
“Garbage bag,” I said. “Have the attendant open the broom closet and give you a big green trash bag.”
Lula came back with the garbage bag, we tore a hole in the top, got Beasley up on his feet, and pul
led the bag over his head. It came to about two inches below his privates.
“Lucky for us he’s not hung like some of the old folks out there,” Lula said. “Some of them would need a bag that comes to their knees.”
We walked Beasley to the car and strapped him in next to Tiki.
“I got sand in my lady parts,” Lula said. “Whoever thought a naked beach was a good idea never sat in one.”
NINETEEN
I BROUGHT BEASLEY into the police station and ran into Morelli.
“I was just going to call you,” Morelli said.
“I’ve been busy.”
“So I see. Your FTA’s dressed in a garbage bag, you have sand in your hair, and you smell like a piña colada.”
“The guy I just handed over was a bartender at a nudie beach, and he threw a drink at me.”
“You took him down on a nudie beach?”
“Yeah. Lula and me.”
Morelli grinned. “Did you and Lula join in the fun?”
“We didn’t have much choice. They wouldn’t let us on the beach with our clothes on.”
“Both of you full monty?”
“Yep.”
“I’m a little turned on,” Morelli said.
“I hate to disappoint you but it wasn’t all that sexy. I have sand everywhere.”
Someone stuck his head out of a room down the hall and yelled for Morelli.
“Coming!” Morelli yelled back. “I’ll pick you up at your apartment at six o’clock,” he said to me. “We can catch a fast burger and then talk to Mickey Zigler.”
I dropped Lula at the office and continued on home. I brought Tiki into the apartment with me, set him on the couch, and turned the television on. I got into the shower and realized I’d turned the television on for a chunk of wood.
