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“We could do some leg work for Ranger on the Dumpster murders.”
“I might be willing to help you with that if you bring me some bacon from your mama’s kitchen.”
“Too late. I ate it all.”
“That’s harsh.”
Five minutes later I picked Lula up, and we drove to the Senior Center to get a complete list of bus
inesses involved in the Senior Discount Club.
“We only give this list out to members,” the woman in the small administrative office said.
She had short brown hair, narrow lips, military posture, and eyebrows that looked like they’d been drawn on with a brown crayon. She was in her mid-fifties to early sixties, and she was taking her Saturday job seriously.
“I realize that,” I said, “but my granny is thinking about becoming more active at the Senior Center and she’s interested in this program. I thought it would be helpful if I got some information for her.”
“If she’s thinking of becoming more active she should start now and pick our program brochure up for herself,” the woman said.
“Good point,” I said. “But this is a busy day for her, so I’m helping out.”
“The rules say the list only goes to members,” the woman said. “Your grandmother will have to become a member, and then she’ll get the list.”
“Fine. I’ll sign her up to be a member.”
“Impossible,” the woman said. “She has to do that in person. How would we know whom we were signing up? It could be anyone. It could be a twelve-year-old.”
“What’s with this?” Lula said. “You could vote in this state with less fuss. Nobody cares how old you are or if you’re dead. All’s gotta happen is someone signs your name and they can vote. And here you are saying we can’t get a list of stores for her granny. It’s because I’m here, isn’t it? You’re doing racial profiling. You don’t want no big and beautiful black woman to have the list. I’m gonna call people. I’m calling the newspaper and Oprah. I’m gonna organize and get some signs made. I got posterboard and Magic Markers in my trunk.”
“Rules are rules,” the woman said.
“Well, I’m not leaving without the list,” Lula said. “I’m gonna sit here in this stupid little sad-ass office until I get it.”
“I can have you removed,” the woman said. “I can call the police and have you arrested.”
“Oh yeah, I like that,” Lula said. “I got my iPhone all ready to record. Prune-face volunteer in old people’s home has big and beautiful black woman arrested for wanting to help her friend’s granny. That’s going viral on YouTube. I bet I get famous. I could get a model contract from that.”
“Oh, honestly,” the woman said. “Here! Take the list and get out of here.”
I took the list from her, told her we appreciated her help, and we scurried out of the building.
“I can’t believe you played the race card in there,” I said to Lula.
“I didn’t just play the race card,” Lula said. “I played the race card and the fat card. BAM! My thinking is you gotta use what you got. God didn’t make me a big beautiful black woman for nothing. I got cards to play. You see what I’m saying? And take you, for instance. You got no cards.”
“I’m at a disadvantage,” I said.
“Fuckin’ A,” Lula said.
I plugged the key into the ignition and we rumbled out of the lot. “I thought we’d check out all of the businesses on the list and see if anything strikes us as odd.”
“You mean like some fool standing behind the counter, counting out his newfound money, holding a Venetian blind cord?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Like that.”
“Okay, then,” Lula said. “I’m on it.”
I didn’t stop at the gas station, as most of the dead women hadn’t had cars. And I didn’t bother stopping at Randy’s deli. Been there, done that. Plus I was afraid he’d make me slice up a pig brain or monkey gonads.
