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“What’s with the black suit on you? You look like you’re going to a funeral.”
“I am. Jimmy Poletti’s mother is getting buried today.”
“I forgot. Do you think I should go?”
“Yes. We need to leave for the service in twenty minutes.”
Briggs returned to the kitchen in fifteen minutes. He was showered and dressed in clothes that were wrinkled but clean and smelling only slightly of smoke. He scarfed down his coffee and a bowl of cereal, complained about the quality of the orange juice, and we were out the door and on our way to get Grandma.
Grandma was wearing a royal blue pantsuit and black patent leather pumps, and she was carrying her large black patent leather purse. I strongly suspected she had her .45 long barrel in the purse.
I pulled the Buick into the funeral line at the church and had a funeral flag attached to my car. Lula slid in line behind me in her red Firebird. We all got out of our cars and gathered on the sidewalk. Lula was wearing five-inch heels and a stretchy black skirt and wrap top. Her hair had been toned down for the occasion from hot pink to magenta.
“So what’s the plan?” Lula wanted to know. “We gonna hang the little guy out and hope someone takes a potshot at him?”
“That’s plan B,” I said. “We’ll do that tomorrow if plan A doesn’t work today.”
“And plan A would be what?” Briggs asked.
“We go to the church service and the funeral and hope we see Jimmy Poletti lurking somewhere,” I said. “We’ll spread out and keep in touch by phone.”
“I’m ready to take him down,” Grandma said. “I’ve got the big boy with me.”
“Keep the big boy in your purse, please,” I said, “and call me if you see Jimmy. I’m going to hang outside. I want you and Lula to go inside with Briggs. Don’t let anyone snatch him.”
I crossed the street to get a better view of the church and its surroundings. I’d fibbed a little about not hanging Briggs out for a potshot. Of course I was hanging him out. Everyone knew it, including Briggs, but I didn’t think he wanted to hear me admit it.
My phone buzzed, and I looked down at the text message:
Babe.
Ranger was in place … somewhere.
Five minutes later, Grandma texted me. She, Lula, and Briggs were seated in the last row and could see the whole church, and so far they hadn’t spotted Jimm
y, but the Poletti boy was there with his hands bandaged.
Organ music drifted out to me. The big carved oak doors closed, and there was silence.
Another text from Ranger. Two plainclothes cops inside, and one outside standing half a block from you.
I looked down the block and waved at the guy on the corner. He grinned but didn’t wave back. I looked around for Ranger, but couldn’t find him. No surprise there.
I watched the passing cars and the side doors of the church. I didn’t see any unusual activity. After a while the big double doors at the front of the church opened, and people began trickling out.
I got a text from Lula. We’re staying with the dead lady. So far no one’s wanted short stuff, but he’s gotten a bunch of dirty looks from a lot of people. He don’t seem to be real popular.
I waited across the street until Mrs. Poletti was eased into the hearse. The cop at the corner was still in place. Grandma and Lula were on the sidewalk by the hearse with Briggs squashed between them. No Ranger in sight. Grandma and Briggs went with Lula, I got behind the wheel of the Buick, and we all played follow the leader to the cemetery.
I parked on the road that led to the gravesite, got out of the car, and immediately got a text from Ranger.
Looking good.
I didn’t know if he meant me in my little black suit, or if he meant that Jimmy Poletti was here. Either way, it was a good message. I followed the people who were walking to where a tent gave shelter to a few chairs. The cemetery was old and held generations of families. Grave markers varied from simple flat stones on the ground to elaborate granite statues of angels. The terrain was for the most part open grass fields, but there were also mature trees scattered over acres of graves.
The Poletti grave was on the side of a gently sloping hill. There were approximately fifty people at graveside. A few mourners were sitting on folding chairs, but most were standing. Lula, Grandma, and Briggs were at the outer edge of the crowd. I was a short distance away, with my back to the gravesite, watching the road.
I felt a change in my force field, caught a hint of Bulgari Green shower gel, and knew Ranger was near.
