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“No cookies for killers,” the woman said to Monica. “I paid for these cookies and you can’t have any.”
The wife slapped the cookie out of Monica’s hand, and Monica splashed her tea onto the widow’s pink suit.
“Bitch!” the wife yelled. “You cow. You cheap whore.”
In an instant they were on the ground, gouging eyes and pulling hair. I tried to wade in to separate them, but they were rolling around and I couldn’t get a grip. Someone kicked out and caught me in the back of the leg, and I went down too. The funeral director ran in, made the mistake of getting too close, and Monica bit him.
There was a deafening bang! and everyone froze. A chunk of plaster fell out of the ceiling and smashed onto the floor.
“What the heck?” the funeral director asked.
“Edna shot up the ceiling again,” Mabel Schein said.
“I figured someone had to get their attention,” Grandma said.
Ranger stepped out of the mob, scooped Monica up, and whisked her through the lobby and out the door. I got to my feet and helped Grandma fit her six-shooter back into her purse.
“This was worth the price of admission,” Grandma said.
“Do you need a ride home?”
“No. I came with Betty Shatz. We’re going to the diner for rice pudding after this.”
SEVEN
THE RANGEMAN SUV was pulling away with the Linkens inside when I approached Ranger.
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sp; “Another job well done,” I said.
“I assume they were fighting over cookies.”
“More or less. The best part was when Monica Linken bit the funeral director.”
“I’m sorry I missed that.”
“I need to check out an address tonight. I’m looking for a Kiltman student, and I think he might be hiding out with his girlfriend. Want to come along?”
He gave me a long slow look from my head to my toes, and I figured he was wondering how difficult it would be to get me out of the skinny slacks.
“Don’t even think about it,” I said.
A hint of a smile curved the corners of his mouth, and he wrapped an arm around me. “Babe.”
We walked to his Porsche, buckled up, and drove across town. It was dark by the time we got to Banyan Street. We sat across from 2121 for a while, watching the house.
“Do you have an apartment number?” Ranger asked.
“2B.”
“So she’s most likely on the second floor. Lights are on in the front. Let’s get out and take a look at the back.”
It was a large house, probably built in the fifties for a big family. The lot was relatively small. The details were lost in deep shadow. A driveway hugged one side and led to a four-car garage on the back edge of the property. No one out and about but Ranger and me. Lights were also on in back windows. No shades were drawn, but we couldn’t see anyone moving around.
“What do these people look like?” Ranger asked.
“Julie Ruley is about five foot four, shoulder-length blond hair, nice looking in a back-to-nature kind of way. Ken Globovic has sandy blond hair. A little pudgy. File says he’s five ten. His mug shot made him look like Christopher Robin.”
