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I left my card on the table, and Lula and I trudged down the stairs.
“I hate to see how she’s fallen on hard times,” Lula said. “She used to make good money. She had one of the best corners on Stark Street. She didn’t even used to work in the rain. She was a nice-weather ’ho. And now look at her. She got something growing on her lip that you only see in a horror movie.”
We sat in the Mercedes and watched the street for a while. No one went in or out of the apartment building. Billy Bacon didn’t magically appear.
“Maybe we should check out his former place of employment,” Lula said. “He might have gone back to cooking burgers.”
I drove to Mike’s Burgers and idled at the curb while Lula went in to ask about Billy. She returned with a giant soda and a bucket of fries. No Billy.
“They don’t know where he is,” Lula said. “They said they think he’s hiding on account of some crazy-ass bounty hunter almost got him killed.”
“That would be you,” I said to Lula.
“I was an innocent bystander. I was minding my own business and I got carjacked. You want some fries?”
“They’re green.”
“They said it was some special potatoes, and they didn’t even charge me extra for it.”
“I’ll pass.”
NINE
IT WAS MIDMORNING when I got to Kiltman. I parked in a lot behind the administration building and we cut across campus to the Zeta house.
Three women were marching back and forth across the front lawn. They were holding signs that called for the annihilation of the Zetas.
“What’s the deal?” Lula asked one of the women. “What’s wrong with the Zetas?”
“Everything. They’re all pigs. It’s a totally sexist fraternity.”
“I’m pretty sure fraternities are supposed to be sexist,” Lula said to her. “Now, if people started vomiting up cockroaches when they were in there, that would be something. You ever see anything like that?”
“Not cockroaches,” one of the women said. “Just normal vomit.”
“That makes me feel a lot better,” Lula said. “I was worried about the cockroaches.”
The front door was open so we walked in. All was quiet. No pigs milling around. No cockroaches that we could see.
“It’s a big house,” Lula said. “Gobbles could be hiding somewhere here. Are you going to go door to door?”
“No. I don’t want to see what’s behind some of these doors.”
“Evil?”
“Naked men.”
“Do you want me to look?” Lula asked.
“Not without cause.”
“I think he’d be in the cellar,” Lula said. “They’re always hiding either in the cellar or the attic. ’Course sometimes they’re in a closet or under the bed. And remember that time that little person was in the clothes dryer? Although I don’t think he got in there voluntarily since he was getting tumbled and someone had to have pus
hed the button.”
“My experience is that fraternities usually have bars in the cellar. Or at least a cold room for storing kegs of beer.”
“Hey,” Lula called to a guy who was heading for the front door. “How do we get into the cellar?”
