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“Bernard Smitch,” I said. “He’s FTA.”
I pulled my papers out of my messenger bag and handed them over.
Gary grinned. “I know this guy. He pooped in the middle of Broad Street.”
Lula and I got out and more or less dragged Smitch out of the backseat and propped him up against my SUV.
“Is he okay?” Gary asked.
“He’s a mime,” Lula said. “He’s miming a seizure. It’s one of his most popular routines.”
“Looks to me like he might be miming that he got zapped with a stun gun,” Gary said.
“It’s possible,” Lula said. “There’s a similarity between the two experiences. And you never know with a mime.”
We dragged Smitch into the building and cuffed him to a bench. I got my body receipt, and Lula and I returned to the bond office.
“Done and done,” Lula said to Connie.
“You guys are hot,” Connie said. “You got Virgil, Diggery, and Smitch. Vinnie’s going to be happy.”
Lula looked over at Vinnie’s open door. “Where is the little perv? How come he’s not here?”
“Good question,” Connie said. “Don’t know the answer. He tends to wander into murky waters when Lucille goes out of town.”
“I hope he’s not looking for another duck,” Lula said. “I try to be open-minded about people’s needs, but that was disturbing. I doubt that duck was consensual.”
“Gosh, look at the time,” I said, checking my watch. “I need to get home in case Morelli wants me to make dinner for him.”
“Me too,” Lula said. “I gotta get ready for my filming. I gotta glitter up my eyelids. And I want to go over the script one more time.”
Connie wrote me a check for the mime catch. “What are you making for dinner?” she asked me.
“Hot dogs.”
“Can’t go wrong with hot dogs,” Lula said. “What are you going to serve with them?”
“Beer.”
“That’ll do it,” Lula said.
A text message from Ranger dinged on my cellphone.
“Now what?” Lula asked.
“I’m supposed to meet Ranger at Mo Morris Ice Cream tomorrow at eight o’clock.”
“That’s the good ice cream place,” Lula said. “That’s where they give you free ice cream.”
“Why are you going to Mo Morris?” Connie asked. “I thought you were at Bogart’s solving security issues.”
“Harry Bogart thinks Mo is behind all the disasters at his plant. Ranger’s sending me in to see if I pick up any bad vibes.”
“How’s he going to get you in there?” Lula asked. “I thought it was impossible to get a job at that plant.”
I shrugged. “Don’t know. It’s not my problem.”
“Yeah,” Lula said, “your problem is trying to look good in a shower cap and paper onesie.”
