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“From what I hear, he moves around. Nobody can tolerate him for more than two days. He’s so annoying. He has an opinion about everything. Talk, talk, talk. And he’s constantly cracking his knuckles, and there’s no polite way to say this . . . he farts. A lot.”
“Maybe he’s got gluten issues,” Lula said.
“Maybe he should double up on his underwear in the place that counts, instead of wearing a pair on his head,” Judy said.
“Does he have a favorite bar or fast-food place?” I asked. “Is there any place he regularly hangs out?”
“Yes,” Judy said. “Here! I have a restraining order against him because he skulks around my house every night and breaks my gnomes, but that doesn’t stop him. He leaves stupid presents on my doorstep.”
“What kind of presents?” Lula asked.
“Flowers and bottles of wine and pizza and jewelry.”
“They sound like nice presents,” Lula said.
“I guess so, but he’s such an oaf he’s always knocking over the gnomes. He broke Henry’s arm last night. I call the police and by the time they get here he’s gone.”
“Where does he get the money to buy these presents?” I asked. “Does he have a job?”
“He steals them,” Judy said. “The moron puts his underpants on his head and steals stuff.”
“Does he have a routine?” I asked. “When does he leave these presents?”
“Usually between nine and eleven. He knows I go to bed at eleven.”
“I’m going to stake out your house between nine and eleven for a couple days,” I said. “Don’t call the police. Maybe I can catch Johnny.”
Lula and I tiptoed our way through the gnomes to Morelli’s car.
“If you ask me, they’re both whackadoodle,” Lula said, buckling her seatbelt.
I was about to drive to the office when my mother called.
“You have to come see this,” she said. “You have to talk to your grandmother. And I’ve got kielbasa for lunch.”
“We’re having lunch at my parents’ house,” I said to Lula.
• • •
Grandma met us at the door. Her hair was cut, styled, and colored to look exactly like my mom’s. And Grandma was spray-tanned. Head to toe with the exception of white circles around her eyes.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“I think you rock,” Lula said. “Us girls gotta mix it up once in a while.”
“I’m taking it for a test-drive,” Grandma said.
My mom was in the kitchen.
“I heard that,” she said. “As long as you don’t test-drive it to Florida.”
I led the way and hung my bag on a kitchen chair. The small table was set for four, and the bread and butter were already out.
“Hey, Mrs. P.,” Lula said. “It smells good in here.”
“Kielbasa and sauerkraut,” my mom said. “It’s lunch, so everyone helps themselves from the pot on the stove.”
We all filled our plates and sat at the table.
