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“I think there’s a local connection.”
It was almost noon when we returned to the deli.
“What do you think?” I asked Ranger. “Did you see anything interesting?”
“The police have already questioned everyone in a four-block grid. They came up with nothing, but I wanted to see for myself.”
“And?”
“Two build
ings have vans parked in the alley. And there were four garages that were closed and locked. I’ll have someone check them out.”
“You think they packed Hal off in a van?”
“No stone unturned,” Ranger said. “They immediately disabled his cellphone, so we weren’t able to track him.”
“You didn’t have a GPS gizmo sewn onto the hem of his shirt?”
“We tried that but they kept getting mangled in the laundry.”
I was being sarcastic. Ranger might have been serious.
“These kidnappings are well planned and well executed,” Ranger said. “The victim is quickly removed with little forensic evidence left behind. And so far, no one has stepped forward asking for ransom. No one is bragging on social media. No bodies have been found.”
“Except for Vinnie.”
“Vinnie is an anomaly,” Ranger said.
“Wow, ‘anomaly.’ That’s a big word.”
The barest hint of a smile twitched at the corners of Ranger’s mouth. “I know a few.”
Lula threw her hands up when she saw us. “It’s about time you came back. We got a situation here. We just opened and the place is packed and there’s a line out the front door. That stupid television station ran another special on this place. All about the people getting beamed up and leaving a shoe behind. And it was about me and Hal and how we were connected somehow. And how we were a sight to see. I don’t even know what that means. It might not be flattering in the way they said it. And if that isn’t bad enough, we haven’t got a waitress. Who’s gonna wait tables? I’m telling you it’s chaos.”
“You wait tables,” I said. “I’ll do the sandwiches and Ranger can take the phones.”
“Good luck with that,” Lula said. “The phones won’t stop ringing.”
“I have my fry oil ready,” Raymond said. “Let’s do this.”
Lula was wearing a royal blue bandage dress that was so tight it looked like it was painted on her. It had short sleeves and a low scoop neck that barely contained her massive breasts. The skirt wrapped around her Kardashian butt and hung two inches below her hoo-ha. She sashayed out on five-inch stilettos and distributed menus. She dropped one, bent at the waist to pick it up, and the bandage dress skirt did nothing to hide the full moon. Only a hint of her red thong was visible, the rest being sucked up into the Grand Canyon of Voluptuousness.
There was a collective gasp from the dining room.
“I must now pour bleach into my eyes,” Raymond said. “We are lucky the morality police don’t have jurisdiction in Trenton. They would beat her with a stick many times.”
“New plan,” Ranger said to me. “You wait tables and we’ll put Lula on sandwiches.”
“No one’s going to eat a sandwich she makes after seeing this,” Stretch said. “Give her phones and takeout.”
I handed Ranger a menu. “You’re up for sandwiches. Raymond works the fry station and Stretch plates and nukes. Everything you need to know is on this gravy-stained menu. Your workstation is behind Stretch.”
Ranger eyed the workstation. “Got it,” he said.
I tapped Lula on the shoulder and told her we had a new plan. “We think you’d be better behind the counter.”
“I’m good behind the counter, but it seems a shame people can’t appreciate my new dress when I’m hidden back there.” Lula looked down at herself. “This here’s a bitchin’ dress.”
