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“That would be the paper napkins,” Lula said. “Are you sure you have all those allergies?”
“I have a nervous stomach from the PTSD,” Potts said. “It’s hard to tell what’s an allergy and what’s irritable bowel syndrome. All I know is I get the poops a lot.”
“Bummer,” Lula said. “In the beginning I just thought you were weird and annoying, but now I’m starting to see you’re okay. It’s just that you’ve got a lot of problems. Even if they aren’t real, I guess they’re still problems if they give you the poops.”
“That’s profound,” Potts said.
“You bet your ass,” Lula said. “There’s more to me than meets the eye.”
“Call the order in to Pino’s, and get a vodka rig for me, too,” I told Connie. “I’ll pick it up. I want to drive by some addresses anyway.”
Lula and Potts followed me out of the office, and everyone piled into my SUV.
“You know what this is like?” Potts said. “This is like we’re a posse. I’ve never been part of a posse before. This is so cool.”
“Where’d you come up with that one?” Lula asked him.
“I was watching television last night and they had a rerun of Entourage. Remember that? It was a television show and then it was a movie? And this guy Vince had a posse. And I was thinking that’s like us. We’re a posse.”
“I remember that show,” Lula said. “Vince was hot. He didn’t have as much muscle as I like but he had good hair.”
My first drive-by was Cluck-in-a-Bucket. I wanted to check on Arnold Rugalowski. It was lunchtime and he should be working the fry station. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to see if he wanted to get a new court date. A polite inquiry.
I turned into the lot and parked and told everyone to stay in the car. Lula was happy to do this, and Potts didn’t put up much of a fight. They were getting worn down by failure and getting syringed and shot at. I wasn’t that smart. I kept pushing forward. Nothing stopped me. I was like RoboStephanie.
I cut the line at the counter and went straight to the front. “I’d like to talk to Arnold,” I said.
“He isn’t here,” the girl working the counter said. “He quit yesterday.”
“Did he get another job?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “He just left.”
“Well?” Lula asked when I got back behind the wheel.
“He wasn’t there. He quit yesterday.”
“Where did he go?”
I shrugged. “Don’t know.”
The next address on my list was the Mole Hole. It was in the opposite direction from Pino’s, but I had time to kill before our food was ready. I crossed over the train tracks and wound my way past the train station to the Mole Hole. I cruised through the lot and noted that the blue pickup and black Escalade were parked close to the entrance. Shine’s henchmen were on-site.
I drove past the Margo and Carlotta’s Bakery. I didn’t see Shine lurking in either of these locations. There were cars parked in front of the bakery, but nothing that had Shine’s name on it. I drove around the block and headed for Pino’s.
“I think there’s a big black car following us,” Potts said. “When you drove past the Mole Hole just now, it came out of the lot. It’s hard to tell, but I think the two guys in front are the ones who shot at us.”
I pulled up my back camera and saw the Escalade was two car lengths behind me. So much for being hidden in Ranger’s stealth Honda. I turned toward the center of the city, where I knew I could count on traffic and lights. The Escalade turned with me. I right-turned into heavy traffic and they had to drop back by four or five cars. I ran a yellow light and they were stopped on the red.
“Hah!” Lula said. “Amateurs.”
They weren’t amateurs. They were unlucky. And they weren’t tailing me for surveillance. They would have rammed me from behind or passed me and cut me off. And then when I was stopped, they would have yanked me out at gunpoint.
I turned right and a block later I turned right again and made my way to Pino’s. I arrived just as my order came out of the kitchen. Lunchtime and late at night, Pino’s was a cop hangout, but I didn’t see anyone I knew today. Just as well, since I was feeling awkward walking in with my posse. It wasn’t as if we were going to eat at a table. This was three people coming in to carry out one bag.
* * *
I ate my lunch at the office, finishing it in record time. “I’m off the clock,” I said. “I have things to do?”
