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“The human race is doomed,” I said. “How can we survive when the earth is populated by people like this?”
“These people aren’t so bad,” Lula said. “I’ve known lots worse. You gotta look at their whole picture. The Tasty Pastry Pooper was probably just trying to get happy with weed and a supermarket birthday cake, and it didn’t work out for him. The cook at Cluck-in-a-Bucket fried the roaches. It’s not like he was feeding them to his ex-wife while they were alive or something. And I don’t know what to say about the butt injector. He shouldn’t have been doing that. Anyways, the good news is that we’re going to drag their sorry asses back to jail, where they’ll have a chance to rehabilitate themselves.”
“Do you really think serving time could help them?” I asked Lula.
“Hell no,” she said. “They’ll get gang raped and hooked on meth.”
Connie held a half-empty box of donuts out to me. “This is why I get a box of donuts every morning,” she said. “It’s a box full of happiness.”
I took a donut and shoved the files into my messenger bag. “I’m all about happiness.”
“Me too,” Lula said. “We should probably take the box with us in case our happiness runs out. We’re going out after the bad guys, right?”
“Right.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Lula followed me out of the office with the donut box under her arm. “Who’s up first?”
“Rodney Trotter.”
“Going after the big money,” Lula said. “I like your style.”
“No guts, no glory,” I said. “Your car or mine?”
“I’m thinking you should drive on account of I just had my baby detailed. In case we get around to the streaker, and he still has gluten issues, I wouldn’t want him in my backseat, if you see what I’m saying.”
Lula drove a red Firebird that she kept in pristine condition. When she had her sound system cranked up it was enough to make birds fall out of the sky and your molars explode.
I got behind the wheel of the CR-V and handed the Trotter file over to Lula.
“It says here that he lives on Stiller Street,” Lula said. “That’s across town by the public housing projects.”
I was having a hard time focusing on Trotter. My brain was stuck on Benny and the treasure. I drove over the railroad tracks and turned right, toward the train station.
“We’re going the wrong way,” Lula said. “You must be taking the scenic route.”
“I want to ride past the Mole Hole. It’s not that much out of the way.”
“What do you expect to see there?”
“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”
“Are we going in?” Lula asked.
“Do you think we should?”
“I wouldn’t mind. We could get some of those curly cheese fries. We left in a hurry this morning. You were all worried about what’s-his-name.”
“Lou Salgusta.”
I was half a block from the Mole Hole and Lula leaned forward in her seat. “Look who’s coming out of the titty bar,” she said. “It’s the crazy woman that went down into the tunnel.”
I pulled to the side of the street and idled.
“She doesn’t look singed or anything,” Lula said. “Her hair isn’t smoking. Hard to tell from this distance but her shoes don’t even look muddy.”
The woman walked through the parking lot and got into a black Mercedes sports car. She pulled out of the lot and I followed her.
