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Connie left and I opened the photo she’d sent. It had been taken in a dark room. There was a black object in the frame.
“I can’t make this out,” I said to Lula.
“We had the same problem,” Lula said. “I thought it was a giant bat at first. You know how they hang upside down with their wings folded around them. When you enlarge it a little you can see that it’s Vinnie. I figured it out because of his tight pants. See, at the top are his pointy-toed shoes.”
“Is this upside down?”
“No,” Lula said. “Vinnie is upside down. They got him trussed up and hanging from some kind of hook.”
I went light-headed and nauseous. I sat down, bent over, and told myself to breathe.
“I don’t think he’s dead,” Lula said. “I think he’s just hanging there. You can sort of see his face, and he looks angry. You know how he gets all squinty-eyed when he’s really pissed off.”
My phone rang and I saw that it was Ranger.
“We enhanced the picture,” he said. “It looks like they’ve got Vinnie in some sort of industrial building. The wall behind him is grainy. It’s the sort of concrete wall that you might see in a commercial garage. They have him bound with duct tape and hanging from a hook that you would find in a restaurant freezer or a meatpacking plant. They also use hooks like that in certain conveyor systems.”
“Do you think he’s okay?”
“He’s dangling upside-down from a hook,” Ranger said. “I don’t think he’s happy. I’m going to send someone out to scout around some industrial areas. In the meantime, you need to be careful. Hal said the bus got moved to the alley. We have a camera back there and I have a car on Hamilton, but there’s still more risk for you parked in the back lot. I wouldn’t want you there at night.”
“Understood. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Yes. You can learn how to shoot a gun without knocking yourself out. I don’t have any time today, but Tank has an hour to give you instruction. Meet him in my rifle range at three o’clock.”
Ranger and Tank were in Special Forces together. Ranger was point and Tank watched his back. This is still their relationship. I’ve seen pictures of Tank when he was a kid. He was built like a tank when he was four years old, and that’s always how he’s beenknown. Tank. I suppose he has another name, but I don’t know what it is. He’s big and tough and he has a cat named Fluffy.
Lula looked at me when I hung up. “What?”
“I’m getting firearms instruction at three o’clock.”
“From Ranger?”
“From Tank.”
“Hah!” Lula said. “Poor Tank. You’re one of those hopeless gun people. You haven’t got good gun juju. Some people have it and some don’t. I’m lucky I’ve got it. I naturally take to guns. I don’t need instruction. I let my instincts take over and I point and shoot. I’ve got instincts up my gazoo.”
I’ve seen Lula miss a target that was three feet away. Probably one’s gazoo isn’t a good place to store instincts.
Connie hustled into the bus with bags of food from the deli. “I’ve got pastrami on rye for Lula, grilled cheese with bacon for Stephanie, and a bunch of extras. Coleslaw, macaroni salad, some chips, they threw in some extra pickles, and there’s three-bean salad that Gina made fresh this morning.”
There was only room for two people at the dining table, so I ate standing up at the sink.
“Who did you bond out?” Lula asked Connie.
“Some guy who caused a scene at the coffee shop on Third. He was barking like a dog, and he bit a couple people. His eighty-year-old mother was in court with him. She signed for the bond. She said he got rambunctious when he didn’t take his meds.”
“I like it,” Lula said. “We need more crimes like that instead of the same old rape, murder, and armed robbery stuff.”
“Anything interesting happen here?” Connie asked.
“Stephanie’s getting shooting lessons this afternoon,” Lula said.
Connie stopped eating. “Really?”
“Ranger set it up with Tank,” Lula said. “Remember when Stephanie decided to clean her gun in the dishwasher?”
Truth is, I still don’t know how to clean a gun, but I know enough not to put it in the dishwasher.
