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CHAPTER SEVEN
I drove past Trundle’s property and went a quarter mile down the road, heading toward the junkyard. I picked out a black Range Rover parked in a driveway that led to a gray bungalow. I pulled to the side and grabbed Trundle’s file out of my bag. He’d listed his personal vehicle as a black Range Rover. I scanned the file and found Trundle’s license plate. It matched the plate on the SUV in the driveway.
“I don’t know if we’re so happy about this,” Lula said. “He doesn’t sound like such a nice guy.”
“True. But we know he’s not especially smart, so that gives us an advantage.”
“Yeah,” Lula said. “We’re totally smart. We got smart in spades. And I got a gun.”
I turned into the driveway and parked behind the Range Rover.
“You’re parking behind him so he can’t drive off,” Lula said to me. “That already shows how smart we are.”
I had a dilemma now. What to do with Bob. I didn’t want to bring him to the house and put him in harm’s way. I also didn’t want to leave him alone in the car one more time.
“This is the plan,” I said to Lula. “You take Bob and stay behind me when I go to the door. I don’t want to bring Bob into the house.”
“Yeah, but what if Farcus is in there and things get dangerous?”
“Then I especially don’t want Bob involved.”
I handed Bob’s leash to Lula, and I walked to the bungalow’s front door. I rang the bell and a woman answered. She was midforties with a mess of red hair and a nose ring. She was wearing a tank top that showed off some gym muscle and a lot of tattoos. She had diamond studs in her ears that were about two carats each.
“What?” she said.
“I’m looking for Farcus,” I said. “I saw his Range Rover in the driveway.”
“And?”
“I owe him some money,” I said. “He wasn’t at his house.”
“He isn’t here.”
“His car is here.”
The woman leaned to one side and looked behind me. “What’s with the dog and fatso?”
“Excuse me?” Lula said.
“No insult intended,” the woman said. “I happen to be a personal trainer and I could get that fat off you, in case you’re interested.”
“I’m not fat,” Lula said. “I’m a big voluptuous woman and you’re a skinny bitch. No insult intended.”
“None taken,” she said, “but you’ve gotta get the dog out of here. My Sally Belle doesn’t like other dogs.”
“What kind of dog is Sally Belle?” Lula asked.
“She’s a purebred poodle doodle,” the woman said. “And she’s very sensitive.”
“This here is Bob,” Lula said. “And he’s very orange.”
“About Farcus,” I said to the woman.
“I told you. Farcus isn’t here.”
“Then you wouldn’t mind if I look around.”
“Freaking A, I’d mind,” she said. “Take your orange dog and get your ass off my property.”
