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“Not stealing,” Gloria said. “It’s shoplifting, and if you’re a senior or destitute, it falls into the RAM program. Redistribution of Available Merchandise. It supplements Social Security and Medicare. It’s an entitlement program.”
“I never heard of that program,” Lula said, “but I know a lot of people who participate. Most of them are in jail.”
The doors to the dining room opened and everyone surged forward.
“It’s been lovely chatting with you, but I have to go,” Gloria said. “If you aren’t at the front of the line there’s no more carrot cake left for dessert and Jack Hestler coughs on everything. You always want to be ahead of Jack.”
I stepped away from the lunch line and headed for the elevator.
“What are we going to do with Gloria?” Lula asked. “Are you going to come back after lunch and put her in cuffs?”
“No,” I said. “I’m going to leave and never come back. If Vinnie wants to apprehend her, that’s his problem.”
“Is that on account of RAM?”
“No. I’m walking away because she’s not going to cooperate,and I’ll look like I’m abusing the elderly and I’ll feel like a jerk if I put her in cuffs and drag her out of the building.”
“Yeah, it could be hard to get her out of here. Not to mention, these old folks stick together. They could turn into an angry mob. And what are we supposed to do if they try to run us over with their scooters? We’d probably get into trouble if we shoot at them.”
“No doubt.”
CHAPTER NINE
Bob was panting and drooling on the side window when we reached my Cherokee. I let him out, he lifted his leg, relieved himself on my left rear tire, and jumped back into the car.
“We should be thinking about lunch,” Lula said. “Bob looks hungry.”
“What do you think Bob would like for lunch?”
“He wants chicken salad from that bakery and deli on Nottingham. We passed it on our way in. They make excellent chicken salad, and they make fries with duck fat. Duck-fat fries are the next-best thing to an orgasm.”
My sex life had been skimpy lately with Morelli working overtime and flying off to Miami, so a runner-up to an orgasm had a lot of appeal.
Fifteen minutes later I parked in the lot next to the deli.
“I’ll wait out here with Bob,” I said to Lula. “Get chicken salad on a croissant for Bob and one for me, and make sure mine comes with extra fries.”
When Lula came back to the SUV she had chicken salad croissants for everyone plus a big bucket of fries, coleslaw, chips, drinks, and a white bakery box filled with pastries.
“I had a hard time making choices in there,” she said. “This is a five-star deli-bakery.”
We tailgated off the Cherokee, and Bob was done with his croissant before I finished unwrapping mine. I gave him a handful of fries on a napkin and told him he had to pace himself.
“He keeps eating like that and he’s going to get acid reflux,” Lula said. “He’s gotta learn to savor.”
Halfway through my croissant I looked down at Bob. The French fries were long gone and so was the napkin.
“Can’t blame him for eating the napkin,” Lula said. “It probably had soaked up duck fat. I might have eaten it too.”
I finished up with an apple tart and Lula grazed through the rest of the box on the way to the office.
“I’m going to leave you and Bob at the office,” I said. “I promised Mrs. Manley I’d take her cats to the vet for their checkup.”
“You’re a good person to offer to do that,” Lula said.
“I got suckered into it.”
“Still, you’re living up to your promise.” Lula stopped eating and leaned forward. “I could swear that’s Farcus Trundle’s truck two cars in front of us. It’s a big black truck with the back sort of dented in from where he shoved you out of his driveway.”
