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Grandma helped herself to a slice of the coffee cake. “What’s happening with Nutsy?”
“I found him and then I lost him,” I said.
Not a total lie. It was just that I lost him in my apartment. Sometimes Grandma had a hard time with keeping secrets, and I didn’t want to put Nutsy in jeopardy.
“The word on the street is that Plover is going a little wacko,” Grandma said. “Looking very nervous. Hired a new security guard and this one is armed.”
I could believe it. I had twelve text messages from him demanding action on Nutsy. The last one said,Get him or else!I had no clue whator elsereferred to.
I took a seat at the table and grabbed a jelly doughnut. Sundayis usually an odd day for me. The office and the courts are closed, but Lula and I frequently work anyway. Lots of times it’s because we haven’t got anything better to do. Most of the time it’s because we need the money. And some of the time it’s because we actually have a viable lead.
“Do you have any other fun news?” I asked Grandma.
“Veronica Shidig died. Aneurysm.”
I didn’t know Veronica Shidig.
“Anything else?” I asked her.
“It’s been a slow week. The best part was your mother chasing after Nutsy.”
“He cheated by cutting through that lot,” my mother said.
“You were a maniac,” Grandma said to my mother. “You were awesome. You were like a NASCAR driver.”
“I agree,” I said to my mom. “You were awesome.”
“I took the mirrors off the Camry,” my mom said.
“Just like NASCAR,” Grandma said. “Those guys are trashing cars all the time. They just pit and put some tape on the broken parts and keep going. If I was younger, and I had a driver’s license, I’d want to be a NASCAR driver. Some people want to be astronauts, but an astronaut just sits in a cushy seat and gets blasted into space. A NASCAR driver has skills and guts. Only way you could make a race more exciting would be to have the drivers naked. Now, that would be something.”
We all thought about that for a minute. Naked NASCAR drivers.
“The Romans used to have naked sporting events all the time,” Grandma said. “Those were the days.”
The conversation stopped when my father came in for a jelly doughnut and to refill his coffee mug.
“What’s for dinner tonight?” he asked.
“Roast chicken and apple pie,” my mom said.
This has been the answer for as long as I could remember. Roast chicken on Sunday, pot roast on Friday. The rest of the week was up for grabs.
I was on my second jelly doughnut when my phone rang. Lula wanted to go back to her apartment and Nutsy wanted to get his Yamaha.
“I have to go,” I said. “Things to do.”
My mom put the shortbread cookies in a plastic baggie and gave them to me. “I know you like these,” she said.
I hugged my mom and Grandma. Grandma gave Bob a kiss on the top of his head, and I left.
Lula and Nutsy were waiting at the building’s back door when I drove into the lot. Lula got into the front with me and Nutsy got into the back with Bob.
I drove across town and dropped Nutsy off at Sissy’s house. Nutsy went straight to his bike, removed the cover, and took off for who-knows-where. I didn’t see anyone in the vicinity doing surveillance. I assumed Nutsy was safe.
“Considering he’s a clown, he isn’t a barrel of laughs,” Lula said. “Of course, he said he’s more of a mime, and they’re sort of creepy.”
Next stop was Lula’s apartment house. There was still sooty water in the gutters and the crime scene tape hadn’t been removed. A lone car was parked in front of the house. The fire marshal was working early. Probably had plans for later in the day. I parked behind the fire marshal’s car, and Lula, Bob, and I got out.
