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“Who’s Stump?” Lula asked. “Why was he shot?”
I brought Lula up to speed on Marcus and Stump.
“That’s too bad about Ranger’s nose,” Lula said. “He had a perfect nose. I hope he’s not disfigured. And it explains the bloodstains on your T-shirt.”
“I didn’t get to see much of Stump,” Nutsy said. “He had hisback to me. And I never paid a lot of attention to what he was wearing.”
“Seems to me we need to find Marcus,” Lula said. “We should go to the train station and see if he’s still there. And we could order something from Pino’s as long as we’re out.”
“I’m game,” Nutsy said. “I’m tired of sitting here.”
I changed my shirt, Nutsy put pants on, and we piled into the Explorer.
“This is good,” Lula said. “It helps me to get my mind off Grendel.”
“I’d like to see Grendel,” Nutsy said. “It’s not every day that a character out of a video game comes to life.”
“According to Stephanie, he was real before the video game,” Lula said. “And you only want to see him because he isn’t after your body.”
“I’m thinking he must fall into the zombie category,” Nutsy said.
“I don’t like that thinking,” Lula said. “I’m not in favor of zombies. Bad enough he’s a demon.”
“You don’t really think he’s come alive from a video game, do you?” Nutsy asked.
“I guess not,” Lula said. “It’s like when you see a clown and he’s all done up so that you don’t really know what’s under the makeup and funny clothes. All I know is that this thing is scary, and he looks like Grendel.”
I drove around the train station and headed for the Catholic church on French Street. After an hour of searching with no results, Lula took matters into her own hands and ordered takeout for all of us from Pino’s.
“We should find out where the free food is being handed out,”Lula said, tucking into her meatball sub. “It looks like Marcus got spooked off the street today, but he might come out for soup and a sandwich.”
I’d had the same thought. He’d frequented the food truck that fed the hungry in the King Street area. That was no longer convenient to him, but I suspected there was food given out by the Catholic church. I finished my chicken Parm and headed back to French Street.
I was a block from the church when I saw a small group of men huddled around a van.
“That’s one of the vans that gives out food,” Lula said.
“And I see Marcus,” Nutsy said. “He’s off to the side with a drink and a sandwich.”
I drove past the van and parked around the corner, out of sight. I wanted to sneak up on Marcus, but there was the risk that he’d recognize Nutsy or me. And he’d definitely remember Bob.
“You go in first,” I said to Lula. “Keep him occupied so Nutsy and I can get close to him.”
We walked around the corner and didn’t see Marcus.
“Maybe someone knows him,” I said. “He must be crashing somewhere nearby.”
“I’ll go mingle,” Lula said. “I’ll use my finesse to fish out information.”
“I’ve tried talking to these people,” Nutsy said. “They don’t give up anything, and some of them are unhinged.”
“Yeah, but that’s because you’re you. I’m Lula. Leave this to me,” Lula said, adjusting her girls, giving them some fresh air to the point where her too-tight shocking-pink scoop-neck sweater barely covered her huge protruding nipples.
Here’s the thing. We all have skills, and we have an obligation to use them to the best of our ability. Some people are whizzes with math. Some people are musical prodigies. Some people can bake cakes. Some people can change a tire. Lula has breasts.
Nutsy watched Lula sashay over to the group of men. “Does she know what she’s doing?”
“Yep,” I said. “Stand down.”
