“We’ll have a reasonable conversation with Mr. Trundle.”
I didn’t really believe anyone could have a reasonable conversation with Farcus Trundle, but it was one of those things you told yourself, so you didn’t prematurely hyperventilate.
Lula, Bob, and I walked to Trundle’s front door, and I knocked. No one answered, so Lula looked in the front windows.
“I don’t see anyone in there, alive or dead,” Lula said. “There’s a roach, sneakers up, on the window ledge. Are we going to bust the door down and look around?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I said.
“Good call,” Lula said. “I only want to see the doghouse anyways.”
We walked around the side of the house to the backyard. A rusted-out Weber grill was next to the back door. The yard was mostly hard-packed dirt. A prefab igloo-type doghouse was at the back of the area designated as yard.
“That dome thing must be it,” Lula said. “It doesn’t look big enough for an old lady and a dog. And I’m thinking that it had to be a little old lady. Even then she’d have to curl herself up in it.”
“The police report said the woman was chained to the doghouse, but I don’t see a chain,” I said to Lula.
“There’s also no dog.”
Bob was beside me, looking bored, leading me to believe that there hadn’t been a dog here in a long time.
I looked in the windows in the back of the house. I tried the back door. Unlocked. I hadn’t intended to do a house search, but this was tempting. I stepped inside and shouted for Farcus. No answer. I was in the kitchen and there wasn’t a lot to see.
“This house smells old,” Lula said. “And the kitchen doesn’t look like it gets a lot of use.” She opened the refrigerator door. “He’s got an onion and a squeeze bottle of mayo in here. There’s not even any beer. Hard to believe a man with a name like Farcus could get along without beer.”
We did a quick walk-through and left.
“He didn’t even have a lot of clothes there,” Lula said. “A winter jacket and some boots. So, what’s up next?”
“I want to talk to the victim.”
“The doghouse lady? I like that idea. I got some questions. I want to know what it’s like to live in a doghouse.”
I called Connie and asked her to get me an address for the kidnapped woman. Minutes later the text message came into my phone.
“Her name is Marjorie Katz,” I said to Lula. “She lives on Miran Street.”
We plugged the address into my GPS and in a half hour we were in another world. Large professionally maintained lawns, perfectly paved circular driveways, large colonial-style houses, shiny expensive cars lounging in front of four-car garages. I pulled into the Katz driveway and parked behind a black Mercedes.
“This is a long way from a doghouse,” Lula said.
A slim woman answered the door. Her silver hair was cut short and styled in soft waves. Her nails were lavender and beautifully manicured. She was wearing a dress I could never afford and her low heels had the Chanel logo on them.
I introduced myself and asked if Marjorie Katz was at home.
“I’m Marjorie Katz,” she said. “What is this about?”
“I’m looking for Farcus Trundle. He’s in violation of his bond agreement. You were listed on his booking sheet.”
“It said you were robbed and kidnapped,” Lula said. “And chained to a doghouse.”
Marjorie Katz closed her eyes for a beat. “Hideous, horrible, awful man. He’s a disgusting human being.” Her eyes narrowed. “He chained me to a doghouse. It was terrible.” She lowered her voice. “He dropped his pants and showed me his one-eyed snake.”
“Omigod,” Lula said. “He had a snake in his pants? That’s sick.”
“No,” Marjorie said, “I’m talking about Willy Winky.”
Lula was blank faced. “Say what?”
Marjorie rolled her eyes. “His wiggle stick, baloney pony, wrinkle beast, tadger.”
“His dick,” I said to Lula.
Lula went wide-eyed at Marjorie. “Seriously? Where’d you learn all those words for a dick?”
“I was a librarian,” Marjorie said.
“Well, I was a ho,” Lula said. “And we never called it any of those things.”
“We just came from Trundle’s house, and it didn’t look like anyone was living there,” I said to Marjorie.
“I assumed he was, but I don’t really know. He chained me up, waved his chubby at me, and left.”
“Chubby,” Lula said. “That’s another good one. I’ve gotta remember these.”
“Is there anything else that you could tell me about Trundle?” I said. “What kind of car did he drive?”
“He drove my car,” Marjorie said. “I withdrew money from the ATM on Willow Street and when I went to my car, he walked over to me, put a gun to my head, and took my purse with the money in it. It was such a shock that I just stood there. I didn’t shout for the police. I didn’t run. I didn’t do anything. It was like my brain went numb and my heart stopped beating.”
“Understandable,” Lula said. “It’s obvious you’re a refined lady and not used to dealing with scumbags threatening you with deadly force.”
“Yes,” Marjorie said. “I suppose that’s it.”
“Stephanie and me are professionals, and we’re used to these sorts of things,” Lula said.
Marjorie nodded. “After he took my purse, he walked away. Just a couple steps. And then he turned around and pointed the gun at me again and told me to open the trunk. I opened the trunk, and the next thing I knew, I was in the trunk and the car was moving. The car stopped, he opened the trunk and dragged me out. And we were in his backyard. He drove my Mercedes into his backyard. He didn’t have a driveway or anything. It was just dirt.”
“I bet he stun-gunned you,” Lula said. “That’s what I would do if I wanted to get someone into a trunk.”
“Honestly,” Marjorie said. “What’s this world come to? What’s wrong with people that they think it’s okay to throw a woman in the trunk of her Mercedes and drive off with it? People like that should be locked away.”
“I totally agree,” Lula said. “And if you don’t mind my asking, what was it like living in a doghouse?”
“I didn’t live in the doghouse,” she said. “There was a chain attached to a big eye screw that had been screwed into the ground in front of the doghouse. He wrapped the end of the chain around my ankle and padlocked it. He said he was originally just going to rob me, but he got to thinking that anyone who drove a Mercedes and had diamond earrings would be good to ransom. Then he made me give him my earrings and he drove away in my car. As soon as he was out of sight, I started working to get free.”
“How did you do that?” Lula asked. “Did you have a secret cell phone on you?”
“No. The eye screw wasn’t cemented in. I was able to work it loose.”
“Did it take you days to get it loose?” Lula asked.
“No,” Marjorie said. “About twenty minutes, I think. I was motivated to get out of there before he came back.”