I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled off to the bathroom. The sun was shining, and the day had started without me. I took a fast shower with the hopes of waking up. I got dressed in my usual uniform of T-shirt and jeans. I went to the bed and looked down at Bob. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t moving. It had been a long night for both of us. It had been after midnight when Bob made his final trek down to the parking lot.
“Time to get up,” I said. “We have things to do. You should have breakfast. You’ll feel better.”
Bob plodded after me, into the kitchen.
“Do you have to go out first?” I asked him.
Bob looked at the door and then he looked at me. He didn’t move.
“Okay then,” I said. “I’m going to take that as a no.”
I filled Bob’s bowl with dog kibble, and I stared into the refrigerator for a couple beats. Nothing jumped out at me, so I settled on a frozen waffle with peanut butter. When in doubt, there’s always peanut butter.
“I’m sorry about the cheese last night,” I said to Bob. “I didn’t know you were lactose intolerant.”
Bob gobbled his dog kibble and came to me for some ear scratches. Bob wasn’t the sort of dog who held a grudge. I gave Rex fresh water and filled his food cup with hamster food and a peanut. This concluded my duties as earth mother. I hooked Bob up to his leash and we went downstairs.
The Buick was gone and in its place was a shiny black Ford Explorer. It was a Rangeman fleet car. This wasn’t the first time Ranger had left a car for me, so I knew the drill. I reached under the right front wheel well and removed two keys. One for the car and one for the locked gun box under the driver’s seat. The note on the passenger seat told me that Big Blue had been returned to my parents’ garage. I got behind the wheel and texted a single word to Ranger. Thanks.
“This is going to be an excellent day,” I said to Bob. “My black eyes are turning green and orange, and my nose isn’t swollen anymore. In a couple days I’ll be as good as new. I have a nice car to drive, and I think I’m closing in on Nutsy and Duncan Dugan.”
When Bob and I walked into the office, Lula was on the couch with her iPad, Connie was at her desk, and Vinnie’s door was closed.
“Is he here?” I asked Connie.
“No,” she said. “He’s downtown, bailing someone out.”
I got coffee and returned to the desk.
“Your Jeep got picked up,” Connie said. “Sanchez emailed me last night. I printed it out for you.” She handed me the email. “Bottom line is that your frame is bent, there’s massive bodywork to be done, and the thing that was lying on the ground was critical to the performance of the car. He also said that the car smells like nothing he’s ever smelled before and doesn’t want to ever smell anything like that again. He said for a lot of money, he can fix everything but the smell. He’s suggesting you junk it.”
I stuffed the email into my messenger bag. “Tell him to junk it.”
“You don’t look unhappy about your car,” Lula said to me.
“I’m in a very good mood,” I said. “Every single traffic light was green for me this morning. And I didn’t get stuck behind a school bus. And I have a nice car to drive in place of my Jeep.”
Lula looked out the front window. “I’m thinking that’s a Rangeman car,” Lula said. “No wonder you’re in a good mood. Tell me you started your day taking care of business with Mr. Hot and Handsome.”
“Sorry, there was no business. He saw the Jeep getting winched onto Sanchez’s flatbed and he gave me a loaner.”
“Too bad,” Lula said. “It’d be good to know one of us was getting some. Grendel stole one of my dresses last night. It was from my Hawaii collection. And there’s a pink rabbit-fur jacket missing too. That dress is going to look terrible with that jacket. I don’t know what he was thinking. This ogre is out of control.”
“How do you know it was Grendel?” I asked.
“Who else would it be?” Lula said. “Everything was in place when I went to bed, and when I got up this morning, I was missing a dress and a jacket.”
“Did he wake you up with his breathing and growling?”
“No,” Lula said. “I slept through the night. He must have been extra sneaky.”
“So, you think Grendel is a cross-dresser,” Connie said.
“I don’t know what to think,” Lula said. “Just now, I’ve been reading about ogres, and there’s no mention of ogres being fashion-forward. It seems to me that the average ogre is a nasty bugger, but I think I could hold my own with one. I see them as being big but stupid with bad breath. Like, if an ogre is hungry, he could eat you, but I figure you could distract him with a sandwich or some cookies. So, I keep a plate of Oreos by me when I’m sleeping. Nobody can resist Oreos. Now, an ogre that’s a demon is a whole other ball game. A demon is evil. There’s no distracting evil. Not even with Oreos that are double stuffed. It’s the demon part of Grendel that worries me.”
“Did Grendel eat the cookies last night?”
“No, on account of I woke up at two o’clock to go to the bathroom and I was hungry when I got back to bed, and I ate the cookies.”
“It’s hard to imagine Grendel wearing your Hawaii dress,” I said.
“Maybe he doesn’t intend to wear it,” Lula said. “The demon part of him could want it for some voodoo ritual. He could be interested in harvesting my DNA off it to use for evil purposes. It would be hard to do because I haven’t worn that dress since it came back from the dry cleaner. Of course, Grendel had no way of knowing that.”
“You don’t seem to be terrified,” I said. “If something was showing up in my bedroom at night and I didn’t know who or what it was, I’d be terrified. What I’m seeing from you is that you’re annoyed because you can’t sleep and now it’s taking your clothes.”
“I was terrified in the beginning, but then nothing happened. I wasn’t attacked or anything. And on top of that I’m real brave.”
“Is it possible that you’re imagining all this?” Connie asked.
“It occurred to me,” Lula said. “Like maybe it was a dream. Or maybe it was too much tequila before bedtime.”
“And?” Connie asked.
“And I’m pretty sure it’s Grendel. There’s the brown hair on my carpet. I think it must have come off his hairy foot.”
“Grendel doesn’t wear shoes?” Connie asked.
“I’ve never seen his feet but it’s possible. Hobbits don’t wear shoes and they have hairy feet, so maybe ogres are like that too,” Lula said.