Lula searched through her huge purse, found the gun, and shoved it into the waistband of her black spandex skirt.
Forest Kottel’s photo was stapled to the second page of his file. Weathered face. Lots of tangled hair. Squinty eyes. His description had him at 5′ 10″ and 170 pounds. Caucasian. Connie had listed the color of his eyes as red.
We approached the first box and were at a loss what to do next. No doorbell. No name on the box. Lots more boxes in the alley. No way to know if there was something alive in the box.
“Knock, knock,” I said.
No answer.
“I’m not touching it,” Lula said. “That box got the skeebies. I can tell just by looking at it.”
I toed the box with my sneaker.
“Go away,” said someone from inside the box.
“I’m looking for Forest Kottel.”
“Well, you haven’t found him.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Sorry to disturb you. Have a nice day.”
“He lives in a box,” Lula said. “How nice could his day get?”
We tiptoed past several bedraggled tents and stopped at another box.
“Hello,” I said. “Anybody home?”
I walked around the box and looked inside through a door cut into the cardboard. Empty.
“Hey, look at that beauty of a box that’s alongside the dumpster,” Lula said. “It must be from one of them doublewide refrigerators. Now, that’s a box a man could be proud of.”
She took a step toward the box, and a little brown creature with big ears crept from behind the dumpster. It was followed by a second and then a third creature, all with teeth bared, softly growling.
“Chihuahuas!” Lula said. “It’s the rabid Chihuahuas from hell! Run for your life!”
Lula took off in her five-inch heels, waving her arms and shrieking, and I ran after her. She reached the Buick, wrenched the door open, and jumped inside.
“Did you see them?” she asked when I got behind the wheel. “Did you see their glowing eyes?”
“No. I didn’t see any glowing eyes.”
“They were from hell.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I think they were from someone’s cardboard box.”
“Yeah, but they looked ferocious.”
“They were only three pounds each.”
“Like big rats.”
“They didn’t look like rats. I thought they were kind of cute with their big ears.”
“I did like their ears,” Lula said. “But what about the creeping and growling?”
Okay, I had to admit I was freaked about the creeping and growling.
“Now that I’m thinking about it, I bet those dogs just need some bacon,” Lula said. “Everybody feels happy when they got bacon.”
“So you think if we gave them bacon, they’d be friendly?”
“Remember when we had to get past that alligator in whatshisname’s apartment? We just kept feeding him chicken wings. Our problem was we didn’t bring enough wings.”