THIRTY-ONE
I TOOK LULA across town and parked opposite Buster’s building.
“It isn’t even eleven o’clock and already there’s a line here,” Lula said. “Ordinarily I don’t do lines, but this is different. I bet I could eat a whole pie. What kind are you going to get?”
“I’m going to skip the pizza. I just had a peanut butter sandwich. I’ll wait here with the critters.”
Lula got into line, and I relaxed in Ranger’s Mercedes. Vlatko was out of the picture. Ranger was safe. I was wearing my own underwear. Life was good.
A Camaro with tinted windows parked on the other side of the street, two doors down from Buster. The driver got out, walked to Buster’s door, unlocked the door with a key, and let himself in. The man was stocky. Black hair, dark skin. T-shirt and jeans. Hoodie over the T-shirt. Odd, since it was almost eighty degrees. My first thought was that he was hiding a gun. My second thought was that I needed a new life because lately I thought everybody was packing a gun, and I was usually right.
Lula hustled out of the pizza place with a big pizza box.
“Fresh out of the oven,” Lula said. “I had to pay extra for it because they said they were in a position where they had to pay extra for the herbs. Not that I care, because you know how important herbs are in pizza.”
She opened the lid and I looked at the pizza. It was spectacular.
“Maybe just one piece,” I said.
“Help yourself.”
I took a bite and sighed. “Yum.”
“You can say that again. This here’s my favorite pizza place of all time. It’s got something special about it. It must be those herbs.”
I looked at the pizza. Basil leaves, oregano, something else.
“You see these green things?” I asked Lula. “What are they?”
“Herbs.”
“Yes, but what kind?”
“I’m not actually up on my herbs,” Lula said.
I suspected it was weed. Anything this good had to be illegal. I picked them off my piece.
The dogs were restless in the back of the SUV.
“I’m going to walk the pack,” I said.
“You need help?”
“I’ll be fine. Briggs has been working with them, and they’re much better on the leash. Stay here and enjoy the pizza.”
I walked one block toward State Street and turned the corner. I knew there was an empty lot with some scraggly grass halfway down the block. I got to the lot and commanded the dogs to tinkle. They didn’t look immediately motivated, so I walked them around a little on the grass and got most of them emptied out. I came back to the Mercedes and found a note on Lula’s seat.
Got tired of sitting here so I took the last two pieces of pizza to Buster. Maybe I can get him to adopt a dog. Bring the dogs up when you get back.
Crap.
I looked up at Buster’s windows and called Lula. No answer. I didn’t trust Buster, and I had no idea what was going on with the hoodie guy. He didn’t look any different from the rest of the men on the street, but truth is, those guys were sort of scary-looking.
I crossed the street and pushed the intercom buzzer. No answer. I pushed it again.
“Yes,” someone said. Not Buster.
“Is Buster there?”
“No. Come back later.”
The intercom went dead.
I leaned on the button.
“What?”
“Is Lula there?” I asked.
“Who?”