“I feel like I got rat cooties,” Lula said. “I bet I got fleas. And I think one of them bit me on the ankle.”
I examined Lula’s ankles. No bite marks.
“It must have been one of those bites that don’t show,” Lula said, “on account of I’m coming down with something. I can feel it. Lord, I hope it’s not the plague. I don’t want the plague. You break out in them booboos when you got the plague.”
“I don’t see any booboos on you,” I told her.
“Well, it’s still early,” Lula said.
Better booboos than Buggy, I thought, hiking my bag onto my shoulder. “I’m heading out. I’m going to look for Magpie.”
“I’ll go with you,” Lula said. “Only I gotta get something to settle my stomach. I gotta keep my strength up in case I get the plague. I need chicken.”
• • •
I cruised into the Cluck-in-a-Bucket drive-thru and Lula got a bucket of extra-crispy, a bag of biscuits with dipping gravy, an apple pie, and a large diet root beer. I helped myself to a piece of chicken, and I got a text message from Brenda.
Thanks for everything. I’ll send you the formula for your hair.
I texted her back and asked if she was at the salon and could she do my hair.
Negative, she texted. Arrivederci.
“Change of plans,” I said to Lula. “Brenda’s running.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know. I’m going to see if I can talk her out of it.”
Forty minutes later, I was about to turn off Route 1 into Brenda’s neighborhood when her toaster zipped out in front of me. There were four cars between us, but I knew it was Brenda.
“You want me to call her?” Lula asked.
“No. Let’s see where she’s going.”
She took Route 1 to Route 18, and got onto the Turnpike heading north. It was clear where she was going. She was going to the airport, and Jason was in the car with her.
“Maybe she’s just taking her kid,” Lula said. “He’s still hiding, right?”
“It’s possible.”
I followed her to the short-term parking garage and watched from a distance while she took suitcases out of the Scion. They walked toward the terminal, dragging their luggage. It didn’t look to me like she even bothered to lock the car. I knew she was jumping bail.
I found a parking place, and Lula and I hustled to catch up with Brenda. A man was a short distance away, walking toward us. He was carrying a suiter, looking very tanned.
It was The Rug. Simon Ruguzzi. The skip responsible for all my problems in Hawaii. Our eyes met, and he dropped the suiter and took off.
Brenda was worth loose change to Vinnie. The Rug was worth big bucks.
I changed course in the middle of the parking garage and ran for Ruguzzi. I could hear Lula clattering in her heels behind me, and I was gaining on the guy in front of me. I got to within a couple feet of him, took a flying leap, and grabbed his pants cuffs. He went to the ground, and Lula rushed over and sat on him. I cuffed him and dragged him to his feet.
“How’d you know to run?” I asked him.
“You’re famous,” he said. “I saw you on the side of a bus, in an ad for the bonds office.”
Vinnie’s brilliant idea, and not a highlight in my life.
I loaded The Rug into the backseat and headed back to Trenton. I called Ranger from the road.
“I just captured The Rug,” I told him. “I had a feeling Brenda was going to skip, so I followed her to the airport. I ran into Ruguzzi in the parking garage, and Lula and I took him down.”
“Babe,” Ranger said.
• • •
It was late afternoon by the time I met Vinnie at the coffee shop.
“Sorry about Brenda,” I said. “I’m pretty sure she skipped.”
“I was counting on it,” Vinnie said. “She put her Ferrari up for bond. Now I can give it to DeAngelo.”
“It’s hot,” I told him. “And it doesn’t come with keys.”
“Don’t care,” Vinnie said. “That’s DeAngelo’s problem. I’ll send it to him on a flatbed.”
I got a Frappuccino and got into my truck. Magpie would wait for another day. Truth is, I was rolling in money from my Ruguzzi capture. I stopped at my parents’ house on the way home.
“Looks like you tore the knees out of your jeans,” Grandma said.
I followed her into the kitchen. “Occupational hazard.”
“Are you staying for dinner?” my mom asked.
“No. I need to go home and take a shower and change my clothes.”
I’d been pelted by rats, plus I’d skidded across about five feet of cement when I tackled The Rug. I didn’t think she wanted to know the details.