"Guess Bob's got a sweet tooth," Grandma said.
I shook my finger at him. "That was rude. And besides, you'll get fat."
Bob wagged his tail.
"He might not be too smart," Grandma said.
Smart enough to eat the cake.
Grandma had a driving lesson scheduled for nine o'clock. "I'm probably gonna be gone all day," she said. "So don't worry if you don't see me. After my driving lesson I'm going to the mall with Louise Greeber. And then we're gonna look at some more apartments. If you want, I can stop and get some ground beef this afternoon. I thought a meatloaf might be nice for supper."
Major guilt trip coming on. Grandma was doing all the cooking. "My turn," I told her. "I'll make the meatloaf."
"I didn't know you could cook meatloaf."
"Sure," I said. "I can cook lots of stuff." A big lie. I can cook nothing.
I gave Bob a dog treat, and Grandma and I left together. Halfway down the hall, Grandma stopped. "What's that sound?" she asked.
We both listened. Bob was howling on the other side of my door.
My next-door neighbor, Mrs. Karwatt, stuck her head out. "What's that sound?"
"It's Bob," Grandma said. "He don't like being at home alone."
Ten minutes later I was on the road with Bob riding shotgun, head out the window, ears flapping in the wind.
"Uh-oh," Lula said when we walked in the office. "Who's this?"
"His name's Bob. I'm dog-sitting him."
"Oh yeah? What kind of dog is he?"
"Golden retriever."
"He looks like he been under the blow-dryer too long."
I smoothed some of his hair down. "He had his head out the window."
"That'll do it," Lula said.
I let Bob off the leash and he ran over to Lula and did the crotch thing again.
"Hey," Lula said, "back off, you're getting nose prints all over my new pants." She gave Bob a pat on the head. "He keep this up, and we're gonna have to pimp him out."
I used Connie's phone to call my friend Marilyn Truro at the DMV. "I need to run a plate through," I said. "Do you have time?"
"Are you kidding me? There are forty people standing in line. They see me talking on the phone, and they'll go postal." She spoke more softly. "Is this for a case? Is this for a murderer or something?"
"It might tie in to the Ramos murder."
"Are you shitting me? That is so cool."
I gave her the number.
"Hold on," she said. There was some clicking of computer keys, and Marilyn came back on. "The plate belongs to Terry Gilman. Isn't she working for Vito Grizolli?"
I was momentarily speechless. Next to Joyce Barnhardt, I disliked Terry Gilman most. For lack of a better term, she'd dated Joe in high school, and I had a feeling she wouldn't mind resuming the relationship. Terry worked for her Uncle Vito Grizolli now, which put a crimp in her Joe designs, since Joe was in the business of stamping out crime, and Vito was in the business of producing it.
"Uh-oh," Lula said. "Did I hear you right? Are you sticking your big fat nose in the Ramos case?"
"Well, I happened to run across-"
Lula's eyes widened. "You're working for Ranger!"
Vinnie popped out of his inner office. "Is that true? Are you working for Ranger?"
"No. It's not true. There's not a shred of truth to it." Well, what the hell-what's one more lie?
The front door crashed open and Joyce Barnhardt stomped in.
Lula, Connie, and I all ran to get Bob on the leash.
"You dumb bitch," Joyce yelled at me. "You sent me on a wild goose chase. Ranger doesn't have a sister working at the Macko Coat Factory."
"Maybe she quit," I said.
"Yeah," Lula said, "people quit all the time."
Joyce looked down at Bob. "What's this?"
"It's a dog," I said, shortening his lead.
"Why's his hair standing up like that?"
From the woman who adds five inches to her height with a rat-tail comb.
"Beside the wild goose chase, how're you doin' on the Ranger hunt?" Lula asked. "You track him down yet?"
"Not yet, but I'm getting close."
"I think you're fibbing," Lula said. "I bet you don't have anything."
And I bet you don't have a waistline," Joyce said.
Lula leaned forward. "Oh yeah? If I throw a stick, will you go fetch it?"
Bob wagged his tail.
"Maybe later," I told him.
Vinnie popped back out of his office. "What's going on out here? I can't hear myself think."
Lula, Connie, and I all exchanged glances and bit down hard on our lower lips.
"Vinnie!" Joyce cooed, pointing her C cups in his direction. "Looking good, Vinnie."