Tricky Twenty-Two(61)
“Here I am,” Kenny said. “Right on time. I’m very punctual.”
Pooka turned to him. “Who is this?”
“He’s sort of my date,” I said. “By the way, did you kill Harry Getz?”
“There are no answers,” Pooka said. “There are only questions.”
He whirled around and left, taking the stairs.
“Who was that?” Kenny asked. “He was wearing pajamas.”
“It’s complicated.”
By eight o’clock Kenny and I decided we had nothing in common. He ordered an appletini and I had beer. He ate sushi and I had a burger. He watched PBS and I watched ESPN.
He dropped me off at my door and asked if I’d stun gun him if he tried to kiss me. I said yes, and he shook my hand and left.
TWENTY-TWO
I WAS LYING in bed wondering if I should just stay there all day, and a text message came in. It was from Lula saying she thinks my doorbell must be broken, because she’s at my door, and I’m not opening it.
I dragged myself out of bed and opened the door for her.
“You look like you just woke up,” Lula said.
“I had a horrible night. I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about fleas and plague. What time is it?”
“It’s almost ten o’clock. I just came from church, and I thought I’d stop in and find out about yesterday’s events.”
“You go to church?”
“Of course I go to church. I gotta compensate for all the things I do that would otherwise send me straight to hell.”
I went to the kitchen and got coffee going.
“Do you believe in God?” I asked Lula.
“Fuckin’ A I believe in God. Don’t you believe in God?”
“I believe in something. It’s vague.”
“You should come with me next week. I go to the Baptist church on State Street.”
“I’m Catholic.”
“That’s okay. We don’t care. Nobody’s perfect. Us Baptists say the more the merrier. We do some praying and singing and we praise the Lord. I’m all about the Lord. Especially on a Sunday morning.”
I put two frozen waffles in the toaster.
“That’s a new toaster,” Lula said.
“Morelli gave it to me. He used to like to have toast in the morning.”
“So tell me about yesterday. Last I saw you was when you were going over to see Ranger and you were all sexed up.”
“Ranger got me into Pooka’s apartment and the Zeta cellar.”
“How’d that go?”
“Pooka’s apartment is disgusting. He’s breeding fleas in aquariums, and he’s got a bag of blood in his refrigerator.”
“Say what?”
“I have no proof but I think Pooka might have intended to load the fireworks up with fleas and drop the fleas on the Kiltman campus.”
“Why’s he want to give everybody fleas?”
“Not sure.”
I couldn’t shake the possibility of plague, but I didn’t want to start a riot by telling Lula. I poured coffee for us, and we each took a waffle.
“You got maple syrup for this?” Lula asked.
“No.”
“Strawberry compote?”
“No.”
“What do you put on it?”
“I just eat it. I’m usually in a hurry.”
Gobbles called on my cellphone. “I started watching Pooka at six o’clock this morning just like always. You could set your clock by him seven days a week. He comes out at seven and goes to his office. He stays there until noon. Only he didn’t come out today. And then ten minutes ago he parked in front of his house in a junker van. He went in and immediately came out carrying a cardboard box. He went back in and got two aquariums, loaded it all in the back of the van, and took off. I couldn’t follow him. I haven’t got a car. Do you think I should break into his apartment? I think he’s moving out.”
“Wait for me. I’ll be right over.”
“What’s up?” Lula asked.
“It looks like Pooka is moving stuff out of his apartment.”
“The one with the fleas?”
“I need to get dressed. Put my coffee in a travel mug and give Rex a couple Cheerios. I’ll be right out.”
We took Lula’s car and made good time going across town. Not a lot of traffic on Sunday morning. Pooka’s street was quiet. Gobbles stepped from the side of a building when we parked.
“He hasn’t been back,” Gobbles said. “I went inside to take a look about five minutes ago and his door was locked.”
“How did you break in last time?” I asked him.
“I bumped the lock on the back door. I wouldn’t have done it, but I was hoping Becker was in there. I thought Pooka might have been holding Becker as a hostage. Or I guess I was half-afraid I’d find something awful.”