I had a moment of scramble brain, followed by the sort of cold terror that only the criminally insane can inspire. And then I remembered the other item on the list. I needed to go to the bridal salon and get the bridesmaid dress fitted.
I ripped the note off the door and stuffed it into my bag. I returned to the kitchen, took my .45 out of the brown bear cookie jar, and spun the barrel. No bullets. I’d have to mooch some from Connie. I slipped the gun into the side pocket of my messenger bag, locked up my apartment, and took the stairs to the lobby.
I was a little freaked walking to the car. I didn’t feel good about the whole burning-and-soul-leaving-body thing, so I was looking around for incendiary devices and being careful.
I put Tiki on the seat next to me and took off for the office. “You have to help me out here,” I said to Tiki. “I can’t be distracted by donuts and margaritas. If I don’t stay sharp we could both could end up as a big pile of ashes.”
Traffic was light and fifteen minutes later I docked the Buick in front of the bonds office and called Ranger.
“I had a note tacked to my door this morning,” I told him, trying to keep my voice even. I didn’t want to sound like a freaked-out girl, but my hand was shaking as I read him the message.
“I got something similar,” Ranger said. “Would you consider staying with me until we solve this? It would be easier for me to keep you safe if you were under my roof.”
Very tempting. Ranger’s private apartment in the Rangeman building was beyond comfortable. It was professionally decorated in soothing earth shades. The furniture was all clean modern lines. The kitchen was sleek and stocked with food thanks to his housekeeper. The shower had limitless hot water and Bulgari Green shower gel. The king-size bed had thousand-thread-count sheets. And then there was Ranger. He was total eye candy and surprisingly easy to live with as long as you understood that his energy would always dominate his space. Not to mention Ranger in bed. If I allowed myself to think too long about Ranger in bed I’d be on the road to Rangeman, foot to the floor.
“Thanks for the offer but I’m going to pass,” I said. “It would be complicated.”
“Babe,” Ranger said. And he disconnected.
I looked over at Tiki. “You could have persuaded me,” I said. “Where are you when I need you?”
FIFTEEN
CONNIE WAS ON the phone when I walked into the office. Lula was on the couch, reading
“It’s the cellulite issue,” Lula said. “I love the cellulite issue.”
Connie got off the phone, typed something into her computer, and sat back. “The charges have been dropped on Dottie Luchek. The cop said he misunderstood her intentions.”
“Hah!” Lula said. “Translation is she ran into him again and gave him a free BJ.”
So my list had just gotten shorter.
“I’d like to take a look at Franz Sunshine,” I said, “but I can’t come up with an angle.”
“You could just walk up to him and come right out with it,” Lula said. “He’s a busy mogul. He might not know there’s a Yeti living in his investment property. He could be happy you brought it to his attention.”
I looked at Connie. “Do you think?”
Connie shrugged.
I hiked my bag higher onto my shoulder. “I’ll play it by ear.”
“Me too,” Lula said. “I’m going with you. I want to see what a Franz Sunshine looks like.”
FS Financials was located in a high-rise on State Street in the middle of town. I parked on the street, and Lula and I took the elevator to the fifth floor.
“This is a swanky building,” Lula said. “This Franz guy must be doing okay.”
FS Financials occupied half of the floor. The door was frosted glass with the lettering in gold. I had my hand on the doorknob, and I still had no idea what I’d say to Franz Sunshine.
“Well?” Lula asked.
“I’m thinking.”
“Honest to goodness,” Lula said. “What’s to think about? You just go in and make something up. You let me do it. I’m good at making things up. I used to make stuff up all the time when I was a ’ho. Like how you think it’s cute that their dick has a crook in it.”
“That might not be a good opener for Franz Sunshine,” I said.
“Well, I got a lot more than that,” Lula said, pushing the door open. “You just stand back.”
Lula was dressed in flaming fuchsia today with hair to match. Skin-tight short black spandex skirt, fuchsia cap-sleeve spandex top showing acres of cleavage, five-inch stiletto heels, and her fuchsia hair was frizzed out to about a two-foot diameter.
She marched into FS Financials and politely asked to see Mr. Sunshine. The woman at the desk asked if Lula had an appointment, and Lula said actually Mr. Sunshine had missed
“Yes, but you still need an appointment,” the woman said. “May I give him your name?”
“You certainly may,” Lula said. “It’s Lula, as in Tallulah. And you tell him that he’s gonna want to see me firsthand.”
Sixty seconds later Lula swung her ass into Sunshine’s office with me trailing behind.
“Howdy,” she said to Sunshine. “I appreciate your seeing me like this. I’m Lula and this here’s my associate Stephanie. I want to talk to you about The Clinic. What the heck does it do anyway?”
Sunshine was older than Grandma Mazur. He was a shrunken man with a wisp of hair plastered to the top of his head, and rosacea spread across his face like the map of Europe.
“It doesn’t do anything,” he said with a thick German accent. “I bought it cheap. It’s an investment.”
“Well, I’m looking for a place to start my business and someone told me you had the perfect place.”
“What kind of business are you starting?”
“I’m a ’ho,” Lula said. “And I’m looking for a ’ho house.”
“You thought The Clinic would make a good brothel?”
“Yeah. I was told it had lots of rooms, which is just what I’m looking for. I could have a wide variety of themes going on if you see what I’m saying. And it sits by itself at the end of the street so the neighbors wouldn’t be complaining about noise and such. Not that a ’ho is real noisy, but sometimes depending on what a customer wants you might get carried away fakin’ a orgasm. I drove by your property on the advice of my finance officer and it looked empty except for a car I saw go in.”
“I have a security guard.”
“This didn’t look like no security guard,” Lula said. “This was a lady with ’ho hair. So I thought maybe the building had a head start on my idea.”
“Not that I’m aware,” Sunshine said.
“You’ll have to excuse me if this is a offensive question,” Lula said. “But you got a real kraut accent, and it don’t go with the name Sunshine.”
“It’s the American equivalent to Sonnenschein. How much would you be willing to pay for my building?”
“How much do you want?” Lula asked.
“Ten million.”
“Say what? I’m a ’ho, not Donald Trump. I don’t got that kind of money. Would you be willing to hold a mortgage?”
“We should go now,” I said to Lula. “We have another appointment.”
“What appointment you talking about?” Lula asked.
“The appointment you made with your doctor for that rash you’ve got all over your . . . you-know-what.”
“Oh yeah, that appointment.”
