I plopped onto the couch. 'I need some addresses. I want to do some snooping.' Connie got a directory from the bookcase behind her. 'Who you need?'
'Spiro Stiva and Louie Moon.'
'Wouldn't want to look under the cushions in Spiro's house,' Connie said. 'Wouldn't look in his refrigerator, either.'
Lula grimaced. 'He the undertaker guy? Shoot, you aren't gonna do breaking and entering on an undertaker, are you?'
Connie wrote an address on a piece of paper and searched for the second name. I looked at the address she'd gotten for Spiro. 'You know where this is?'
'Century Court Apartments. You take Klockner to Demby.' Connie gave me the second address. 'I haven't a clue on this one. Somewhere in Hamilton Township.'
'What are you looking for?' Lula asked.
I stuffed the addresses into my pocket. 'I don't know. A key, maybe.' Or a couple crates of guns in the living room.
'Maybe I should come with you,' Lula said. 'Skinny ass like you shouldn't be sneaking around all by yourself.'
'I appreciate your offer,' I told her, 'but riding shotgun isn't part of your job description.'
'Don't think I got much of a job description,' Lula said. 'Seems to me I do whatever got to be done, and right now I've done it all unless I want to sweep the floor and scrub the toilet.'
'She's a filing maniac,' Connie said. 'She was born to file.'
'You haven't seen anything yet,' Lula said. 'Wait'll you see me be an assistant bounty hunter.'
'Go for it,' Connie said.
Lula packed herself into her jacket and grabbed her pocketbook. 'This is gonna be good,' she said. 'This is gonna be like Cagney and Lacey.'
I searched the big wall map for Moon's address. 'Okay by me if it's okay with Connie, but I want to be Cagney.'
'No way! I want to be Cagney,' Lula said.
'I said it first.'
Lula stuck her lower lip out and narrowed her eyes. 'Was my idea, and I'm not doing it if I can't be Cagney.'
I looked at her. 'We aren't serious about this, are we?'
'Hunh,' Lula said. 'Speak for yourself.'
I told Connie not to wait up, and held the front door for Lula. 'We're going to check out Louie Moon first,' I said to her.
Lula stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked at Big Blue. 'We going in this big motherfucker Buick?'
'Yep.'
'I knew a pimp once had a car like this.'
'It belonged to my uncle Sandor.'
'He a businessman?'
'Not that I know of.'
Louie Moon lived on the far perimeter of Hamilton Township. It was almost four when we turned onto Orchid Street. I counted off homes, searching for 216, amused that such an exotically named street had been blessed with a lineup of unimaginative crackerbox houses. It was a neighborhood built in the sixties when land was available, so the plots were large, making the two-bedroom ranches seem even smaller. Over the years homeowners had
