expertise in alternative sexual behavior.
“Moses Bedemier is a flaming fruit,” Vinnie said, his face wreathed in happiness, his hands jiggling change in the deep pockets of his pleated polyester slacks. “Moses Bedemier wears ladies’ panties.”
Vincent Plum, bail bonds. Specializing in sensitivity and political correctness.
I turned to Lula. “I thought you said Mo was a customer.”
“Unh-uh. I said I knew him. Sometimes when I was on the corner he’d ride by late at night and ask directions of Jackie or me. He’d want to know where to find Freddie the Frog or Little Lionel. I figure he do some drugs.”
“Oh my God,” Connie said. “A homosexual and a drug user. Oh my God.”
“How do you know?” I asked Vinnie.
“I’d heard rumors. And then I saw him and his significant other having dinner in New Hope a couple months ago.”
“How do you know it was a significant other and not just a friend?”
“What, you want details?” Vinnie said, smiling wide, enjoying the moment.
I grimaced and shook my head, no.
Connie squeezed her eyes shut tight.
“Yo ass,” Lula said.
“Do you have a name?” I asked Vinnie. “What’s this guy look like?”
“The guy was Mo’s age. Smaller, slimmer. Soft, like Mo. Dark hair, bald on top. I don’t have a name, but I can make some phone calls.”
I didn’t give much credence to the drug buyer theory, but I wouldn’t want it to be said I’d left a stone unturned. When Lula was hooking she’d plied her trade on Stark Street, a mile-long strip of bars and crack houses and row houses converted to airless apartments and rooms to let. It’d be a waste of time for me to canvass Stark Street. No one would talk to me. That left me with two alternatives. Lula was one of them. Ranger was the other.
CHAPTER 4
I could ask Ranger to make inquiries on Mo. Or I could ask Lula. This was a dilemma, being that Ranger would be my first choice, but Lula was here in front of me, on the scent, reading my mind.
“Well?” Lula asked. Shifting her weight. Nervous. Belligerent. Rhino mode. Looking like her feelings would be hurt if I didn’t ask her to work with me. Looking like at any moment she might narrow her eyes and squash me like a bug.
So I was beginning to see the wisdom of using Lula. No point to hurting her feelings, right? And probably Lula would be cool with this. I mean, what was the big deal? All she had to do was show Mo’s picture to a few drug dealers and hookers. So she wasn’t subtle. Hey, was that a crime?
“You have a lot of contacts on Stark Street,” I said to Lula. “Maybe you could flash Mo’s picture. See if someone can give us a lead.”
Lula’s face brightened. “You bet. I could do that.”
“Yeah,” Vinnie said. “Get her out of the office for a while. She makes me nervous.”
“You should be nervous,” Lula told him. “I’m keeping my eye on your sad ass. You better not trifle with me, mister.”
Vinnie set his teeth, and I thought I saw wisps of steam curl out of his ears and evaporate off the top of his head. But maybe it was just my imagination.
“I’ll make some phone calls. I’ll see if I can get a name for Mo’s boyfriend,” Vinnie said, retreating into his private lair, slamming the door behind him.
Lula had one arm rammed into her coat. “And I’m gonna get right on this. I’m gonna detect the shit out of this case.”
With everyone else in motion, there didn’t seem to be much for me to do. I retraced my steps back to my Buick and drove home on autopilot. I pulled into the lot to my apartment building and looked up at my window. I’d left the light burning in my bedroom, and it was all cheerful and welcoming now. A rectangle of comfort floating high above the gray miasma of morning ice smog.
Mr. Kleinschmidt was in the lobby when I swung through the double glass doors.
“Ho,” Mr. Kleinschmidt said. “It’s the early bounty hunter that catches the worm. Tracking down a ruthless murderer today?”
“Nope. No murderers,” I said.
“Drug dealer? Rapist?”
“Nope. Nope.”
“Who then? What gets you up and out so early?”
“Actually, I’m looking for Moses Bedemier.”
“That’s not funny,” Mr. Kleinschmidt said. “That’s not a good joke. I know Moses Bedemier. Mo would never do anything bad. I think you should look for someone else.”
I stepped into the elevator and pushed the second-floor button. I gave Mr. Kleinschmidt a little finger-wave good-bye, but he didn’t wave back.
