“Thanks, but I’ve only got a minute. I just wanted to let you know I’m still looking for Mo Bedemier.”
I felt the climate shift, and Dorothy’s husband came to stand at her side.
“There are a lot of people in this community who’d prefer Mo wasn’t found,” Rostowski said.
My stomach clenched and for a chilling moment I thought he might pull out a gun or a knife or light up a cigarette and threaten me. My mind raced back to the phone call that had lured me to the candy store. Would I have recognized Dorothy’s voice on the phone? Would I have recognized Mrs. Molinowsky’s niece, Joyce, or Loretta Beeber, or my cousin Marjorie? And who were those men who were prepared to burn me and possibly kill me? Fathers of kids like these? Neighbors? Schoolmates? Maybe one of them had been Dorothy’s husband.
“What we’d really like is for all this to be over, so Mo could come back and reopen the store,” Dorothy said. “The kids miss him.”
I had a hard time hiding my astonishment. “Mo’s suspected of killing eight men!”
“Drug dealers,” Dorothy said.
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“It makes it better than okay. Mo should get a medal.”
“Killing people is wrong.”
Dorothy looked down at the floor, studying a spot just in front of her toe. Her voice dropped. “Theoretically I know that’s true, but I’m fed up with the drugs and the crime. If Mo wants to take matters in his own hands, I’m not going to rain on his parade.”
“I don’t suppose you’d call me if you saw Mo in the neighborhood?”
“Don’t suppose I would,” Dorothy said, still avoiding my eyes.
I crossed the street to talk to Mrs. Bartle.
She met me at the door with her arms crossed over her chest. Not good body language, I thought, taking a mental step backward.
“Is this about Mo?” she asked. “Because I’m going to tell you up front if he was running for president I’d be right there with my vote. It’s about time somebody did something about the drug problem in this country.”
“He’s suspected of killing eight men!”
“Too bad it isn’t more. Get rid of every last one of them dope pushers.”
On the way home I stopped in to see Connie and Lula. Connie was at her desk. Lula was out like a light on the couch.
“She had a tough morning,” I said to Connie. “Went running with Ranger and me. Then she got drilled with special sauce by a chicken.”
“So I hear.”
Lula opened an eye. “Hmmph.” She opened the other eye and took in the suit. “What are you all dressed up for?”
“Business. It’s a disguise.”
“How’s the Mo hunt going?” Connie wanted to know.
“Picking up. Ranger got his car back.”
This got Lula to her feet. “Say what?”
I told them about the two visits to Mrs. Steeger. Then I told them about Ranger’s office.
“You see,” Lula said. “Just like Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne had an office.”
Connie gave Lula one of her “what the hell are you talking about” looks, so Lula explained her Ranger is a superhero theory.
“First off,” Connie said, “Bruce Wayne is Batman, and Batman isn’t actually a superhero. Batman’s just some neurotic guy in a rubber suit. You have to get nuked or come from another planet to be a real superhero.”
“Batman’s got his own comic book,” Lula said.
Connie wasn’t impressed with this logic. “Donald Duck has his own comic book. You think Donald Duck is a superhero?”
“What’s the office like?” Lula asked. “Does he have a secretary?”
“No secretary,” I said. “It’s a one-person office with a desk and a couple chairs.”
“We should go over there and snoop around,” Lula said. “See what we can find.”
Anyone snooping around Ranger’s private space would have to have a death wish. “Not a good idea,” I told Lula. “Not only would he kill us, but it’s also not a nice thing to do. He’s not the enemy.”
Lula didn’t look convinced. “That’s all true, but I’d still like to snoop.”
“You don’t really think he’s a superhero,” Connie said to Lula. “You think he’s hot.”
“Damn skippy I do,” Lula said. “But that doesn’t mean he isn’t hiding something. The man has secrets, I’m telling you.”
Connie leaned forward. “Secrets could mean lots of things. He could be wanted for murder in twelve states and have assumed a new identity. Even better…he could be gay.”
“I don’t want to think about him being gay,” Lula said. “Seems like anymore, all the buff bodies are gay, and all
