High Five

'It's a possibility.'

He shrugged. 'Call me crazy, but I'm an optimist.'

'Fine. Go be an optimist someplace else. I don't like you following me around. It's creepy.'

'I won't be any bother. You won't even know I'm here.'

'You're driving six inches from my rear. How am I going to not know you're here?'

'Don't look in your mirror.'

'And I don't think you're a bookie, either,' I said. 'Nobody knows you. I've been asking around.'

He smiled, like this was pretty funny. 'Oh, yeah? Who do you think I am?'

'I don't know.'

'Let me know when you find out.'

'Asshole.'

'Sticks and stones,' Bunchy said. 'And I bet your mother wouldn't like you using that language.'

I huffed off to the Buick, jammed myself behind the wheel, and drove to the office.

'You see that guy parked behind me?' I asked Lula.

'The one in the piece-of-shit brown Dodge?'

'His name's Bunchy, and he says he's a bookie.'

'He don't look like no bookie to me,' Lula said. 'And I never heard of anyone named Bunchy.'

Connie squinted out the window, too. 'I don't recognize him, either,' she said. 'And if he's a bookie, he's not doing all that good.'

'He says Fred owes him money, and he's following me in case I find Fred.'

'Does that float your boat?' Lula wanted to know.

'No. I need to get rid of him.'

'Permanently? 'Cause I got a friend—'

'No! Just for the rest of the day.'

Lula took another look at Bunchy. 'If I shoot out his tires, will he shoot back?'

'Probably.'

'I don't like when they shoot back,' Lula said.

'I thought maybe I could trade cars with you.'

'Trade my Firebird for that whale you drive? I don't think so. Friendship don't go that far.'

'Fine! Great! Forget I asked!'

'Hold on,' Lula said. 'Don't have to go getting all snippy. I'll have a talk with him. I can be real persuasive.'

'You aren't going to threaten him, are you?'

'I don't threaten people. What kind of woman you think I am?'

Connie and I watched her sashay out the office over to the car. We knew what kind of woman she was.

Lula was wearing a canary-yellow spandex miniskirt and a stretchy top that was at least two sizes too small. Her hair was orange. Her lipstick was bright pink. And her eyelids were gold glitter.

We heard her say, 'Hello, handsome,' to Bunchy, and then she lowered her voice, and we couldn't hear any more.

'Maybe you should try to sneak away while Lula's got his attention,' Connie said. 'Maybe you could roll the Buick back nice and easy, and he won't notice.'

I thought chances of Bunchy not noticing were pretty slim, but I was willing to try. I quickly walked to the car, snuck in on the curb side, and slid behind the wheel. I released the emergency brake, held my breath, and turned the key in the ignition. Varoooom. A V8 does not sneak.

Bunchy and Lula both turned to look at me. I saw Bunchy say something to Lula. And Lula grabbed Bunchy by the shirt-front and yelled 'Go!' to me. 'I got him,' she said. 'You can count on me!'

Bunchy slapped at her hand, and Lula squashed herself into the car window with her big yellow ass hanging out, looking from the outside like Pooh Bear stuck in the rabbit hole. She had Bunchy by the neck, and when I drove by I saw her plant a kiss square on his mouth.

*    *    *    *    *

 MABEL WAS IN the kitchen making tea when I got there.

'Anything new in the investigation?' she asked.

'I talked to the man who was looking for Fred. He says he's Fred's bookie. Did you know Fred was gambling?'

'No.' She paused with the tea bag in her hand. 'Gambling,' she said, testing the word. 'I had no idea.'