'What did he look like?'
'Goodness. I don't know. He was just a man. Ordinary.'
'Caucasian?'
'Yes. And about the same height as Fred. And he was dressed in a suit.'
'What color hair? Was his hair long or short?'
'It wasn't like I was paying attention to remember something,' she said. 'I was just passing time until Carl got here. I suppose his hair was short and maybe brown. I can't actually remember, but if it was unusual, it would have stuck in my mind.'
'Would you know him if you saw him again? Would you recognize him from a picture?'
'I don't think I could say for sure. He was a ways away, you know, and I didn't see his face much.'
'How about the car he was driving? Do you remember the color?'
She was silent for a moment, her eyes unfocused while she searched for a mental image of the car. 'I just wasn't paying attention,' she said. 'I'm sorry. I can't recall the car. Except that it wasn't a truck or anything. It was a car.'
'Did it look like they were arguing?'
'No. They were just talking. And then the man walked around the car and got behind the wheel. And Fred got in the passenger side. And they drove away.'
I gave her my card in exchange for her name, address, and phone number. She said she didn't mind if I called to ask more questions. And she said she'd keep her eyes open and call me if she saw Fred.
I was so psyched I almost didn't see Lula standing two inches from me. 'Wow!' I said, bumping into her.
'Earth to Stephanie,' Lula said.
'How'd you do?' I asked her.
'Lousy. There's a bunch of dummies living here. Nobody knows nothing.'
'I didn't have any luck back there, either,' I said. 'But I found someone in the store who saw Fred get into a car with another man.'
'You shitting me?'
'Swear to God. The woman's name is Irene Tully.'
'So who's the man? And where's ol' Fred?' Lula asked.
I didn't know the answers to those questions. Some of the wind went out of my sails when I realized not a whole lot had changed. I had a new puzzle piece, but I still didn't know if Fred was in Fort Lauderdale or the Camden landfill.
We'd been walking back to Lula's Firebird, and I'd been lost in thought. I looked at the Firebird and thought there was something strange about it. It hit me at the same time Lula started shrieking.
'My baby,' Lula yelled. 'My baby, my baby.'
The Firebird was up on blocks. Someone had stolen all four wheels.
'This is just like Fred,' she said. 'What is this, the Bermuda Triangle?'
We got closer and looked in the car window. Lula's groceries were stuffed onto the front seat, and two of the wheels were in the back. Lula popped the trunk and found her other two wheels.
'What the hell?' she said.
An old brown Dodge rolled to a stop beside us. Bunchy.
Okay, who do we know who can open doors without keys? Who has a score to settle with Lula? And who has returned to the scene of the crime?
'Not bad,' I said to Bunchy. 'Sort of a sadistic sense of humor . . . but not bad.'
He smiled at my comment and eyed the car. 'You ladies got a problem?'
'Someone took the wheels off my Firebird,' Lula said, looking like she'd figured it out, too. 'Don't suppose you know who could've done something like this.'
'Vandals?'
'Vandals, my ass.'
'I have to be getting along now,' Bunchy said, smiling ear to ear. 'Toodles.'
Lula hauled a small cannon out of her shoulder bag and pointed it at Bunchy. 'You slime-faced bag of monkey shit.'
The smile was gone in a flash, and Bunchy laid rubber out of the lot.
'Good thing I got auto club,' Lula said.
An hour later, I was back in my Buick. I was running short on time, but I wanted to talk to Mabel.
I almost zipped right past her house, because the '87 Pontiac station wagon wasn't parked at the curb. In its place was a new silver-gray Nissan Sentra.
'Where's the station wagon?' I asked Mabel when she answered the door.
