I let us into my apartment, and we both migrated to the kitchen. I slid a look at the answering machine. Nothing was blinking. No message from Morelli, pleading for a date. Not that Morelli ever pleaded for anything. Still, a girl could hope. Large mental sigh. I was going to spend Saturday night with Albert Kloughn. It felt like doomsday. Kloughn was looking at me expectantly. He was like a puppy, eyes bright, tail wagging, waiting to be taken for a walk. Endearing… in an incredibly annoying sort of way.
“Now what?” he asked. “What do we do now?”
I needed to think about this. Usually the problem is
I opened the refrigerator and stared inside. My motto has always been, When all else fails, eat something. “Let’s make dinner,” I said.
“Oh boy, a home-cooked meal. That would really hit the spot. I haven’t eaten in hours. Okay, I had a candy bar just before you got here, but that doesn’t count, does it? I mean, it’s not like real food. And I’m still hungry. It’s not like it’s a meal, right?”
“Right.”
“What should we cook? Pasta? You got some fish? We could have fish. Or a nice steak. I still eat meat. Lots of people don’t eat meat anymore, but I still eat it. I eat everything.”
“Do you eat peanut butter?”
“Sure. I love peanut butter. Peanut butter is a staple, right?”
“Right.” I ate a lot of peanut butter. You don’t have to cook it. You only dirty one knife in the preparation. And you can count on it. It’s always the same. As opposed to picking out a piece of fish, which in my experience is risky.
I made us peanut butter and bread-and-butter pickle sandwiches. And because I had company, I added a layer of potato chips.
“This is very creative,” Kloughn said. “You get a lot of textures this way. And you don’t get your fingers greasy by eating the potato chips separately. I’ll have to remember this. I’m always looking for new recipes.”
Alright, I was going to take another shot at capturing Bender. I was going to break into his house, one more time. As soon as I located a pair of handcuffs. I dialed Lula’s number.
“So,” I said to Lula, “what’s going on tonight?”
“I’m just trying to figure out what to wear, on account of it’s Saturday. And it’s not like I’m some loser who can’t get a date. I’d be out of the house by now, but I can’t make up my mind between two dresses.”
“Do you have handcuffs?”
“Sure. I got handcuffs. You never know when you need handcuffs.”
“Maybe I could borrow them. Just for a couple hours. I need to bring Bender in.”
“You’re gonna go get Bender tonight? You need help? I could cancel my date. Then I wouldn’t have to decide on a dress. You have to come over here to get the cuffs anyway. You might as well take me with.”
“You don’t actually have a date, do you?”
“I could if I wanted.”
“I’ll pick you up in a half hour.”
LULA WAS IN the front seat, and Kloughn was in the backseat. We were parked in front of Bender’s apartment, trying to decide on the best approach.
“You watch the back door,” I said to Lula. “And Albert and I will go in the front door.”
“I don’t like that plan,” Lula said. “I want to go in the front door. And I want to be the one holding the cuffs.”
“I think Stephanie should hold the cuffs,” Kloughn said. “She’s the bounty hunter.”
“Hunh,” Lula said. “What am I, chopped liver? And besides, they’re my cuffs. I should get to hold them. Either I hold them, or you haven’t got no cuffs.”
