Sizzling Sixteen

“This morning, Chet called with a list of properties Sunflower owns through his holding company,” I told Co

“I’m up for that,” Lula said. “It’s a nice su

FOR THE MOST part, the holding company owned commercial real estate that was leased out to a variety of businesses. A supermarket, a dry cleaner, a pet store, a hair salon, a natural foods store, and a couple empty lots.

“This is interesting,” Lula said. “Here’s this Sunflower guy who’s real bad, making his money off prostitution and gambling and drugs, and then he’s got this whole other side that’s got legitimate, boring businesses. Don’t you find that interesting? I mean, the man owns a natural foods store.”

“He doesn’t actually own the store. He owns the physical space.”

“Same difference. And a pet store filled with puppies and shit. I mean, can you see Bobby Sunflower selling puppies?”

“He doesn’t personally sell puppies.”

“But suppose he did. Wouldn’t that be weird?”

I’D DRIVEN PAST all the properties on Chet’s list and I was now parked on Liberty Street. Nothing on the list had the potential for holding Vi

“I don’t know where to go from here,” I said to Lula. “I have two days to find Vi

“I got ideas,” Lula said. “They’re about lunch. I’m thinking nachos.”

“Good idea,” I told her. “I know just the place.”

I drove down Liberty to Broad and followed Broad across town to Marble Street. I pulled into the 7-Eleven lot and parked. Mickey Gritch was on the other side of the lot, conducting business as usual.

I gave Lula a twenty. “Get me nachos and a drink. I’m going to talk to Mickey.”

“You sure you don’t want me behind you doin’ backup?”

“No. I can manage on my own.”

I waited for a guy in a rumpled suit to walk away from Gritch. When the guy got in his car, I moved in.

“Hey,” I said to Gritch. “Long time no see.”

“Not long enough,” Gritch said. “Get away from me. You’re like poison.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. By association.”

“Talk to me,” I said.

Gritch rolled his engine over. “I’m leaving.”

“You can talk to me here, or you can talk to me at your house,” I said. “I know where you live.”

I’d had good luck with Ernie Wilkes with that threat. I figured I’d roll it out and try it again.

“You wouldn’t do that,” Gritch said.

“Yep,” I said. “I would.”

“That’s not fair. A man’s home is his castle.”

“Where’s Vi

“I don’t know. I swear. I guess he was at Sunflower’s house in Pe

“I need a name.”

“I don’t have a name. I’m not a big player in the organization. I heard Blutto tossed around, but I don’t know what it means. I don’t know if it’s a first name or a last name or a nickname.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“You’re not going to visit me, are you?”

“No.”

“Nothing personal, but that’s a relief.”

I left Gritch to his lunch trade and went back to the Jeep. Lula swung in minutes later with two boxes of nachos and two giant-size sodas.

“What about the one diet?” I asked her. “Aren’t you only allowed to have one chip?”

“That diet isn’t real specific about meaning one chip or one box of nachos. I’m thinking of quitting that diet anyway. It don’t work. I think I’m going to have to look for a new diet.”

I finished the nachos, and I was torn between going after Chopper and continuing to look for Vi

“What the heck are you thinking?” Lula asked me. “You’re mumbling and rolling your eyes and sighing.”

“I was thinking I need to find Vi

“Do you think Sunflower would really kill Vi

“Yes,” I said. “I think he’d kill Vi

“I do, too,” Lula said. “Sunflower’s a bad man.”

I finished my soda, collected the trash, and ran it over to the trash can by the door. I ran back and cranked the Jeep over.

“Where we going?” Lula wanted to know. “We’ve already been all over the place.”

“I have a hunch. They had to hustle Vi

“The rat house.”

“Exactly.”

In fifteen minutes, we were in front of the apartment building on Stark. The area around the apartment was quiet at this time of the day, but a scrawny guy, who I assumed had a big gun, was slouched on a folding chair by the door.

“That’s like a advertisement Vi

“Maybe.”

I drove around the corner and turned into the alley. We counted off units, and I idled behind the apartment building. It had six parking spaces marked off in its small lot. The rest of the lot was given over to a Dumpster. The black SUV was parked in one of the spaces. The building had a back door at ground level. One window with bars at ground level. No bars on the windows on the second, third, and fourth floors. A rusted fire escape clung precariously to the back of the building.

“Try the back door,” I said to Lula.

Lula dropped out of the Jeep, crossed the lot, and tried the door. Locked. She got back into the Jeep.

“Now what?” Lula said. “I think he’s in there, but I don’t know if the stink bomb’s go

“One of us needs to go in and look around.”

“You?”

“No,” I said. “You.”

“Why me? I’m only the assistant bounty hunter, and I’m not even sure I want to rescue Vi

“You can get by the guy at the door. Tell him you’re making a delivery to the nasty fat guy on the third floor.”

“Am I goin’ door to door, selling Girl Scout cookies?”

“No. Once you get in, just look around and listen for voices.”

I dropped Lula off at the corner and watched her swing her ass past the funeral home and up to the guy at the door to the apartment building. She stood and talked to him for a short time, and then she went inside. After ten minutes, I looked in my rear view mirror and spotted a Rangeman SUV double-parked in front of a bar half a block back. The cowardly part of me was happy to see them there, but the rest of my brain acknowledged that I led a weird life. I had a cop boyfriend who hated my job and tried to get me to quit. And I had a security expert potential lover who didn’t tell me to quit my job, but had me under constant surveillance. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

Lula popped out of the building’s open front door, and the door guard grabbed her by the arm. I was ready to roll if it looked like she was in danger. Not that I would be much good as a rescuer, but the two heavily armed, overly muscled guys on my bumper could do some damage.

Lula jollied herself away from the door guard and sashayed down the sidewalk to where I was waiting. She got into the Jeep, I waved to the Rangeman guys, and I drove off.

“Well?” I asked her.

“He’s there. He’s in the back unit on the fourth floor. I could hear him talking. Sounded like they were playing cards.”

“Any problems? Anyone see you?”

“Just the moron at the door, and he bought the ’ho line.”