"What are you doing? What are you doing?" one of the kids yelled.
"Hey, don't get your undies in a bunch," the driver said to the kid. "Life's too short." He motored the backhoe onto the flatbed, got behind the wheel, gave us a military salute and drove off. We all stood there, momentarily speechless.
The kid turned to me. "Do you know him?"
"Nope," I said. "Never saw him before in my life."
I WAS less than a mile from my apartment, so I grabbed the jar, jumped into my car and headed for home. All the way, I kept looking over my shoulder, half expecting to be tracked down like a dog by the garbage police.
I unlocked my door and called to Rex. "Another one of those days."
Rex was asleep in his soup can and made no response, so I went into the kitchen and made myself a peanut butter and olive sandwich. I cracked open a beer and studied the new encrypted message while I ate. I looked for run-together words and extra letters, but it was all a big glob of nothing to me. Finally I gave up and called Sally. His phone rang three times and his machine kicked in. "Sally and Sugar aren't home, but they'd just loooooove to talk to you, so leave a message."
I left my name and number and went back to staring at the note. By three o'clock my eyes felt fried and there was no word from Sally, so I decided to go door-to-door to the seniors again. Mr. Kleinschmidt told me it wasn't a crossword. Lorraine told me it wasn't a jumble. Mr. Markowitz told me he was watching TV and didn't have time for such nonsense.
The light was blinking on my phone machine when I returned to my kitchen.
The first message was from Eddie Kuntz. "So where is she?" That was it. That was the whole message.
"What a moolack," I said to the answering machine.
The second message was from Ranger. "Call me."
Ranger is a man of few words. He's Cuban-American, former Special Forces, he makes a much better friend than an enemy, and he's Vinnie's numero uno bounty hunter. I dialed Ranger's number and waited to hear breathing. Sometimes that was all you got.
"Yo," Ranger said.
"Yo yourself."
"I need you to help me take down a skip."
This meant Ranger either needed a good laugh or else he needed a white female to use as a decoy. If Ranger needed serious muscle he wouldn't call me. Ranger knew people who would take on the Terminator for a pack of Camels and the promise of a fun time.
"I need to get an FTA out of a building, and I haven't got what it takes," Ranger said.
"And just exactly what is it that you're lacking?"
"Smooth white skin barely hidden behind a short skirt and tight sweater. Two days ago Sammy the Gimp bought the farm. He's laid out at Leoni's, and my man, Kenny Martin, is in there paying his respects."
"So why don't you just wait until he comes out?"
"He's in there with his mother and his sister and his Uncle Vito. My guess is they'll leave together, and I don't want to wade through the whole Grizolli family to get at this guy."
No kidding. The landfill was littered with the remains of people who tried to wade through Vito Grizolli.
"Actually, I had plans for tonight," I said. "They include living a little longer."
"I just want you to get my man out the back door. I'll take it from there."
I heard the disconnect, but I shouted into the phone anyway. "What are you freaking nuts?"
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER I was dressed in four-inch FMPs (short for "fuck-me pumps," because when you walked around in them you looked like Whorehouse Wonder Bitch). I shimmied into a low-cut black knit dress that was bought with the intent of losing five pounds, gunked up my eyes with a lot of black mascara and beefed up my cleavage by stuffing Nerf balls into my bra.
Ranger was parked on Roebling, half a block from the funeral home. He didn't turn when I pulled to the curb, but I saw his eyes on me in the rearview mirror.
He was smiling when I slid in beside him. "Nice dress you're almost wearing. You ever think about changing professions?"
"Constantly. I'm thinking about it now."
Ranger handed me a photo. "Kenny Martin. Age twenty-two. Minor league loser. Charged with armed robbery." He glanced at the black leather bag I had draped on my