off, back to my building. I stomped upstairs, got my keys and my shoulder bag, stomped back downstairs and gunned the CRX out of the lot . . . with Joyce close on my back bumper.
I didn't bother to lose her. I turned onto Hamilton and in less than five minutes was at the office. Joyce parked half a block back and stayed in her car while I stormed through the front door.
"Where is he? Where is that miserable little worm?"
"Uh oh," Lula said. "Been there, done that."
"Now what?" Connie said.
"Joyce Barnhardt, that's what. She showed me a contract authorizing her to bring in Maxine Nowicki."
"That's impossible," Connie said. "I issue all the contracts, and I don't know anything about it. And besides, Vinnie never gives out an FTA to two different agents."
"Yeah, but remember that Joyce person came in real early on Tuesday morning," Lula said. "And she and Vinnie were locked in his office together for almost an hour, and they were making those weird barnyard sounds."
"I forgot my gun again," I said.
"I got a gun," Connie said, "but it isn't going to do you any good. Vinnie went to North Carolina yesterday to pick up a jumper. He should be back the end of the week."
"I can't work like this," I said. "She's in my way. She's following me around."
"I can fix that," Lula said. "Where is she? I'll go talk to her."
"She's in the black Cherokee, but I don't think that's a good idea."
"Don't worry about nothing," Lula said, swinging through the door. "I'll be real diplomatic. You wait here."
Lula, diplomatic?
"Lula," I yelled, "come back here. I'll take care of Joyce Barnhardt."
Lula reached the car and was standing by the curbside rear quarter panel. "This the one?" she called to me.
"Yes, but . . ."
Lula pulled a gun out from under her T-shirt and—BANG! She blew a cantaloupe-sized hole in Joyce's back tire. She had the gun back under the shirt by the time Joyce got out of the car.
Joyce saw the tire and her mouth dropped open.
"Did you see that?" Lula asked Joyce. "A guy came by here and shot up your tire. And then fast as anything, he ran away. I don't know what this world is coming to."
Joyce looked from Lula to the tire and from Lula to the tire, all the while her mouth still open but no words coming out.
"Well, I gotta get back to work," Lula said, turning her back on Joyce, walking back to the office.
"I can't believe you did that!" I said to Lula. "You can't just go around shooting out people's tires!"
"Look again," Lula said.
Connie was at her desk. "Anybody want to go to Mannie's for lunch today? I'm in a pasta mood."
"I have to follow up on a lead," I told her.
"What kind of lead?" Lula wanted to know. "There gonna be action? If there is, I want to go along, because I'm in an action mood now."
Truth is, I could use another person to keep an eye out for Maxine. I'd have preferred Ranger, but that was going to be awkward with Lula standing in front of me, hankering after action.
"No action," I said. "This is a boring lead. Very boring."
"It's about Maxine, isn't it? Oh boy, this is gonna be great. That body we found last time was almost dead. Maybe this time we'll hit the jackpot."
"We'll need to take your car," I said to Lula. "If there's a takedown we can't all fit in my CRX."
"Fine by me," Lula said, retrieving her purse from a file drawer. "I got air in my car. And another advantage, my car's parked out back, so we don't have to put on our sympathy face to Joyce, being that she's got a flat tire and we don't. Where we going anyway?"
"Muffet Street. North Trenton."
"I STILL DON'T LIKE THIS," Kuntz said. "Maxine is crazy. Who knows what she'll do. I'm gonna feel like a sitting duck out there."
Lula was standing behind me on Kuntz's porch. "Probably just another dumb-ass note taped to the bottom of the bench. Think you should stop your whining," she said to Kuntz, "on account of it makes you look like a wiener. And with a name like Kuntz you gotta be careful what you look like."
Eddie cut his eyes to Lula. "Who's this?"
"I'm her partner," Lula said. "Just like Starsky and Hutch, Cagney and Lacey, the Lone Ranger and What's-his-name."
Truth is, we were more like Laurel and Hardy, but I didn't want to