“Nope,” Jackie said. “Came to see Stephanie.”
Connie handed me a cold hot dog. “Jackie's got man problems.”
“Yeah,” Jackie said. “Missing man problems.”
Lula leaned forward. “You telling me your old man took off?”
“That's what I'm telling you,” Jackie said. “I've been standing out on that corner in the freezing cold, doing my thing, supporting that loser in fine style, and this is the thanks I get. No note. No good-bye. No nothin'. And that isn't even the worst of it. That no good jerk-off took my car.”
Lula looked appalled. “He took the Chrysler?”
“That's it, woman. He took the Chrysler. I still have ten payments on that car.”
I finished my hot dog and handed the little nail polish bag to Connie. “Vinnie ever show?”
“No. He hasn't come in yet.”
“Bet he be doing a nooner somewhere,” Lula said. “That man got a 'tosterone problem. He's one of those do it with barnyard animals.”
“Anyway, I came to you for help on account of you're good at finding missing shit,” Jackie said to me. “I got money. I can pay you.”
“She's the best,” Lula said. “Stephanie here can find any shit you want. You want her to find your old man, it's a done deal.”
“Hell, I don't give a flip about that worthless piece of trash. I want her to find my car,” Jackie said. “How am I supposed to get around without a car? I had to take a cab over here today. And how am I supposed to ply my trade in weather like this without no backseat? You think all johns got their own bac
kseat? No way. My business is hurting because of this.”
“Have you reported the theft to the police?” I asked.
Jackie shifted her weight, one hand on hip. “Say what?”
“Maybe your car's been impounded,” I suggested.
“I already checked impound,” Connie said. “They don't have it.”
“Was a ninety-two Chrysler LeBaron. Dark blue. Got it used six months ago,” Jackie said. She handed me a file card. “Here's the license number. Last I saw it was two days ago.”
“Anything else missing? Money? Clothes? This guy pack a bag when he leave?” I asked.
“Only thing missing is his worthless body and my car.”
“Maybe he just out drunk somewhere,” Lula said. “Maybe he just ho'in' around.”
“Nuh-uh. I would of known. He's gone, I'm telling you.”
Lula and I exchanged glances, and I suspected Jackie was right about the worthless body part.
“Why don't we take Jackie home,” Lula said to me. “And then we could kind of cruise around and see what we can see.”
The tone surprised me. Soft and serious. Not the Lula who played bounty hunter at the mall.
“We could do that,” I said. “We might find something.”
All of us watching Jackie. Jackie not showing much but anger at losing her car. That was Jackie's way.
Lula had her hat on her head and her duster buckled up. “I'll be back later to do the filing,” she told Connie.
“Just don't go into any banks in that getup,” Connie said.