“I don't,” Connie said.
“Me either,” Lula said.
“Me either,” I said.
Jackie looked at us one by one. “Hunh.”
“You'll be happy when you get straight,” Lula said.
“Oh yeah?” Jackie said. “I'm happy now. I'm so goddamn happy I can't hardly stand it. Sometimes I just happy myself into a state.”
Connie had her copy of Mo's file on her desk. “We don't get Mo in the next five days and we're going to have to forfeit the bond,” she said to me.
I flipped the file open and took another look at the bond agreement and the picture.
Jackie looked over my shoulder. “Hey,” she said, “it's Old Penis Nose. You after him? I just saw him.”
Everyone turned and stared at Jackie.
“Yep, that's him all right,” she said, flicking a false red fingernail against the photo. “Drives a blue Honda. Remember we used to see him on the street sometimes. Saw him coming out of the apartment building on Montgomery. The one next to the mission.”
Lula and I looked at each other. Duh.
“He alone?” I asked Jackie.
“I wasn't paying much attention, but I don't remember anyone else.”
“I'm gonna drive Jackie over to the clinic on Perry Street,” Lula said. “Help her get started.”
The problem with the clinic on Perry Street was that it was filled with dopers. Therefore, the street outside was filled with dealers. The dopers came to get their daily dose of methadone, but on the way in and out it was like walking through a controlled-substance supermarket. Easiest place to get dope in any city is always at the meth clinic.
Lula wasn't going along to make sure Jackie got started. Lula was going along to make sure Jackie didn't OD before she even signed the papers.
Lula followed me to my parents' house and waited while I parked the Buick in the driveway. Then she and Jackie dropped me at the Nissan service center.
“Don't t let them give you no baloney about that truck,” Lula said. “You test-drive it. You tell them you'll bust a cap up their ass if that truck isn't fixed.”
“Okay,” I said. “Don't worry. Nobody's taking advantage of me.”
I waved her off and went in search of the service manager. “So what do you think?” I asked him. “Is the truck in okay shape?”
“We've got it running like a top.”
“Excellent,” I said, relieved that I didn't have to do any cap busting.
Jackie had seen Mo coming out of an apartment building on the corner of Montgomery and Grant. I wouldn't t call it a hot lead, but it was better than nothing, and I thought it deserved a look. Montgomery and Grant were southeast of the burg in an area of Trenton that worked hard at staying prosperous. The apartment building anchored the street, with the rest of the block given over to small businesses. Sal's Cafe, A&G Appliances, Star Seafood, Montgomery Street Freedom Mission and the Montgomery Street Freedom Church.
I circled the block, looking for a blue Honda. None turned up. The apartment building had its own underground parking, but a key card was required to get past the gate. No problem. I could park on the street and check the garage on foot.
I did three laps around the block, and finally someone pulled out of a desirable space at the curb. I wanted to be on Montgomery, in view of both the front door and the garage entrance. I thought I'd snoop in the garage, take a look at the mailboxes, and then maybe I'd hang out and see if anything interested me.
There were seventy-two mailboxes. None had the name “Moses Bedemier” printed on it. The garage was only a third full. I found two blue Hondas, but none with the correct plate.
I went back to the truck and sat. I watched the people on the street. I watched the cars. I didn't see anyone I knew. At one o'clock I got a sandwich at Sal's Cafe. I showed Mo's picture and asked if he'd been seen.
The waitress looked at it.
“Maybe,” she said. “Looks sort of familiar, but it's hard to say for sure. We get so many people passing through. A lot of older men come in for coffee before the mission opens its doors for breakfast. It started out being for the homeless, but it's used more by seniors who are lonely and strapped for money.”