“Is this Stephanie?”
“Yes.”
“This is Sugar. I don't suppose Sally is with you.”
“No. I haven't seen Sally all day.”
“He's late for dinner. He told me he'd be home, but he isn't here. I thought maybe he was off doing some bounty hunter thing since that's all he talks about anymore.”
“Nope. I worked alone today.”
* * * * *
I OPENED the curtains in my bedroom and looked out across the parking lot. It was mid-?morning and already the heat was shimmering on the blacktop. A dog barked on Stiller Street, behind the lot. A screen door banged open and closed. I squinted in the direction of the barking dog and spotted a black Jeep Cherokee parked two houses down on Stiller.
No big deal, I said to myself, lots of people drive black Jeep Cherokees. Still, I'd never seen a Cherokee there before. And it really did remind me of the car that had been tailing me. Best to check it out.
I was wearing cut-?off jeans and a green Big Dog T-?shirt. I stuck my .38 into the waistband of the jeans and pulled the shirt over the gun. I walked around like this for a few minutes, trying to get used to the idea of carrying, but I felt like an idiot. So I took the gun out and returned it to its place in the brown bear cookie jar.
I rode the elevator to the small lobby, exited from the front entrance and walked one block down St. James. I hung a left at the corner, continued on for two blocks, turned and came up behind the Cherokee. The windows were tinted, but I could see a shadowy form at the wheel. I crept closer and knocked on the driver's-?side window. The window rolled down and Joyce Barnhardt smiled out at me.
“Ciao,” Joyce said.
“What the hell do you think you're doing?”
“I'm staking you out. What does it look like I'm doing?”
“I suppose there's a reason?”
Joyce shrugged. “We're both after the same person. I thought it wouldn't hurt to see what pathetic attempts you've made to find her . . . before I take over and get the job done.”
“We aren't after the same person. That simply isn't done. Vinnie would never give the same case to two different agents.”
“A lot you know.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Vinnie didn't think you were making any progress, so he gave Maxine Nowicki to me.”
“I don't believe you.”
Joyce held her contract up for me to see. “Authorized by the Vincent Plum Agency to apprehend Maxine Nowicki . . .” she read.
“We'll see about this!”
Joyce made a pouty kissy face.
“And stop following me!”
“It's a free country,” Joyce said. “I can follow you if I want to.”
I huffed 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.”