It was Cal. “You have to see this,” he said. “I think I found the second hostage. I'm in the lunchroom.”
We left Junior with Kloughn and we followed the hall to the lunchroom. Cal was standing hands on hips, smiling up at Lula. She was swinging like a giant pifiata from a rope attached to a ceiling fan. She was still wearing the poison green top and the yellow stretch pants and her feet were treading air about fifteen feet off the ground. Her arms were duct-?taped to her sides and she had duct tape across her mouth. A thick rope was wrapped around and threaded through the duct tape on her body and then looped around the fan. She had the beady little charging bull eyes, she was making angry mmmmrf mmrff sounds under the duct tape, and she was kicking her feet. Plaster dust was sifting down on her head from the ceiling fixture.
Rangers face creased into a smile. “I love my job,” he said.
“He must have gotten her up there with a forklift,” Cal said. “There's one parked down the hall. Do you want me to drive it down here?”
“Don't need it,” Ranger said, shoving a table under Lula, climbing onto the table.
Her feet were still swinging in the air and she was still kicking.
“You kick me and I'm leaving you here,” Ranger said.
“Hmmph,” Lula said under the duct tape.
Ranger worked at the rope with his knife, the rope gave, and Lula dropped onto the table. Cal reached out to support her and the two of them went to the floor.
I ripped the tape off Lula's mouth and Ranger cut the tape that was binding her arms.
“I was drugged!” Lula said. “Do you believe it? I was taking the garbage out and he shot me in the ass with a dart. That little shit, Clyde. Next thing I know I'm swinging around from the ceiling. I'm beside myself. I'm in a state. I didn't know what to think. I saw some kinky shit when I was a ho, but I never did anything like this.” She looked around, wild-?eyed. “I need something to eat. This here's an eating situation.” She spied the vending machine and stormed across the room. “I need money. I need quarters or dollars, or something. Omigod, they got Twinkies in here. I need a Twinkie real bad.”
“What about the supermodel diet?” I asked Lula.
“Fuck that. I hate those boney-?ass supermodels anyway. I don't know what I was thinking.” Lula was shaking the vending machine. “Who's got a hammer?” she asked. “Somebody help me out here.”
Ranger slid a dollar into the machine and Lula punched the button.
“Hello, Twinkie,” she said. “I'm coming home. Lula's back in town.”
It was way after midnight when Morelli and I got back to his house. Morelli dragged me up the stairs, stripped my clothes off, and shoved me into the shower. I had paint everywhere. Yellow, red, blue.
“You're a disaster,” Morelli said, standing to one side, watching me.
“Is it coming out of my hair?”
“It's out of your hair, but I think you might have a permanent blue stain down the back of your neck. You're not going to believe this,” Morelli said, “but I'm too tired for sex. I'm beat. I'm not even forty and you've turned me into a burnout. I'm standing here, looking at you naked in the shower, and nothing's happening.”
The soap slid from my fingers, I bent to retrieve it and Morelli changed his mind on the burnout.
“Move over,” Morelli said, peeling his clothes off. “I can see you need help here.”
I woke up feeling great. I opened my eyes and I knew it was over. No more red roses and white carnations. The sun was shining. Birds were chirping. Albert Kloughn didn't explode with the bomb. Morelli was beside me, still sleeping. Life was good. Okay, so I was slightly homeless and I had a blue stain down the back of my neck. Ranger was still at la
rge, waiting to get even for the Apusenja event, but that was in the future. It could be worse. Eventually I'd get my apartment back. And in the meantime I was with Morelli. Who knows, maybe I'll just stay here. Then again . . .
The doorbell rang. I propped myself up on an elbow and looked at the bedside clock. Eight-?thirty.
Joe put his hands to his face and groaned. “Was that the doorbell?”
I got out of bed and went to the window. Joe's mother and Grandmother Bella were on the front porch. They looked up at me and smiled.
Shit.
“It's your mom and Bella,” I said. “You'd better go see what they want.”
“I can't go,” Joe said. “My mother would fall off the porch if she saw me like this.”
I looked under the sheet. He was right. His mother would fall off the porch. “Fine!” I said, rolling my eyes. “I'll go. But you'd better throw some cold water on yourself and come down and rescue me.”