“Again? How many does that make this month?”
“It’s the only one this month. I was hoping I could borrow Big Blue.”
“Sure, you can borrow it whenever you want. I don’t drive it on account of it don’t make me look hot.”
I suppose everything’s relative, but I thought it would take more than a fast car to make Grandma look hot. Gravity hasn’t been kind to Grandma. She also doesn’t have a license, due to a heavy foot on the accelerator. Still, I suspected lack of license wouldn’t stop her if she had access to a Ferrari.
I heard a car door slam and turned to see Lula coming toward us.
“I smell fried chicken,” Lula said.
Grandma waved her in. “Stephanie’s mother is frying some up for dinner. And we got a chocolate cake for dessert. We got plenty if you want to stay.”
A half hour later Lula and I were at the dining room table, eating the fried chicken with my mom, dad, and Grandma Mazur.
“Stephanie blew up another car,” Grandma Mazur announced, spooning out mashed potatoes.
“Technically some gang guy blew it up,” Lula said. “And the car wasn’t worth much. The battery was dead.”
My mother made the sign of the cross and belted back half a glass of what looked like ice tea but smelled a lot like Jim Beam. My father kept his head down and gnawed on a chicken leg.
“I wasn’t in it,” I said. “It was an accident.”
“I don’t understand how you have all these accidents,” my mother said. “I don’t know of a single other person who’s had his car blown up.” She looked down the table at my father. “Frank, do you know of anyone else who’s ever had their car blown up? Frank! Are you listening to me?”
My father picked his head up and a piece of chicken fell out of his mouth. “What?”
“It’s our job,” Lula said. “It’s one of them occupational hazards. Like another hazard is getting hospital cooties. We had to do some investigating in a hospital today, and I might have got the cooties.”
“I bet you were tracking down Geoffrey Cubbin,” Grandma said. “Connie called me asking about his doctor. I know something about it on account of Lorraine Moochy has a relative in Cranberry Manor, and Lorraine said Cubbin is gonna need a lot of doctors if those people get their hands on him.”
“What else did Lorraine say about him?” I asked Grandma.
“She said he seemed like a real nice man and then next thing he stole all the money. Cranberry Manor’s one of them places you buy into, and it isn’t cheap. Cranberry Manor’s top of the line considering it’s in Jersey. Lorraine says it could close down, and her relative would have her keester tossed out onto the street.”
“Sounds like she’s boned,” Lula said.
“Boned?” my mother asked.
Grandma selected another piece of chicken. “That’s a polite way of using the f word.”
My mother cut her eyes to the kitchen, and I knew she was thinking about refilling her “ice tea.” Grandma and I are a trial to her. My mother tries hard to be a good Christian woman and a model of decorum, but Grandma and I not so much. It isn’t that we don’t want to be decorous Christian women. It’s just that it doesn’t always go that way.
“Vinnie bonded Geoffrey Cubbin out,” Lula said. “And now we gotta find him.”
“It’s a real interesting case,” Grandma said. “He just up and got dressed in the middle of the night and walked out. If you ask me it’s fishy. And I know his doctor is named Fish, but I don’t mean that way. Cubbin had stitches and everything. You don’t go jogging down the hall and hailing a cab two days after you get your appendix cut out. You creep around hunched over, doing a lot of moaning and complaining.”
“So what do you think happened to him?” Lula asked.
“I don’t know, but seems to me he had to have help,” Grandma said.
“That’s what I think too. And why didn’t anyone see him standing waiting for the elevator?” Lula asked.
“Budget cuts,” Grandma said. “They hardly got any nurses working. And used to be they had cameras in the elevators, but I hear they go on the fritz all the time. I tell you, hospitals aren’t what they used to be. Myra and I go to Central for lunch once a week, but the food’s gotten terrible lately and people are turning surly.”
“You must know a lot of sick people,” Lula said.
“We don’t go to visit sick people,” Grandma said. “We just go for lunch. They always have a big buffet in the cafeteria, and it’s cheap because that’s where the people who work at the hospital eat. Everybody’s wearing those scrub clothes. It’s just like being in Grey’s Anatomy. All the seniors eat there, and sometimes you can score a date. I met a real hottie there last month, but he had an aneurysm and died before I could haul him in. And then after lunch we go to the Costco and get desserts from the free-sample ladies.”