'Well?' Connie asked.
'It's Carmen, the woman in black. She claims to be Ranger's wife. I've seen her driver's license. It reads Carmen Manoso. Her story is that he walked out on her last week, and she's looking for him.'
'Holy crap,' Lula said.
Connie started punching information into her computer. 'Do you know anything else? Address?'
'Arlington. I didn't see her driver's license long enough to get more,' I told her. 'And I have the plate.' I scribbled it on a piece of paper for her. 'Supposedly Ranger had an office in the area, closed it without warning and disappeared.'
This is the age of instant access. Connie had computer programs that pulled everything from credit history to medical history to high school grades and movie preferences. Connie could find out if you were constipated in 1994.
'Here she is,' Connie said. 'Carmen Manoso. Twenty-two years old. Maiden name, Carmen Cruz. Married to Ricardo Carlos Manoso. Blah, blah, blah. I don't see anything especially interesting. She's originally from Lanham, Maryland, and then Springfield, Virginia. No children. No history of mental illness. No criminal history that I can see. Unimpressive work history. Mostly in retail sales. Waited tables at a bar in Springfield and most recently lists herself as self-employed, bounty hunter. Some financial information. The SUV is leased. Lives in a rental in Arlington. I can go deeper, but it'll take a day or two.'
'What about Ranger? Can you run a check on him?'
'Connie and me try to run a check on him all the time,' Lula said. 'It's like he doesn't exist.'
I looked at Connie. 'Is that true?'
'I'm surprised his name showed up in Carmen's data base,' Connie said. 'He has a way of erasing himself.'
I redialed Ranger's cell number and got his service again. 'Hey, man of mystery,' I said, 'your wife is here, and she's looking for you with a gun in her hand.'
'That would get my attention,' Lula said.
'Only if you were near a cell tower,' I told her. 'And sometimes Ranger goes places where no cell tower has gone before. Let's saddle up. I want to see what Lonnie Johnson's house looks like today. See if anyone's shooting at him.'
Lula's Firebird was parked in the small back lot, so we left through the back door and took her car. After a couple blocks I called Connie.
'Is Carmen still at the curb?'
'Yep. She didn't see your rear exit. Guess bounty hunter skills aren't high on the list for things you learn when you're married to Ranger.'
I hung up, and Lula cruised down Hamilton and hooked a right turn into Johnson's neighborhood. We were a block away when we saw the lone fire truck. It was parked in front of Johnson's house… or at least, what was left of it.
'Hunh,' Lula said, creeping in for a closer look. 'Hope he had insurance.'
Johnson's house was a pile of blackened rubble.
I got out of the car and walked to the fire truck where two firemen were checking a form off on a clipboard.
'What happened?' I asked.
'The house burned down,' one of them said.
They looked at each other and laughed. Fireman humor.
'Anyone hurt?'
'No. Everyone got out. Are you a friend?'
'I knew Lonnie Johnson. Do you know where he went?'
'No, but he went there fast. Left his girlfriend behind to sort through the mess. She said it was a kitchen fire, but there was no way.'
How about this: maybe the firebomb landed in the kitchen.
I got back into the car and slouched in my seat.