“I don’t, but I can’t keep babysitting him every minute.”
Connie waved a file at me. “I just got a new FTA. It’s not worth a lot of money, but it should be easy to clear. It’s Stanley Kulicky.”
“I know Stanley,” I said. “I went to school with him. What’s his problem?”
“He broke into the Sunshine Diner and stole a couple five-gallon jugs of rice pudding. I guess he was high and he got the munchies for rice pudding. The diner was closed so he helped himself.”
“That don’t sound like much of a crime,” Lula said.
“After he got the rice pudding strapped into his backseat, he went back in and tried to make himself a burger and fries and ended up setting the kitchen on fire. He panicked and took off, and on the way out of the parking lot he rammed a cop car. No one was hurt, but the cop car was trashed. Kulicky said he didn’t see it. Said it jumped out at him from nowhere.”
I looked at the file. “Unemployed and living with his parents.” I flipped the page to his photo. “Whoa! What happened to him?”
Lula looked over my shoulder. “He’s fat,” Lula said. “I don’t use that term a lot on account of it could be derogatory, but there’s no other way to describe him. He’s all swelled up.”
“He was a skinny guy in high school,” I said.
“Maybe he got a glandular thing going,” Lula said.
I thought it was more likely a rice pudding thing.
I dropped the file into my messenger bag and took a don
ut from the box on Connie’s desk. “I’m on it,” I said.
“Me too,” Lula said. “You might need help.”
“I called him earlier,” Connie said. “His parents are at work, but he’s at home. He sounded cooperative. He said he forgot about the court date.”
“They all say that,” Lula said. “Then they shoot at you.”
Stanley’s parents lived just outside the Burg on Cobb Street. The house was a small bungalow with a long narrow backyard and a detached single-car garage at the back of the property. Stanley was sitting on the garage roof. And he was naked.
“This might not be a good time,” Lula said, looking the length of the driveway.
“At least we know he’s not armed.”
We walked back to the garage and stood, hands on hips, staring up at Stanley.
“How’s it going?” I said to him.
“Pretty good. How’s with you?”
“Not bad. What are you doing on the roof?”
“I like it up here. It’s peaceful. I have a nice view of the yard. And I can look in Mrs. Zahn’s bedroom window. Sometimes she’s naked.”
“Is that why you’re naked?”
“No. I’m doing the laundry, and I didn’t have anything to wear.”
“Do you have any of that rice pudding left?” Lula asked.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t get to keep it. The cops took it.”
“Case closed,” Lula said. “I’m thinking we’re out of here.”
Fortunately, I had the keys to the car. And I wasn’t ready to leave just yet. I wasn’t leaving without Stanley.