“I know someone who would shoot him,” the receptionist said.
“I’ll get back to you,” I said to the receptionist.
I walked Potts out of the salon and through the mall to the Macy’s exit.
“I don’t see the Buick,” Potts said.
“I have a different car. It’s a loaner from a friend.”
“Is it the guy you sleep with? The good-looking one with muscles?”
“Yes.”
I unlocked the Honda.
“This is it? A Honda?” Potts asked. “It’s nice but I expected you to perform at Porsche level. Maybe Mercedes. Boy, this is an eye opener. Where are we going for lunch?”
“Giovichinni’s Grocery. You can get something from the deli, and we can eat at the office. I want to check in with Connie.”
* * *
I got Potts settled onto the faux leather couch with his chicken wrap and Pepsi, and I took the chair in front of Connie’s desk. I unwrapped my ham and cheese panini and opened a small tub of coleslaw.
“I like the hair,” Connie said.
I nodded. “Thanks. I’m getting used to it.”
“Lula called and told me she was back at the dentist.”
“Her temporary popped off.” I reached into my messenger bag, pulled out the body receipt for Trotter, and handed it to Connie.
“Vinnie’s going to love this,” Connie said. “This was a high bond.”
“I’m going to love it, too,” I said. “I need the money.”
Connie wrote a check and slid it across her desk to me. “What are you buying with this?”
“Food. Clothes. Maybe a manicure. My rent is due. Any more information from your mom?”
“The latest gossip is that the La-Z-Boys are having problems. Lou Salgusta has gone from a successful sadistic killer to flat-out crazy, and Charlie Shine has decided he’s Al Capone.”
“What about Benny?”
“Benny is never seen. He’s in his house, eating cheese ravioli and watching television with his cat. My mom said his wife was moved into a hospice facility yesterday. She’s been sick for a long time.”
“That’s sad,” I said. “I didn’t know her, but everyone seemed to like her.”
“My mom will miss her,” Connie said. “They were friends for a lot of years.”
I finished my lunch and Gr
andma called. “I need a ride,” she said. “And I could use some help picking an outfit. Your mother is babysitting for your sister and can’t take me. I’d go myself but they hid the keys to the Buick.”
“What kind of an outfit?” I asked.
“Carla Skootch went into hospice yesterday, and she’s not expected to last the night, so I need something to wear to the viewing. I want to look respectful for her. She’s a nice lady and she put up with a lot over the years.”
“Sure,” I said. “I need to get some new clothes, too. When would you like to go?”