“Melody More?” Diesel asked.
“Yuh.”
“Mommy,” the toddler said. “I gotta poop.”
“Not now,” Melody said. “Mommy’s busy.”
“But I gotta!”
“Stu,” Melody yelled. “Stu!”
A pleasant-looking thirty-something guy ambled into the living room. “Yuh?”
“Kenny has to poop.”
“Again?”
Melody turned back to us. “We’re not buying anything, and we already found Jesus.”
“We’re looking for Lenny,” Diesel said. “We were told he moved here after the fire.”
“I don’t let perverts into the house,” Melody said. “Are you a couple of perverts?”
“No,” I told her. “I’m a pastry chef.”
“How about him?” she asked, eyeing Diesel.
“I’m not sure about him,” I said.
“And the monkey?”
Diesel and I had forgotten about Carl. He was standing behind us on the front porch. He did his best to smile and do a finger wave.
“Goggy!” the toddler said. He clapped his hands and ran at Carl. “Goggy, goggy!”
Carl stumbled back, but the kid tackled him and hugged him.
“Eep!” Carl said, arms pinned to his sides, nose-to-nose with Melody’s toddler.
“Maybe he shouldn’t be hugging him like that,” I said to Melody. “He could have fleas or something.”
Melody snatched the kid up, and Carl gave me the finger.
Something crashed in another room, and Melody took stock of the kids next to her. “Who’s missing?”
“Mary Susan,” one of the older kids said. “And Kevin is getting a time-out in the attic.”
“Mary Susan?” Melody hollered. “What was that noise I heard?”
No answer.
“Remember when she broke the fish tank?” the older kid said. “And all the fishes were swimming on the rug and then they got dead.”
“I have to see what Mary Susan is up to,” Melody said to us. “I guess you can come in. Just don’t try anything funny with my kids, or I’ll cut your hearts out.” She turned to her oldest. “Get Uncle Lenny. Tell him he has company.”
So far as I could see, there were six kids and three adults living in a cracker box. Melody was like the woman who lived in a shoe and had so many kids she didn’t know what to do. Everywhere I looked, there were toys, kids’ books, stacks of baby clothes, sippy cups, and chocolate smudges.
Carl picked a Barbie doll off the floor and studied it. He touched the pointy breast with his finger. “Eep?” he asked, looking up at Diesel.