Tell me about it.
“You got any FTAs?” I asked Connie.
“Nothing came in on Saturday. And it's too early for today.”
“Where's Vinnie?”
“At the lockup, writing bail on a shoplifter.”
I left the office and stood outside, staring at the Buick. “I hate you,” I said.
I heard someone laughing softly behind me and turned to find Ranger.
“You always talk to your car like that? Think you need a life, Babe.”
“I've got a life. What I need is a new car.”
He stared at me for a couple beats, and I was afraid to speculate on what he was thinking. His brown eyes were assessing, and his expression was mildly amused. “What would you be willing to do for a new car?”
“What did you have in mind?”
Again, the soft laugh. “Would it still have to be morally correct?”
“What kind of car are we talking about?”
“Powerful. Sexy.”
I had a feeling those words might be included in the job description, too.
A light rain had started to fall. He pulled my jacket hood up and tucked my hair in. His finger traced a line at my temple, our eyes met, and for a terrifying moment I thought he might kiss me. The moment passed, and Ranger pulled back.
“Let me know when you decide,” he said.
“Decide?”
He smiled. “About the car.”
“Okeydokey.”
Unh! I climbed into the Buick and roared off into the mist. I stopped for a light and thunked my head on the steering wheel while I waited for the green. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, I thought while I thunked. Why had I said “okeydokey”? What a dopey thing to say! I did one last thunk and the light turned.
Grandma was getting coated with hairspray when I got to the salon. Her hair was steel gray, and she kept it cut short and curled in rolls that marched in side-?by-?side rows on her pink skull. “I'm almost done,” she said. “Did you get the pictures?”
“Not yet.”
She paid for her wash and set, stuffed herself into her coat, and carefully tied the plastic rain bonnet on her head. “That was some viewing last night,” she said, being cautious how she walked on the wet pavement. “What a lot of excitement. You weren't even there when Margaret Burger pitched a fit over the guy in room three. You remember how Margaret's husband, Sol, died from a heart attack last year? Well, Margaret said it was all over a problem Sol was having with the cable company. Margaret said they drove Sol to high blood pressure. And she said the guy who did it was the dead guy in room three, John Curly. Margaret said she came to spit on his dead body.”
“Margaret Burger came to Stiva's to spit on someone?” Margaret Burger was a sweet white-?haired lady.
“That's what she told me, but I didn't actually see her spit. I guess I came in too late. Or maybe after she saw this John Curly person she decided not to do it. He looked even worse than Lipinski.”
“How did he die?”
“Hit and run. And from the looks of him he must have got hit by a truck. Boy, I'm telling you these companies are something. Margaret said Sol was arguing over his bill, just like Fred, and this smart-?mouth in the office, John Curly, didn't want to hear anything.?
?
I parked in front of One-?Hour Photo and got Grandma's pictures.