“Well, they're still pretty good pictures,” Grandma said, when we got back to the car. “They would have been better if I could have got his eyes to open.”
I took Grandma home and bummed lunch off my mom. All the while I was looking for Bunchy. Last I saw him was Saturday, and I was beginning to worry. Figure that one out. Me worrying about Bunchy. Stephanie Plum, mother hen.
I left my parents and took Chambers to Hamilton. Bunchy picked me up on Hamilton. I saw him in my rearview mirror, pulled to the curb, and got out to talk to him.
“Where've you been?” I asked. “Take Sunday off?”
“I had some work to catch up on. Bookies gotta work sometimes too, you know.”
“Yeah, only you're not a bookie.”
“We gonna start that again?”
“How'd you find me just now?”
“I was riding around, and I got lucky. How about you? You get lucky?”
“That's none of your damn business!”
His eyes crinkled with laughter. “I was talking about Fred.”
“Oh. One step forward, two steps backward,” I said. “I get things that seem like leads and then they go nowhere.”
“Like what?”
“I found a woman who saw Fred get into a car with another man the day he disappeared. Problem is, she can't describe the man or the car. And then something weird happened at the funeral home, and it feels to me like it might tie in, but I can't find any logical reason why.”
“What was the weird thing?”
“There was a woman at one of the viewings who seemed to have a similar problem to the one Fred was having with the garbage company. Only this woman had problems with her cable company.”
Bunchy looked interested. “What kind of problems?”
“I don't know exactly. Grandma told me about it. She just said they were similar to Fred's.”
“I think we should talk to this woman.”
“We? There's no we.”
“I thought we were working together. You brought me lamb and everything.”
“I felt sorry for you. You were pathetic, sitting out there in your car.”
He wagged his finger at me. “I don't think so. I think you're getting to like me.”
Like a stray dog. Maybe not that much. But he was right about talking to Margaret Burger. What was the harm? I had no idea where Margaret Burger lived, so I went back to my parents' house and asked Grandma.
“I can show you,” she said.
“Not necessary. Just tell me.”
“And miss all the action? No way!”
Why not? I had Bunchy tagging along. Maybe I should ask Mrs. Ciak and Mary Lou and my sister, Valerie. I took a deep breath. Sarcasm always made me feel better. “Get in the car,” I said to Grandma.
I took Chambers to Liberty and turned onto Rusling.
“It's one of these houses,” Grandma said. “I'll know it when I see it. I went to a get-?together there once.” She looked over her shoulder. “I think someone's following us. I bet it's one of them garbage people.”