“I wasn’t in a Boston creme mood,” I said. “I have a lot on my mind.”
Lula took the Boston creme. “Like what?”
“I need to find Lou Salgusta and Charlie Shine.”
“Good luck with that one,” Lula said. “Last time we tried to catch Salgusta we almost got roasted. I’m not going after him no more. And I’m not going into that tunnel again, either.”
“Okay,” I said, “but we could look for Charlie Shine. Connie thinks he might be shopping around for a new girlfriend. Do you still have friends on the street?”
“I know a couple of the older girls, but it’s been a while since I was a professional satisfier,” Lula said. “Still, I guess we could ask around tonight.”
I looked at Connie. “Do you have anything else?”
“He’s not with his wife in the Burg,” Connie said. “That’s definite. I’m thinking he’s hanging somewhere close, but not in Trenton.”
“Unless he’s with a new honey,” Lula said.
Connie and I nodded agreement.
“So, what are we gonna do now?” Lula asked
“We can look in on Rugalowski and Trotter,” I said.
“I’m not excited about that,” Lula said. “I don’t like them. I especially don’t like Arnold Rugalowski and his stupid nuts.”
“We’re going to try Rugalowski at home this time,” I said. “I’m hoping he’ll be more receptive to getting re-bonded.”
“He don’t look like he even got a home,” Lula said. “He looks like he lives in his ten-year-old Chevy Nova. I’m guessing the ex-wife got the home.”
I pulled his file out of my bag. “He gives a home address of 43 South Clinton Street.”
Lula tapped it into her phone. “That’s a weird address,” she said. “It don’t look like there’s any houses. It’s only got a cemetery on one side and some government offices on the other.”
I looked over at Connie.
“I didn’t write the bond,” Connie said. “Vinnie wrote the bond.”
“Is Vinnie coming in today?” I asked.
“Vinnie is in Vegas,” Connie said. “Poker tournament.”
I hiked my messenger bag higher onto my shoulder. “Let’s see if there’s a ten-year-old Chevy Nova parked on South Clinton.”
“I guess I could go along with that,” Lula said.
I drove a short distance down Hamilton Avenue, turned onto South Clinton, crossed over the railroad tracks, and followed Clinton to the cemetery. There were some cars parked at the curb alongside the cemetery, but none of them looked like they were home to a fry cook.
“He could be camped out inside,” Lula said. “This is a cozy cemetery. It’s got lots of trees, and I can see from here that they keep the grounds nice.”
I parked behind one of the cars.
“Hold on here,” Lula said. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to walk around and see if he’s camped out behind a tombstone.”
“I’d just as leave stay here, thank you. Cemeteries bring me down. And on top of that I’m not looking forward to seeing the roach cooker. I got a bad feeling about him.”
“Okay,” I said. “You stay here and guard the car while I prowl around the cemetery. Make sure the roach cooker doesn’t car-jack us.”