Diesel opened his eyes. “What?”
“I need to use the bathroom and you have a death grip on me.”
“Sorry,” he said, releasing me. “You kept sliding onto the floor. I was afraid you were going to get a concussion.”
I stood and stretched, and Diesel sat up.
“Listen,” he said. “Silence. You should check to see if she’s breathing.”
I knocked on the bedroom door, opened it a crack, and peeked in. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck, but aside from that I’m good.”
“The dress I bought you is on the dresser.”
“I’ll be out in a minute. I need coffee bad.”
I closed the door and turned to Diesel. “She’s alive. And here’s more good news. When you sleep in your clothes it makes the morning so much easier. I don’t have to get dressed.”
“That would work if it wasn’t for the vodka rigatoni stain on your shirt,” Diesel said.
I looked down at my shirt. “Damn.”
I went to the kitchen and got coffee brewing. Lula limped in a couple of minutes later.
“This dress is real comfy,” she said, “but I feel like I’m wearing a tent. Everything’s all loose around me. Nothing’s squeezing me together. I’m all jiggly. I feel like Jell-O.”
I was going to have to inject bleach into my brain to get rid of the mental image of Lula as jiggly Jell-O.
“I’m going to take a fast shower and then I’m going to the office,” I said. “Do you feel well enough to go home?”
“Yeah, I’ll be slow on the stairs but aside from that I’m okay. And if we stop at the office on the way, I can get my morning doughnut.”
I planned out the day while I was in the shower. Stop at the office, take Lula home, pop in at Rangeman to talk to Melvin and Charlotte, check with Diesel on possible O.W. sightings. Ditto Morelli.
My hair was still wet when I collected Lula in the kitchen and maneuvered her out of the apartment, into the elevator, and across the parking lot.
“I’m going to be more selective who I shoot after this,” Lula said, easing herself into the passenger seat. “This is a total bummer. You just don’t want to go around shooting indiscriminately. It looks like a little bullet but turns out it’s a big deal when they gotta dig it out of you. Who would have thought?”
“Really?”
“I guess I always knew it was a big deal,” Lula said, “but it’s different when it’s you that got shot. It gives you a different perspective. Like I might still shoot someone if I have to, but I’ll feel more sorry for them.”
“Are you sure you want to stop at the office?”
“Hell yeah. And I deserve the Boston crème on account of I’m wounded.”
I parked at the curb and left Lula in the car.
“Lula is on her way home, but she wants a doughnut,” I told Connie.
“Take the box,” Connie said. “I already had one.”
“Anything new come in? Any gossip about Oswald?”
“Nothing. It’s been quiet. My mom’s going to bingo tonight. She might pick up something there.”
I gave Lula the box of doughnuts and pulled into traffic.
“I’ve gotta make another appointment with my cosmic advisor,” Lula said. “I need to know when my moons are going back to where they’re supposed to be. I gotta do something to help my juju.”
“Maybe it would help if you stopped waving your gun around, yelling that you were going to shoot people.”
“That’s not it,” Lula said. “I was doing my job. I should have gotten good points for that. It’s definitely about the moons.”
I parked in front of Lula’s apartment and helped her up the stairs.
“It’s not so bad if I go up one step at a time,” Lula said, letting herself into her small apartment. “And it feels good to be home. It was nice at your place, but I kept getting woke up by someone snoring.”
“Me, too,” I said. “It should be better tonight. Let me know if you need anything.”
I left Lula and drove to Rangeman. Ranger’s parking spots were all filled so I was pretty sure he was upstairs. I parked in a place reserved for visitors and went directly to the third floor. He was waiting for me when I stepped into his office.
“You saw me on a monitor?” I asked.
“At the gate. When you parked, and in the elevator,” he said.