Page 37 of Now or Never

I looked at Lula. “Are you on board?”

“I guess,” Lula said. “One of us has to carry the garlic.”

I took Route 1 north to County Road 522 and followed the directions given by the GPS lady. We rolled into Jamesburg in thirty-five minutes start to finish.

“This is kind of nice,” Lula said. “Lots of grass and trees and white houses with black shutters and front porches. And there’s a sign for a country club. I wouldn’t mind joining a country club. I would fit right in. I could learn how to play golf and tennis. I could see myself in one of those little tennis outfits. I’d be looking good, whacking the ball in my little white skirt and thong.”

“They probably wouldn’t let you wear a thong.”

“What do you mean? Everyone wears a thong.”

“Not on a tennis court.”

“How about in France?”

“I don’t know about France.”

“They probably got naked tennis in France,” Lula said. “And Denmark.”

The GPS lady told me to turn left into Green Garden Estates. A sign said that it was a community for active senior living.

“What’s active senior living?” Lula said. “How active do you gotta be to live here? Do they give you a test? Like, could you get in if you could only do two or three jumping jacks? Suppose you’re in a coma? You probably couldn’t live here.”

I turned onto Whippoorwill Lane and stopped in front of number 25. “This is it.”

“These are all one-story ranch houses on this street. I’m guessing this is the street for people who have low activity expectations and can’t climb stairs,” Lula said. “So, when they say active seniors, I’m thinking the bar might be set pretty low.”

“Here are the rules,” I said to Lula. “When we go in to talk toZoran’s parents, you will let me do the talking. You will not take your garlic out of your bag. You will not ask them if someone in a coma can live here.”

“Hunh, there you go with the rules, again. It’s like you don’t trust me to say the right thing.”

“Exactly. And I also would appreciate it if you didn’t shoot anyone or threaten to shoot someone.”

“Okay, I guess I could see that.”

We went to the door, and I rang the bell. A woman opened the door a crack and peeked out. She looked to be very fit and in her sixties with a short brown bob and minimal makeup.

“Yes?” she asked.

“I’m looking for Zoran,” I said. “Is he here?”

“No,” she said. “What is this about?”

I gave her one of my business cards. “I work for his bail bond agent. Zoran missed his scheduled court date, and I would like to help him reschedule. Are you Pat? Are you his mom?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m Pat. I don’t know where Zoran is right now.”

“If he doesn’t reschedule, he’ll be considered a felon,” I told her. “Do you have any idea where I might find him? I’ve already tried his house and the laundromat.”

“You’ve been to the laundromat?”

“Yes.”

“The police were just here. They said there was an accident at the laundromat.”

I nodded. “A woman was killed.”

“Terrible,” Zoran’s mom said. “Just terrible.”

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