Page 88 of Now or Never

“I remember that because it was like ‘Hansel and Gretel,’?” Lula said. “Anything else go down?”

“A woman was killed about a quarter mile from my apartment. Looked like she was jogging, and someone came from behind and bashed her head in, and then dragged her into a wooded area, and bit her in the neck and then cut her jugular,” I said. “We’re thinking it might have been Zoran.”

Lula threw up in Connie’s wastebasket, and I ran to the bathroom and got some wet paper towels.

“Sorry,” Lula said, “but it was like the laundromat all over again.”

“I went to the crime scene with Morelli, but I didn’t look at the victim. I kept a distance.”

“So, that was a good weekend?” Lula asked.

“It ended good. Afterward, I went to Pino’s with Morelli and told him I needed some time to think, and it was all right with him.”

“He’s a good guy,” Lula said.

“Do you know who Bautista is?” I asked them.

“WWE,” Connie said. “And he was in that movie with the kid who wanted to be a spy.”

“My Spy,” Lula said. “I love that movie. The kid was great. She had awesome hair. Her hair was the best part of the movie.”

“She had hair like you,” Connie said.

“Yeah,” Lula said. “We got perfect hair.”

Lula went to the bathroom to freshen up and I ran my FTA list by Connie.

“I have Zachary Zell outstanding,” I said. “He’s going to try to get the charges dropped. And then I have Bruno Jug, who promised to come in when the time was right. And Zoran.”

“The time might be right for Jug,” Connie said. “His lawyer was all over the local news yesterday. It turns out that the girl wasn’t fourteen years old. She was nineteen. And she wasn’t date raped with a drug. She was a hooker who decided to squeeze Jug for some money. Apparently, Jug had previously interacted with her, and she’d been getting more than fruit baskets for services given. So, the scandal has changed from raping a young girl to having a hooker make house calls. Or in this case it was warehouse calls.”

I looked at Lula. “Do you want to go for a ride? Now that thescandal has been downgraded to something worthy of a big yawn, I’m thinking Jug might have returned to Trenton.”

“As long as you don’t talk about vampires.”

I grabbed a doughnut out of the box on Connie’s desk, wrapped it in a paper napkin, and stuffed it into my hoodie pocket.

I drove to the produce warehouse first. I thought the chances of him being there were slim, but it was only fifteen minutes from the bail bonds office, and it was on the way to Jug’s house.

“We don’t have cupcakes to tempt Bruno,” Lula said.

“He already got his cupcakes. This trip he’s going to have to be satisfied with sitting next to you.”

“I guess that’s a big treat right there,” Lula said. “Not every man gets to sit next to Lula.”

I turned onto State Street and slowed when I got to Jug Produce. The TV satellite truck wasn’t there but a handful of photographers were camped out across the street from the front entrance. I drove around the block to the warehouse gate and found a couple photographers there too.

“I don’t know what this country’s coming to when the big news of the day is Bruno Jug with a ho,” Lula said. “That’s as interesting as finding Colonel Sanders eating fried chicken. You’d think these photographers could find someone better to harass.”

I’d had my share of unflattering press moments, and I thought this could easily be added to that list, so I parked one street over and called Jug. No answer on his cell phone. I called the office and asked for Jug.

“Mr. Jug won’t be in his office today,” a woman said. “Can I take a message?”

“Tell him Stephanie called,” I said, and hung up.

“Do you think that’s true?” Lula said. “Jug could be in there, hiding under his desk, eating ice cream.”

“I think he’s hiding in his house, eating oatmeal with the bimbo.”

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