Lula and I speed-walked out of the store and rammed ourselves into the Firebird.

'Look on the bright side,' Lula said. 'You got a free dildo. And you got a great movie. Happy birthday early.'

'I don't need a dildo.'

'Sure you do. You never know when it might come in handy. And this Herbert Horsecock dildo's got some heft to it. You could use it as a doorstop, or a paperweight, or you could decorate it with those little twinkle lights at Christmas.'

'I need an apprehension. Vinnie isn't the only one worried about money. I need rent money.' I shuffled through the files. 'I want to do phone work on some of these. Make some calls to verify employment. See if anyone's at the home address. Let's go back to the office.'

'Where am I supposed to park?' Lula wanted to know. 'There's not supposed to be people parked in this lot back here. This is a private lot for the bonds office. We should call the cops on these people.' She circled around the block and looked for a spot on the street. 'I swear I've never seen so many cars. They must be having a party at the beauty parlor.'

'Carmen hasn't moved from her spot,' I said.

Lula glanced over as she crept down the street, looking for a parking space. 'She's hunkered in. Ranger really pissed her off.'

I was still having a hard time believing Carmen's story. I couldn't see Ranger married. And I couldn't see Ranger cleaning out the bank account. Ranger played a little loose with the law, but he had a very firm moral code. And from what I could see, he wasn't hurting for money.

I checked my phone to make sure it was on, and I hadn't missed a call.

'Still haven't heard from him?' Lula asked.

'No. He must be underground.'

He'd only been gone for twenty-four hours. It was too early to be worried about his safety. But I was worried all the same. It was all too weird.

Lula parked two cars down from me, and we walked to the office. I watched the black SUV for a protruding gun barrel but saw none. When we got to the office we realized it was packed with people.

'What the heck?' Lula said, pushing through the mob to Connie.

Connie was at her desk, trying to talk to the people crowded directly in front of her.

'I ran an ad in the paper this morning for the bond enforcement agent job,' she said to me. 'And this is the response. And the phone hasn't stopped ringing. I had to turn it over to the answering service so I could try to clear this out.'

'Looks like they emptied out the funny farm and everyone came here,' Lula said. 'Who are these people? They look like movie extras. They all look like that bounty hunter guy on television, only most of them have better hair. I tell you, they should take that TV bounty hunter guy to the beauty parlor.'

Connie handed me a steno pad and pen. 'You take the front of the room, and I'll take the back. Get names and phone numbers and some work information and tell them we'll be in touch. Put a star by anyone who has potential.'

Forty-five minutes later, the last of the BEA wannabes walked out the door, and Connie hung out a CLOSED sign. Two people were left sitting on the couch. Joyce Barnhardt and Melvin Pickle.

Joyce was dressed in black leather, her eyes heavily lined in black, her red hair teased and lacquered, her lips artificially inflated and painted red to match her hair. She had her arms crossed, and her legs crossed, and her foot jiggled impatiently in stiletto-heeled boots.

Joyce was a flesh-eating fungus. She'd been through more husbands than I could count, and each time she chewed them up and spit them out, she got richer. Three months of marriage to Joyce, and a man was willing to bankrupt himself to get free. When I was in first grade, Joyce threw my crayons in the toilet. When I was in second grade, she spit in my lunch. In third grade she told everybody I didn't wear underpants. In fourth grade she said I had three nipples. In high school she somehow took a picture of me in the girls' locker room and had it made into a flyer and distributed two hundred.

'I am very insulted by this whole piece of shit,' Joyce said. 'If you needed another bounty hunter, why didn't you call me? You know Vinnie brings me in when he needs help.'

'First off,' Connie said, 'Vinnie doesn't bring you in when he needs help. He brings you in when he needs to fornicate with a barnyard animal. And second, I didn't call you because we all hate you.'

'And?' Joyce said.

'And that's it,' Connie said.

'So why didn't you call me?'

Melvin Pickle was sitting beside Joyce. He looked like he was trying to be invisible.

'Who's this little turd?' Joyce said, turning to Pickle.

'He's going to be doing some filing for us,' Connie said.

'Why did he get a job, and I didn't get a job?' Joyce wanted to know. 'What's so special about him?'

'I'm a pervert,' Pickle said.

'And?' Joyce said. 'Hello-o-o. What am I, chopped liver?'

'Why don't you let her work the LC file?' I said to Connie. 'The one you keep in your bottom drawer.'

'What's LC stand for?' Joyce asked.

'Large cash,' I told her. Also, lost cause, but she probably didn't want to be bothered knowing that.

Connie pulled seven folders out of her bottom desk drawer and gave the top three to Joyce. 'Here you go,' she said to Joyce. 'Good luck. Nice seeing you. Mazel tov.'

Joyce took the folders and looked down at Pickle. 'Love the herpes. Adds color to your face.'

'Thank you,' Pickle said, his hand to his mouth, covering the herpes. 'Have a nice day.'

Connie locked the door after her. 'I swear she's the Antichrist. I always smell sulfur burning when she's in the office.'

'Maybe it's the salve I put on my cold sore,' Pickle said.

'I don't want to be mean about it,' Lula said to Pickle, 'but you might want to think about wearing a mask and rubber gloves when you do the filing.'

'It's going away,' Pickle said.

We all gave an involuntary shudder.

'I'll go through the list of freaks and line up some interviews,' Connie said to me. 'I'll schedule them for tomorrow morning. I'd like you to be here to help.'

'Sure.' I looked at my watch. One o'clock. Luis Queen would be on his corner. 'New game plan,' I said to Lula. 'Let's go get Luis, and then I'll do my phone work from home.'

Luis Queen is a slim, five-foot-four-inch Hispanic sweetie pie. He turns tricks for a living and doesn't discriminate between male and female. I've been told he'll do anything, and I prefer not to think about that too much. He works the corner across from the train station. The police have pretty much cleaned that area out, except for Luis Queen. Luis refuses to leave. Which is why he got picked up for soliciting.

Luis was wearing a pristine white tank top today, the better to show the muscle definition in his arms and his freshly shaved chest. He was in tight jeans, trimmed out in a wide belt decorated with rhinestones. And he was strutting his stuff in his trademark black lizard-skin cowboy boots.

Lula pulled to the curb, and I rolled my window down to talk to him.

'Look who's here,' Luis said, big smile. 'My favorite bounty hunters. You girls need something from Luis? I got a few minutes for you. You need to get relaxed?'

'Tempting,' I said, 'but I had other plans for you. You missed your court date. You need to rebond. Get in the car, and we'll give you a ride.'

'Oh man,' Luis said. 'You gonna ruin my business day. This is my housewife time. They come for a little tickle from Luis before the kiddies get out of school.'

'Are you going to make me come out there and get you?'