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. . . talking to people.”
    “Don’t seem right to kick him out before he eats his pie,” Lula said. She looked over the seatback at him. “You gonna eat that whole thing?”
    “Alright, he can stay,” I said. “But no talking to people. He has to stay in the car.”
    “Like I’m the wheel guy, right?” he said. “In case you have to make a fast getaway.”
    “
No
. There will be no fast getaways. And you’re not the wheel guy. You don’t drive.
I
drive.”
    “Sure. I know that,” he said.
    I rolled out of the lot, found Hamilton Avenue, andtook it to the Burg, left-turning at St. Francis Hospital. I wound my way through the maze of streets and came to an idle in front of Evelyn’s house. The neighborhood was quiet at midday. No kids on bikes. No porch sitters. No traffic to speak of.
    I wanted to talk to Evelyn’s neighbors, but I didn’t want to do it with Lula and Kloughn tagging along. Lula scared the hell out of people. And Kloughn made us look like religious missionaries. I parked the car at the curb, Lula and I got out, and I pocketed the key. “Let’s just take a look around,” I said to Lula.
    She cut her eyes to Kloughn, sitting in the backseat. “You think we should crack a window for him? Isn’t there a law about that sort of thing?”
    “I think the law applies to dogs.”
    “Seems like he fits in there, somehow,” Lula said. “Actually, he’s kind of cute, in a white bread kind of way.”
    I didn’t want to go back to the car and open the door. I was afraid Kloughn would bound out. “He’ll be okay,” I said. “We won’t be that long.”
    We walked to the porch, and I rang the bell. No answer. Still couldn’t see in the front window.
    Lula put her ear to the door. “I don’t hear anything going on in there,” she said.
    We walked around the house and looked in the kitchen window. The same two cereal bowls and glasses were on the counter next to the sink.
    “We need to look around inside,” Lula said. “I bet the house is lousy with clues.”
    “No one has a key.”
    Lula tried the window. “Locked.” She gave the doorthe once-over. “Of course, we’re bounty hunters and if we think there’s some bad guy in there we have the right to bust the door apart.”
    I’ve been known to bend the law a little from time to time, but this was a multiple fracture. “I don’t want to ruin Evelyn’s door,” I said.
    I saw Lula eye the window.
    “And I don’t want to break her window. We’re not acting as bond enforcement here, and we have no ground for forced entry.”
    “Yeah, but if the window broke by accident it would be neighborly of us to investigate it. Like, maybe we could fix it from the inside.” Lula swung her big black leather shoulder bag in an arc and smashed the window. “Oops,” she said.
    I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the door. I took a deep breath and told myself to stay calm. Sure, I’d like to yell at Lula and maybe choke her, but what would that accomplish? “You’re going to pay to have that window fixed,” I told her.
    “The hell I am. This here’s a rental. They got insurance on stuff like this.” She knocked out a few remaining pieces of glass, stuck her arm through the open window, and unlocked the door.
    I pulled some disposable rubber gloves out of my bag and we snapped them on. No point leaving prints all over since this was sort of an illegal entry. With the kind of luck I had, someone would come in and burgle the place and the police would find my prints.
    Lula and I slipped into the kitchen and closed the door behind us. It was a small kitchen, and with Lula next to me we were wall-to-wall people.
    “Maybe you should do lookout in the front room,” I said. “Make sure no one walks in on us.”
    “Lookout is my middle name,” Lula said. “No one will get by me.”
    I started with the countertop, going through the usual kitchen clutter. There were no messages written on the pad by the phone. I rifled