"He went to his car with the clothes. And it looked like he laid them out real careful on the backseat, although it was hard to tell from here."
"What happened next?"
"A car pulled up alongside Fred and a man got out, and him and Fred talked for a while. And then Fred got in the car with the man and they drove away. I'm pretty sure that's the last time I saw Fred. Except I can't be certain of the day. My nephew would know."
Holy shit. "Did you know the man Fred was talking to?"
"No. He wasn't familiar to me. But I got the feeling Fred knew him. They seemed friendly."
"What did he look like?"
"Goodness. I don't know. He was just a man. Ordinary."
"Caucasian?"
"Yes. And about the same height as Fred. And he was dressed in a suit."
"What color hair? Was his hair long or short?"
"It wasn't like I was paying attention to remember something," she said. "I was just passing time until Carl got here. I suppose his hair was short and maybe brown. I can't actually remember, but if it was unusual, it would have stuck in my mind."
"Would you know him if you saw him again? Would you recognize him from a picture?"
"I don't think I could say for sure. He was a ways away, you know, and I didn't see his face much."
"How about the car he was driving? Do you remember the color?"
She was silent for a moment, her eyes unfocused while she searched for a mental image of the car. "I just wasn't paying attention," she said. "I'm sorry. I can't recall the car. Except that it wasn't a truck or anything. It was a car."
"Did it look like they were arguing?"
"No. They were just talking. And then the man walked around the car and got behind the wheel. And Fred got in the passenger side. And they drove away."
I gave her my card in exchange for her name, address, and phone number. She said she didn't mind if I called to ask more questions. And she said she'd keep her eyes open and call me if she saw Fred.
I was so psyched I almost didn't see Lula standing two inches from me. "Wow!" I said, bumping into her.
"Earth to Stephanie," Lula said.
"How'd you do?" I asked her.
"Lousy. There's a bunch of dummies living here. Nobody knows nothing."
"I didn't have any luck back there, either," I said. "But I found someone in the store who saw Fred get into a car with another man."
"You shitting me?"
"Swear to God. The woman's name is Irene Tully."
"So who's the man? And where's ol' Fred?" Lula asked.
I didn't know the answers to those questions. Some of the wind went out of my sails when I realized not a whole lot had changed. I had a new puzzle piece, but I still didn't know if Fred was in Fort Lauderdale or the Camden landfill.
We'd been walking back to Lula's Firebird, and I'd been lost in thought. I looked at the Firebird and thought there was something strange about it. It hit me at the same time Lula started shrieking.
"My baby," Lula yelled. "My baby, my baby."
The Firebird was up on blocks. Someone had stolen all four wheels.
"This is just like Fred," she said. "What is this, the Bermuda Triangle?"
We got closer and looked in the car window. Lula's groceries were stuffed onto the front seat, and two of the wheels were in the back. Lula popped the trunk and found her other two wheels.
"What the hell?" she said.
An old brown Dodge rolled to a stop beside us. Bunchy.
Okay, who do we know who can open doors without keys? Who has a score to settle with Lula? And who has returned to the scene of the crime?
"Not bad," I said to Bunchy. "Sort of a sadistic sense of humor . . . but not bad."
He smiled at my comment and eyed the car. "You ladies got a problem?"
"Someone took the wheels off my Firebird," Lula said, looking like she'd figured it out, too. "Don't suppose you know who could've done something like this."
"Vandals?"
"Vandals, my ass."
"I have to be getting along now," Bunchy said, smiling ear to ear. "Toodles."
Lula hauled a small cannon out of her shoulder bag and pointed it at Bunchy. "You slime-faced bag of monkey shit."
The smile was gone in a flash, and Bunchy laid rubber out of the lot.
"Good thing I got auto club," Lula said.
An hour later, I was back in my Buick. I was running short on time, but I wanted to talk to Mabel.
I almost zipped right past her house, because the '87 Pontiac station wagon wasn't parked at the curb. In its place was a new silver-gray Nissan Sentra.
"Where's the station wagon?" I asked Mabel when she answered the door.
"Traded it in," she said. "I never did like driving that big old boat." She looked at her new car and smiled. "What do you think? Isn't it zippy-looking?"
"Yeah," I said. "Zippy. I ran into someone today who said she might have seen Fred."
"Oh, dear," Mabel said. "Don't tell me you've found him."
I blinked twice because she hadn't sounded like that would be happy news. "No."
She put her hand to her heart. "Thank goodness. I don't mean to sound uncaring, but you know, I just bought the car, and Fred wouldn't understand about the car."
Okay, now we know where Fred stacks up against a Nissan Sentra. "Anyway, this woman said she might have seen Fred on the day he disappeared. She said she thought she saw Fred talking to a man in a suit. Do you have any idea who the man might be?"
"No. Do you?"
Question number two. "It's very important that I know everything Fred did the day before he disappeared."
"It was just like all the other days," Mabel said. "He didn't do anything in the morning. Puttered around the house. Then we ate lunch, and he went out to the store."
"Grand Union?"
"Yes. And he was only gone about an hour. We didn't need much. And then he worked in the yard, cleaning up the last of the leaves. That was all he did."
"Did he go out at night?"
"No . . . wait, yes, he went out with the leaves. If you have too many bags of leaves, you have to pay extra to the garbage company. So whenever Fred had more than his allotted number of bags, he'd wait until it was dark, and then he'd drive one or two bags to Giovichinni's. He said it was the least Giovichinni could do for him being that he always overcharged on his meat."
"When did Fred leave the house Friday morning?"
"Early. Around eight, I guess. When he came home he was complaining because he had to wait for RGC to open."
"And when did he come back to the house?"
"I don't remember exactly. Maybe around eleven. He was home for lunch."
"That's a long time just to go to RGC to complain about a bill."
Mabel looked thoughtful. "I didn't really pay much attention, but I guess you're right."
He didn't go to Winnie's because he was there in the afternoon.
While I was in the neighborhood I cruised over to the Ruzicks'. The bakery was on the corner, and the rest of the houses on the street were duplexes. The Ruzick house was yellow brick with a yellow-brick stoop in front and a front yard that was three feet deep. Mrs. Ruzick kept her windows clean and her porch swept. There were no cars in front of the house. The backyard was long and narrow, leading to an alley that was one lane wide. The duplexes were divided by double driveways, at the end of which sat single-car garages.
I toyed with the idea of talking to Mrs. Ruzick, but gave it up. She had a reputation for being outspoken and had always been fiercely protective of her two worthless sons. I went to Sandy Polan instead.
"Wow, Stephanie!" Sandy said when she opened the door. "I haven't seen you in a long time. What's up?"
"I need a snitch."
"Let me guess. You're looking for Alphonse Ruzick."
"Have you seen him?"
"No, but he'll be around. He always comes to eat Saturday dinner with Mama. He is such a loser."
"Would you mind doing lookout for me? I'd do it myself, but I have to go to a wedding this afternoon."
"Oh my God. You're going to Julie Morelli's wedding! It's true about you and Joe."
"What about me and Joe?"