Free Hardcore Twenty-Four by Janet Evanovich

make from my vantage point. A Rangeman guy stood by the smaller car. I grabbed my messenger bag and went downstairs.
    â€œFrom Ranger,” the Rangeman guy said, handing me the key.
    It was a Lexus NX 330 F Sport. Shiny new. Didn’t smell like an outhouse. I got behind the wheel, and Ranger’s men drove off. My plan was to retrieve Lula from the bonds office, take a pizza to Ethel, and hunt down Johnny Chucci.
    Lula was pacing when I got to the office.
    â€œI’ve got the creeps,” she said. “I feel like I’m being followed. Like someone’s spying on me.”
    â€œWho?” I asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” Lula said. “It’s just one of them feelings.”
    Connie looked at me and rolled her eyes. This was just short of making one of those circular motions with your finger alongside your head to signify crazy.
    â€œMaybe you’re hungry,” I said to Lula. “I promised Ethel I’d bring her a pizza. We could get one for you too.”
    â€œI’d never refuse a pizza,” Lula said. “Especially if it was a Pino’s pizza.”
    Twenty minutes later I was on my way to Diggery’s. Lula had a pizza with the works in a box on her lap, and there was a sausage and extra cheese on the back seat for Ethel. I had her figured for a meat lover.
    â€œI’m feeling better already,” Lula said, selecting a second piece. “I don’t know what came over me. It was like my skin was crawling. You ever get that? I mean, I’m not necessarily a nervous person. I don’t have any of them panic attacks, so this was weird. I just knew something was wrong.”
    â€œBut it’s not wrong now?”
    â€œNot so much. I’m settling in with the pizza. You could always count on melted cheese to have a calming effect.”
    I turned onto Diggery’s road and cringed when I passed the demolished outhouse. Not one of my finer moments.
    â€œIt was a lucky break that Ethel decided to go home,” Lula said. “I have to tell you until that happened I wasn’t sure it was Ethel.”
    And it was still possible that it wasn’t Ethel. The only thing I knew for certain was that the snake liked hot dogs.
    I parked close to Diggery’s front door and did a fast scan for snakes and zombies. I didn’t see either, so I gave the pizza to the snake in residence and took off.
    â€œI suppose we’ll go looking for Zero Slick now,” Lula said. “How do you think he came up with a name like that?”
    â€œMaybe that’s the way he thinks of himself. Zero slickness.”
    â€œThat might indicate low self-esteem. He could be a man trying to find himself. He could be a victim of bullying at a young age. Or maybe he doesn’t want to be one of those phony slick guys. Maybe he’s saying he’s real. If you look at it that way he could be attractively manly.”
    â€œHe didn’t look attractively manly when he hit me with his sign. He looked like a brainless jerk.”
    â€œYou got a point. And he was insulting about my abundant body. He might be losing some of his appeal for me.”
    My plan was to walk the streets surrounding the building Slick destroyed. This was an area of mostly office buildings with occasional ground-floor shops. There was a church nearby that gave out sandwiches to the homeless every day at noon. A small group of men and women never left the area around the church. They moved about like pack animals, sleeping in doorways. Some were crazy because they were off their meds, and others were crazy because they were overmedicated. I thought I’d show Slick’s photo to the crazies, the shopkeepers, and the loiterers and see if anyone had seen him.
    I approached the burned-out building and saw the flashing lights of police cruisers a block away.
    â€œLooks like something’s going on at the homeless church,” Lula said. “Maybe it’s a