“Oops,” Lula said.
We got out to take a look. The car in front had a nasty crumple in its left rear quarter panel. The Nissan had a chunk torn out of its snoot and a deep gash in its bumper.
The man driving the car in front of us wasn't happy. “Why don't you watch where you're going?” he yelled at Lula. “Why don't you learn how to drive?”
“Don't you yell at me,” Lula told him. “I don't take no yelling at. And on top of that I can drive just fine. It happens that my vehicle wasn't working properly.”
“You got insurance?” the man wanted to know.
“Damn skippy I got insurance,” Lula said. “Not only do I have insurance, but I'm filling out a police report. And on that police report I'm telling them about your brake lights all covered with dirt and ice, which were a contributing factor.”
I exchanged information with the man, and Lula and I turned back to the Nissan.
“Uh-oh,” Lula said, opening the driver's side door. “I don't see Stuart Baggett in here. Stuart Baggett's done the good-bye thing.”
Cars were lined up behind us, straggling around the accident one at a time. I climbed into the truck bed to get some height and looked in all directions, up and down the road, but Stuart was nowhere to be seen. I thunked my head with the heel of my hand. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I hadn't even cuffed him.
“He didn't look smart enough to run off,” Lula said.
“Deceptively cute.”
“Yeah, that was it. Deceptively cute.”
“I suppose we should go to the police station and file an accident report,” I said.
“Yeah, and we don't want to forget about the dirty taillights. Insurance companies love that shit.”
I piled in next to Lula, and we kept our eyes open for Stuart as we drove, but Stuart was long gone.
Lula looked nervous when we finally chugged into the lot for the municipal building that housed the courts and the police station. “I'd appreciate it if you'd run in and fill out the form,” Lula said. “Wouldn't want anybody to get the wrong idea about me being at the police station. Think they see me sitting on the bench they might take away my shoelaces.”
I had my hand on the door handle. “You aren't going to leave me stranded again, are you?”
“Who me?”
It took me a half hour to complete the paperwork. When I exited the building there was no blue Nissan parked in the lot and no blue Nissan parked on the street. I wasn't surprised. I went back into the station and called the office.
“I'm stranded again,” I said to Connie.
I could hear wrappers rustling, and I could hear Connie swallow.
“What is that?” I demanded. “Are you eating hot dogs? Let me talk to Lula.”
“ 'Lo,” Lula said. “What's up?”
“I'm wet and cold and stranded . . . that's what's up. And I'm hungry. You better not have eaten all those hot dogs.”
“We would have waited for you, but didn't seem right to let the food set around.”
There was a pause, and I could hear her sipping soda.
“You want a ride?” she finally said. “I could come get you.”
“That would be nice.”
A half hour later we were back at the office. Lula's hooker friend Jackie was there, and she was eating a hot dog.
“Hey, girlfriend,” Lula shouted to Jackie. “You come to see me?”