“Help yourself,” Lula said, nudging a cardboard carton. “We got lots. We got fried rice, shrimp clumps and Kung Fu something.”
I picked at a shrimp clump. “Heard from Vinnie yet?”
“Not a word,” Connie said.
“How about Joyce? Heard from her?”
“Nope. And she hasn't brought Maxine in, either.”
“I been thinking about Maxine,” Lula said. “I think she's in Point Pleasant. And I wouldn't be surprised if her mama was there, too. That Atlantic City thing was a big phony wild-?goose chase to keep us away from Point Pleasant. Her getaway don't feel right. That car was sitting there waiting for her to come out and take off. I think her mama set us up.”
I tried some of the Kung Fu stuff. “I've been thinking the same thing.”
* * * * *
LULA AND I stood in the middle of the boardwalk, across from the Parrot Bar, and clipped our pagers onto our shorts. I was wearing Day-?Glo orange running shorts that had been on sale at Foot Locker, and Lula was wearing yellow-?and-?black tiger-?striped spandex. She'd had her yellow ringlets beaded so that all over her head were four-?inch strands of fluorescent pink, poison-?green and bright yellow beads. It was ninety-?six in the shade, the ocean was millpond calm, the sky was a cloudless azure, and you could fry an egg on the sand. We were here to find Maxine, but already I could see Lula getting distracted by the frozen custard stand.
“This is the plan,” I said to Lula. “You're going to hang out here and keep your eye on the Parrot Bar, and I'm going to canvass the beach and the boardwalk. Page me if you see Maxine or anyone associated with her.”
“Don't worry, nobody'll get by me. I'd just like to see that bony-?ass mother. I'll grab her by what little hair she's got left, and I'll—”
“No! No grabbing, no shooting, no gassing, no stun-?gunning If you spot someone just stick with them until I get to you.”
“Suppose it's self-?defense?”
“There will be no self-?defense. Don't let anyone see you. Try to blend in.”
“I need an ice cream to blend in,” Lula said, her hair beads jumping around, clacking every time she moved her head. “You give me an ice cream and I'll look like everybody else here.”
Well hell, Tallulah, then go get an ice cream.
I walked north first. I'd brought a pair of mini-?binoculars that I trained on the beach since Maxine seemed like the sunbather type. I went slowly and methodically, wandering through the arcades and bars. I walked beyond the amusement area to where the boardwalk was plain old boardwalk. After an hour of this I turned and headed back to Lula.
“Haven't seen anybody I know,” Lula said when I reached her. “No Maxine. No Maxine's mama. No Joyce. No Travolta.”
I stared into the bar across the way, and I didn't see any of those people, either. I took a brush and an elastic scrunchy out of my bag and pulled my hair back, off my neck, into a ponytail. I had a real desire to jump in the ocean, but I decided to settle for a lemonade. I was down to the wire with Maxine. I didn't have time to waste on such frivolity as lowering my body temperature.
I left Lula on the bench, got a lemonade and continued to walk and to scan the south end of the beach. I walked past a series of spin-?the-?wheel games and came to an arcade. I stepped into the cool shade and moseyed past the claw machines and the skillo ramps. I looked over at the wall where the prizes were displayed and stopped in my tracks. A woman stood at the wall, surveying the prizes. Five pieces of Farberware for 40,000 points. Wooden lighthouse for 9,450. Looney Tunes watch, 8,450. Dirt Devil, 40,100. Boom box, 98,450 points. The woman seemed to be counting the tickets she held in her hand. One hand held the tickets. And the other hand was heavily bandaged. She had brown hair, slim body.
I stepped farther back in the room and waited to see her face. She stood there for a moment longer, turned and walked to the redemption desk. It was Margie. I scooted past the desk, behind Margie's back, out to the boardwalk and paged Lula. She was just a short distance away. She looked up when the pager went off. I caught her eye and gave her a “come here” wave.
Margie was still at the desk when Lula trotted up.
“What's going on?” Lula asked.
“You remember I told you about Maxine's friend, Margie?”
“The one had her finger chopped off.”
“Yes. That's her at the redemption desk.”
“Point Pleasant sure is a popular place.”
Margie took a large box from an arcade employee and moved to the side door that opened to the street. She passed through the door and turned right, away from the boardwalk. Lula and I watched her walk to the end of the block and cross the street. We followed after her, Lula a little less than a block away and me behind Lula. Margie crossed another street, continued on and went into a house in the middle of the next block.
We held our positions and watched for a while, but Margie didn't come out. The house was a single-?story bungalow with a small front porch. Surrounding houses were similar. Lots were small. Cars were parked on both sides of the street.
We weren't in a good position to conduct any kind of surveillance. We'd driven to Point Pleasant in a car that drew attention. My only consolation was that even if we had a more generic car, there were no parking places open.