“Keep a watch out for Lizzy,” I said.
“I can’t see. My vision is blurry,” Potts said. “I’m pretty sure I’m having an ocular migraine.”
“Maybe we should take him to the hospital,” Lula said.
“What does Lizzy look like?” I asked Potts.
“She’s black. I think she said that she’s from Haiti. And she had dreads with beads in them.”
“There she is,” Lula said, pointing to three women clustered on a corner. “And I know the other two hookers.”
I pulled over and Lula stuck her head out the window. “Hey, ladies,” she said. “How’s business?”
They trotted over and Lula introduced us. “This is Lucy, and this is Sharon,” Lula said. “We shared a corner together just before I retired from the profession.”
“We heard you got hurt real bad,” Lucy said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” Lula said. “I’m working in bail bonds now. We’re looking for a guy. Charlie Shine. Any of you know him?”
“Patches was spending time with him,” Lizzy said. “She talked about him a lot. I got the idea he was an older gentleman with a lot of money, but I never got to see him.”
“Do you know where we can find Patches?” I asked.
“Usually she’s across the street,” Lizzy said, “but she hasn’t been showing up.”
“It’s been a week since we’ve seen her,” Sharon said. “We’re a little worried.”
“Have you tried to get in touch with her?” I asked.
“She isn’t answering her cell phone, and Lizzy went to see her, but no one answered the door.”
Lizzy looked into the car. “Is that Georgy in the backseat? Hi, honey, are you doing okay?”
“I’m a little light-headed,” Potts said.
“No doubt from that PTSD you got,” Lizzy said.
“If you give us Patches’s address, we’ll look in on her,” I said.
“Sure,” Lizzy said. “She got a room on Parker Street. Second floor. You can’t miss the building. It’s got a big red peace sign painted on it still from the seventies.”
“I’ll let you know if we see her,” Lula said.
“Appreciate it, honey. You stay well.”
I drove away and Potts started humming.
“What’s he doing?” Lula asked.
“Humming,” I said. “He hums when he has anxiety. It keeps him calm.”
“It’s annoying,” Lula said. “He’s not humming a song or anything. He’s just freaking humming.”
“The alternative might be diarrhea,” I said.
“How about the alternative be we chuck him out of the car and let him call Uber.”
“I can hear you,” Potts said. “You’re making me more panicky. My heart is racing. I think I have tachycardia. I’ve got spots in front of my eyes and I might see an angel. There’s something floating in front of the car.”