Lula and I were sitting in a booth at Cluck In A Bucket the following afternoon. Lula had been shopping and got her hair and nails done while I spent most of the day waiting for copies of Joyce's records to the expedited. It cost more than I thought, and, after buying us a late lunch, I was officially broke.
"This is unbelievable," Lula said. "I knew Joyce had a lot of ex-husbands, but I had no idea who they were."
"Me either," I said. I had a blank legal pad Lula had borrowed from the office, and we were trying to compile a list of the husbands in chronological order, along with any pertinent information we might be able to use against Joyce.
"What do we have so far?" Lula asked, polishing off her fries and preparing to get a re-fill on her Coke.
"First, there was the plumber."
"Hank Anders." Lula made a sucking sound with her empty straw. "Why does that name sound familiar?"
"Anders Plumbing tried to buy out Stankovic and Sons Plumbing and Heating."
My best friend from school, Mary Lou Molnar, had married Lenny Stankovic, captain of the football team. He was a co-owner of the family business.
"Oh yeah. You told me about that once, right? And Stankovic senior refused to sell, so Anders started some ugly rumors and tried to steal Stankovic's customers. Then there was some kind of defamation law suit, and Anders was put out of business, right?"
"Yep," I said, checking the dates. "Sound like anyone we know?"
"Hold on." Lula's eyes were bugging. "That's Joyce's MO. You tellin' me it was Joyce behind that mess?"
"I'm starting to wonder." I paged through the documents. "Looks like Joyce filed for divorce when Anders filed for bankruptcy and the business folded."
"Guess she was through with him."
"It must have been true love," I said sarcastically.
Lula got up for a re-fill and tossed the trays so we had more room to spread out on the table. "Who's next?"
"Husband number two was David Rogenbach, the attorney."
"An attorney? Like Dickie?"
"This was actually during the time I was married to Dickie." I did a little mental math. "They got married about a month after the Dick and I got married."
"You're serious?"
"Yes." I was floored. I had been far too involved with my own marital mess to consider what was going on with Joyce at that time.
"David Rogenbach used to advertise on bus benches. I remember he had this stupid look on his face in the add, so Jackie and I used to..."
"I get it!" I shot her a look. I could guess what Jackie and Lula used to do down on Stark Street when they were sharing a corner. Lula was a ho in a former life, and sometimes she forgot that Cluck In a Bucket was a family restaurant.
"Well, anyway. I haven't seen his advertisements around in years. I wonder what happened to him."
"Joyce happened to him."
"That would do it," Lula agreed. "Did she destroy him like she did Anders?"
"I don't know."
"We could look him up. I got one of them smart phones. I've got the internet, so I can keep up with my Tweets, Twitters, and Facebook," Lula said. "I've got to keep connected, you know, for when my big break happens. You can't be wasting time trying to set up a web page. You gotta be prepared."
Lula's plus sized body was stuffed into petite sized black sequined spandex pants and a banana yellow tube top. There was dark brown skin popping out everywhere. The term muffin top has a picture of Lula next to it in the Urban Dictionary. Lula can't sing and Lula can't dance, but she does capture your attention. Her hair was black streaked with purple and white today, and her eyes and nails were done to match. With four inch heels and lots of bright gold jewelry, Lula was a show stopper. If Lula's big break does finally happen, she'll be on the cover of the National Enquirer every week as a fashion faux pas staple, and the quotes will be rated R.
"OK, Google Rogenbach and see what you can find," I agreed.
"Let's see." Lula was tapping the keyboard with the tips of her manicured nails. "Looks like he moved to Spokane several years ago."
"What about while he was in Trenton. Any news articles?"
"Yeah, here's one. Rogenbach made partner."
"What firm?"
"McDoogle, Blaze, Smith, and Rogenbach."
"What?" I grabbed the phone from Lula to read it myself. "That was the firm that Dickie was doing some work for. He was sure he was going to get that partnership, and then, the Joyce thing happened. He blamed me, saying that it was the high-profile divorce that lost the partnership for him. That was actually when the divorce went from page ten to page two of the daily news."
"Let me get this straight. Your husband was up for a partnership. Joyce's husband is up for the same partnership. Joyce boinks your husband, making sure you find out about it. You divorce your husband, making a big enough stink that the law firm gives the partnership to Joyce's husband?"
"They were probably unaware that Rogenbach's bitch wife was the catalyst for Dickie's drama."
"They thought you were the bitch."
"I'm sure," I growled. That was certainly Dickie's opinion. Apparently my opinion as the unsuspecting wife wasn't important.
"So, she's married to a partner in a law firm. What happened to that marriage?"
"There was no pre-nup. Joyce got half in the divorce, and a modest alimony," I said.
"Her first lucrative divorce."
"I guess."
"Next?" Lula cleared the Google search, ready to start again.
"Wayne Brandt. He was an investment broker of some kind. He owned Brandt and Associates."
"Ring any bells?" Lula asked.
"Nope. Google it."
Lula's nails tapped for a few seconds. "No way."
"What?"
Lula handed me the phone. There was a news article titled, "EE Martin lays off 20 following a funding cut." I read the article. I wasn't able to follow all of the financial jargon, but I understood that Brandt and Associates publicly pulled out, caused a panic, and EE Martin stock fell sharply. That's how I lost my job, my Miata, most of my furniture, anything of value I owned, and ended up working for Vinnie.
"Does that say Joyce got you canned?"
"That's what it says."
"Your eye is twitching," Lula told me.
I put my finger to my eye. "I hate Joyce Barnhardt," I growled, grinding my teeth.
"She's sure got it out for you, and everyone around you, too." Lula fanned herself. "Is it getting hot in here?"
"I think it's just the roots of my hair burning," I growled.
I started flipping pages, looking for victim number four.
"Next was Grant Lawrence."
"Who's Grant Lawrence?" Lula asked, taking the phone back and punching the name into the search.
"No idea."
"Huh. Says here, he is the executive vice president of the East Coast Insurance Co."
I choked on a sip of Coke. "What?"
"ECI. Isn't that the hoity toity insurance company that canceled your full coverage policy after you started blowing up cars?"
"They black-balled me on full coverage in the market. That's why I have to buy piece of crap cars with no lien. All I can get is basic liability so I'm legal, but no real coverage."
"I thought Ranger was going to help you with that."
"He tried. No luck."
"Is that why he keeps lettin' you borrow Rangeman vehicles?"
"Yep." I blew out a sigh.
"Dang. That's pretty serious when Batman can't get it handled. He's got attorneys from hell on his payroll."
"Tell me about it."
"So, Joyce married this guy just to get your car insurance canceled?" Lula checked the search again. "That's just crazy."
"Joyce is crazy!" I threw up my hands. "Isn't anyone paying attention?"
"Who's next?"
"Contestant number five is Brad Lintz. He married Joyce after she started making Vinnie bark like a seal so she could steal my skips."
"What does Brad do?"
"Oh my God!"
"What?"
"At the time they were married, he was Internal Affairs at Trenton PD."
"Say what?"
I grabbed my phone and dialed Joe.
"Cupcake," Joe answered.
"Joe, did you ever have a run in with a guy in Internal Affairs?"
"Not lately."
"A few years ago?"
"There was some beef about my failure to cite Ranger for concealed carry."
My eyes were bugging out, and Lula's eyes were bugging out in response to mine.
"Who made the complaint? What did you say? Were you in trouble?"
"I don't know who made the complaint. Internal Affairs investigated. I said that if Ranger was carrying, I was unaware of it. I got a reprimand in my file. There were a few other petty complaints, but nothing serious. A few months later I transferred from patrol to vice. My new boss didn't tolerate any interference from IA that might compromise a case, and he refused to cooperate with these lesser requests for reprimand. It did hold up my promotion to detective, though. I got passed over twice. It was an irritation, that's all. Why?"
"Does the name Brad Lintz mean anything to you?"
"He worked in IA back then. Why?"
"Is he still in IA?"
"No, I think he moved back to New York to take care of his mom."
"Ok, thanks," I said, hanging up before Joe could give me the third degree.
"What did he say?"
I gave Lula the low down.
"She tried to get Joe canned?"
"It's a wonder she didn't get him arrested," I told her.
"Why would Joyce get Brad to file a complaint against Morelli for not busting Ranger?"
"Imagine what would have happened to my relationship with Joe if he were coerced into arresting Ranger for concealed carry," I said, raising my eyebrows.
"Oh. OH!" Lula caught on.
"I'll bet Brad went to live with his mamma where it was safe. Why did they divorce?"
"Not sure. We'll have to ask him."
"Next?"
"Boris Bronfman."
Lula tapped his name into the search. "Nothing. What else you got?"
"His employer is listed as the US Government, Washington, DC."
More tapping. "Nothing."
I filed through the paperwork, scanning. The words "US Treasury Department" caught my eye.
"Bunchy? Bunchy?" I squeaked.
"Say what? Joyce married Bunchy the Bookie?"
"I'm going to be sick," I told Lula, putting my head between my knees.
Bunchy had shadowed me once while he was working on a fraud case at First Trenton Bank. He pretended to be a bookie, but he turned out to be a Treasury Agent.
"What the heck good did that do her? He's all eyebrows, that guy." Lula did a full body shiver.
"I can't imagine, but I think I know who to ask." I dialed Ranger.
"Yo," he answered.
"Yo yourself."
"You change your mind?"
"No. I was just wondering, have you ever had any personal dealings with Bunchy?"
"Bunchy?"
"Boris Bronfman, from the Treasury Dept."
"Oh, that Bunchy."
"Yeah. Has he caused you any trouble?"
"If it hadn't been for those monstrous eyebrows, I never would have recognized him. He was nosing around in a suit and tie, looking like a Fed a while back."
"What did he want?"
"Apparently, there was some confusion regarding the source of our Rangeman vehicles."
"He thought you were laundering money?"
"Something like that."
"Is it all straightened out?"
"Sure."
"No problems?"
"Nope."
"Do you know where I can find Bunchy?"
"Potomac Mills Mall. I got him a job as a security guard."
"Are you serious?"
"I considered giving him a job at Rangeman, but he didn't want to return to Trenton after his divorce."
"Do you know who he was married to?"
"Babe," Ranger said. That was a stupid question. Ranger knew everything.
"OK, thanks!" I said, disconnecting before Ranger could give me more unsolicited advice.
I filled Lula in.
"I had no idea this was how Joyce spent her free time."
"Me either."
"Next."
"Randy Greenberg. Employer is listed as The New England Patriots."
"Get out!" Lula squealed, slapping the table. "Joyce was married to quarterback Randy Greenberg? A professional football player? How did we not know that? You think she would have told everyone on the planet."
"Looks like there was a pre-nup agreement that included keeping the marriage a secret so that Randy's sex appeal, and thus his royalties, wouldn't be compromised."
"Oh, well, I guess he would be a little less hot if he were married," Lula agreed. "Why did they get divorced?"
"Football injury ended his career. He got compensation. She got half."
"Sounds about right. Is that when she bought that big house she's in now?"
"Yep."
"So, when did this happen?"
"Several months ago."
"After the bonds office burned down?"
I did some mental math and looked up at Lula. "Oh my God. That was about the same time I was being stalked by Dave Brewer"
Lula laughed. "Joyce thought she had to find herself a better football star than yours. Guess she didn't know the new Dave very well."
Dave Brewer was the former high school football star. He didn't play football professionally. He grew up to be a con artist and serial killer, but he really wanted to enroll in culinary school. My mother had fixed me up with him. When he tried to kidnap me, one of my other stalkers shot him before being run over by stalker number three in the parking lot at my apartment. It was a banner day, but it ended okay. Dave had bought me airline vouchers, which I used to go to Hawaii. Then again, my trip to Hawaii didn't turn out so good. Why would anyone be jealous of my life? It was a three ring circus of fear and frustration, not to mention, I was always broke. I shook my head to clear it.
"If she was competing with Dave, she should have married a chef or a stalker. I couldn't get him out of my kitchen."
"Now what?" Lula asked.
"Now we get Connie to help us find addresses and phone numbers, and we start putting the pieces together. Somewhere along the line, Joyce had to have spilled her guts to one of these bozos."
"Joyce might have engaged in the occasional weekend bender," Lula enthused. "If this is all she does, try to mess with you, surely she went shooting her big mouth off about why."
"One would think," I agreed.
I packed the mess of papers back into my bag and headed for the door. I couldn't imagine what I had ever done to make Joyce Barnhardt hate me this much. But I was going to find out.
(Please review. Let me know you're out there!)