"Omigod," my mother said, making the sign of the cross. "Your grandmother alone in Atlantic City! Anything could happen. You have to go get her."

Ordinarily, I'd think this was a dumb idea, but it was a nice day, and I hadn't been to Atlantic City in ages. It sounded like a perfectly good excuse to take a day off.

I had five open cases, but nothing that couldn't wait. And I wouldn't mind putting distance between Diesel and me. Diesel was a complication I didn't need in my life.

An hour later, I was dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved, V-neck sweater, and a sweatshirt. I drove to the bail bonds office, parked at the curb, and walked into the office.

"What's up?" Lula wanted to know. "We gonna go out and catch bad guys today? I'm ready to kick ass. I got ass-kickin' boots on today. I'm wearing a thong two sizes too small, and I'm feeling mean as hell."

Connie Rosolli grimaced. Connie is the office manager, and she's pure Burg Italian American. Her Uncle Lou was wheelman for Two Toes Garibaldi. And it's rumored her Uncle Nunzo helped turn Jimmy Hoffa into a dump truck bumper. Connie's a couple years older than me, a couple inches shorter, and a lot more voluptuous. If Connie's last name was a fruit, it would be Cantaloupe.

"Too much information," Connie said to Lula. "I don't ever want to know about your thong." Connie took a file off her desk and handed it to me. "Just came in. Kenny Brown. Wanted for grand theft auto. Twenty years old."

That meant unless he weighed three hundred pounds, he could run faster than me and was going to be a pain in the ass to catch.

I stuffed the Brown file into my shoulder bag. "Grandma Mazur's hit the road. I think she might be at Daffy's, and I told my mother I'd check on her. Anyone want to tag along?"

"I wouldn't mind going to Atlantic City," Lula said.

"Me, too," Connie said. "I can forward the office calls to my cell phone."

Lula had her bag on her shoulder and her keys in her hand. "I'm driving. I'm not riding to Atlantic City in a car with no reverse."

"I almost never need reverse," I told her.

Connie locked the office, and we all piled into Lula's Firebird.

"What's Granny doing in Atlantic City?" Lula asked.

I buckled myself in. "I'm not certain she is in Atlantic City. It's just my best guess. But if she is there, I imagine she's playing the slots."

"I'm telling you, she had a leprechaun in that duffel bag yesterday," Lula said. "And she took him to Atlantic City. It's just the place to take a lucky leprechaun."

"You don't really believe in leprechauns, do you?" Connie asked Lula.