“Now this here’s more what I’m talking about,” Lula said. “This looks like a bigamist house.”

It was a narrow, two-story single-family house. And it was painted lavender with pink trim. Why Lula imagined a bigamist should live in a lavender house was anyone’s guess.

“Yep,” I said. “This looks like a bigamist house for sure.”

“I got high hopes for this wife,” Lula said.

Stella McCurdle answered the door in tight lavender stretch pants, little sling-back heels, and a stretchy flower-print wrap shirt that displayed a decent amount of over-tanned, crepe paper–skinned boob. She had big chunky rings on her fingers and big chunky earrings, lots of make up, and her hair was a shade short of canary yellow, done up in a seventies bouffant.

“Whoa,” Lula said. “It’s like Soul Train for seniors.” Stella leaned forward. “What was that, dear? My hearing’s on the blink. I’m all clogged up with wax. I was just on my way to the doctor.”

“I’m looking for your husband,” I said to Stella.

“What?”

“Your husband.”

“No, thank you,” she said. “I don’t need any.”

“Must be a lot of wax,” Lula said.

“Dirk!” I yelled. “Where’s Dirk?”

“Dirk! Don’t know. Don’t care,” she said. “I’m moving on. I’m gonna find myself a new boy toy. Dirk was too old for me anyway.”

“That’s the spirit,” Lula said.

“What?” Stella yelled. “What did you say?”

Lula and I screamed good-bye to Stella, we got back into the car, and I drove to Ernie’s house. I didn’t think Dirk was living with Ernie, but I thought Ernie might be talking to him.

“What time is it?” Lula asked. “I might need a doughnut. Is it doughnut time?”

“I’m thinking about eating healthier,” I said. “More vegetables and fewer doughnuts.”

“What’s that about?”

“I don’t know. It just came over me.”

“It’s a bad idea. What do I look like, Mr. Green Jeans? How would it sound if I said it’s vegetable time? People would think I was a nut. Nobody gets a craving for a vegetable. And I’m on the one diet. What am I gonna do with one carrot or one asparagus? They’re not mood enhancers, if you see what I’m saying.”

“I see what you’re saying, but there aren’t any doughnuts between here and Ernie’s house.”

“I guess I could wait. And maybe you’re right about the healthy eating. I’m gonna get a carrot cake doughnut.”

I drove a block, pulled over, and called Ernie. I had a feeling he’d be more helpful if I got him away from his wife. My guess was his wife wouldn’t be happy to learn he was still palling around with Dirk the bigamist.

Ernie answered and I introduced myself.

“Is your wife home?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he said.

“Would she be upset if she knew you were still friends with Dirk McCurdle?”

“What’s this about?”

“I can knock on your door and talk to you in front of your wife, or we can meet somewhere for just a couple minutes. I need to find Dirk.”