I took the stool next to him, raising an eyebrow at the coffee and cruller on the counter. "Thought you weren't into internal pollution," I said. Lately Ranger'd been on a health food thing. "Props," Ranger told me. "Didn't want to look out of place." I didn't want to burst his fantasy bubble, but the only time Ranger wouldn't look out of place would be standing in a lineup between Rambo and Batman.

You gonna take the case?" It's not a case. It's a missing person. Sort of." You're gonna have a devil of a time finding him if it was aliens," Grandma said.

I always wanted to eat with a Negro,” Grandma said. Yeah, well I always wanted to eat with a boney- assed old white woman,” Lula said. “So I guess this works out good.

Cupcake, your middle name is trouble.

He reached out, opened the glove compartment, and took out a gun. It was a Smith & Wesson .38 five-shot special. It looked a lot like my gun. "I stopped by your apartment this morning and picked this up for you," Ranger said. "I found it in the cookie jar." "Tough guys always keep their gun in the cookie jar." "Name one." "Rockford." Ranger grinned. "I stand corrected.

Any intelligent woman would have made a dignified retreat, but this was New Jersey, where dignity always runs a poor second to the pleasure of getting in someone's face.

I shot that sucker right in the gumpy." Grandma Mazur