Fortune and Glory

by Janet Evanovich

  Grandma held back but I went for the hot dogs.

  “You smell smoky,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “Lou set Stephanie’s car on fire,” Grandma told him. “He was hanging out in the cemetery and we chased him down and he flamethrowered our car. We were lucky to get out.”

  Benny’s eyes got wide. “Are you shitting me? He was in the cemetery? Where is he now?”

  “In police custody,” I said.

  “Well, at least he made an effort to come to the cemetery,” Benny said. “I appreciate that.”

  “He tried to kill us,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Benny said. “He shouldn’t have done that, but you know how it is—old habits die hard.”

  “Have you thought any more about where the treasure might be?” I asked him.

  “Jimmy was a shore guy. He liked the salt air. And he could sit on a bench on the boardwalk and look at the waves for hours. If he didn’t hide the stuff in Trenton, I’m guessing it’s somewhere in south Jersey. One of the shore towns.”

  “The stuff,” I said. “What exactly is the stuff?”

  “I might as well tell you,” Benny said. “You should know what you’re looking for, right?” He closed his eyes. “Just give me a minute. I’m not feeling so good. Something I ate.”

  “Maybe everything you ate,” Grandma said. “There’s only three meatballs left, and half of the casseroles are gone. Did you eat all that?”

  “I’m a big guy,” Benny said. “It takes a lot to keep me going. And the funeral was a downer. I’m one of them comfort eaters.”

  “You don’t look good,” Grandma said to him. “You’re pale as a ghost and you’re sweating.”

  “It’s gas,” he said. “I get indigestion. Jeez, I feel like there’s an elephant sitting on my chest.”

  I grabbed my phone and called for an EMT. I went out of the den into the main part of the house and yelled for a doctor or nurse. Two first responders and a nurse came forward. I sent them in to Benny. Grandma stayed with Benny and I guarded the door to keep the curious out. A fire truck and an EMT angle-parked in front of the house. I let them into the den, and Grandma came out.

  “How is he?” I asked.

  “Dead,” Grandma said.

  My heart contracted. “Dead? Are you sure?”

  “Trust me, I know dead when I see it, and he’s dead. I don’t know where they’re going to get a casket to fit that man. It’s going to have to be a custom.”

  I took a step back, away from the door, and I bumped into Ranger.

  “Benny’s dead,” I said to Ranger. “Most likely a heart attack. Grandma and I were with him when it happened.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I think my hair got burned in the car fire.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes,” I said, and a tear leaked out of my eye.

  Ranger wiped the tear away. “We need to get out of here. Can you leave?”

  “Yes.” I turned to Grandma. “Are you okay with leaving now?”

  “I am,” Grandma said. “I want to go home and watch some television. I’m worn out.”

  Ranger herded us through the crowded house and out the front door. A shiny black Mercedes sedan was idling in the middle of the street, guarded by a uniformed Rangeman.

  “It’s good to be you,” I said to Ranger.

  “Sometimes,” Ranger said.

  He drove to my parents’ house and I walked Grandma to the front door and gave her a hug.

  “I love you,” I said to Grandma.

  “I love you, too,” Grandma said. “Maybe that’s why God gave us death. So, we remember to love what’s alive.”

  I returned to Ranger and he handed me a worn-out black leather wallet and some keys.

  “I took these off Salgusta before I handed him over to the police,” he said. “One of the keys is for a Ford Escape rental. I found it parked on a side road in the cemetery. The rental papers were in the glove compartment, listing the renter as Lou Balou. The address he gave is fake, but we ran a search and found a Lou Balou owning a row house on Sedge Street.”

  “That’s by the button factory.”

  “Yes. Eventually the police will discover it, and I want to get there first.”

  “He could have stolen the identity,” I said.

  “It doesn’t look like stolen identity. It looks like an alias for a safe house. There’s no history for Lou Balou. He’s owned the house for almost twenty years. No mortgage.”

  “What about the wallet? Anything helpful in there?”

  “Expired driver’s license and seven dollars.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The button factory was on the other side of town, and Sedge Street was part of a rabbit warren of what used to be company housing. Ranger parked one house down from the small single-story house Lou Balou owned. We watched the area for five minutes and went to the door. No one answered Ranger’s knock, so he opened the door with one of the keys he took from Salgusta.

  The living room was small with worn-out, dated furniture. An overstuffed couch and chair. An ancient television. A dark, threadbare Oriental rug. A couple of side tables. A pair of men’s sneakers with Velcro latches in place of laces had been kicked off and left by the couch. The dining room table was scarred with scratches and rings from glasses. Four side chairs. Clutter on the table. Used paper plates. Crumpled to-go bags from fast-food places. Newspapers. Benzene canisters. A laptop computer. A jumble of pliers, hammers, knives, and drills. Some were beginning to show signs of rust.

  Ranger pulled on gloves and powered up the computer.

  “Without taking the time to recover deleted files or comb through his browser history, I’m not seeing a whole lot on this computer,” Ranger said.

  He shut the computer and we moved into the kitchen. Old appliances. Not especially clean. Mold in the refrigerator plus some deli ham, a loaf of bread, a bottle of vodka. Junk in the junk drawer. Silverware in the silverware drawer. Mismatched glasses and plates in the above-counter cupboards. Some inexpensive pots and pans that looked fifty years old. A bag of Chips Ahoy! on the counter. No slips of paper with cryptic messages that might be a clue.

  “Did you ask him about the clue when you took him down?” I asked Ranger.

  “Yes, but he was babbling nonsense.”

  “What about his house in the Burg?”

  “His sister is living in it. I had a team go through it when she was out, and it was clean. Nothing that could be a clue or indicate he had other properties. We went through Charlie Shine’s house too, when his wife was gone.”

  We searched the bedroom and bathroom and didn’t find anything.

  “Maybe he didn’t keep the paper,” Ranger said. “He could have committed it to memory.”

  “Benny said it was a ritual to put the paper in the safe when someone died. I think Salgusta would have kept the paper.”

  “We’ve already been through the Mole Hole, but we can take another look,” Ranger said.

  We were on our way out of the house and I stopped short. “His La-Z-Boy chair! If he hid it anywhere in the Mole Hole it would be in his chair, and the chair is gone. Shine redecorated.”

  We buckled ourselves into the Mercedes and Ranger called Tank.

  “Find out what Shine did with the La-Z-Boy chairs when he redecorated,” Ranger told Tank. “Maybe the bartender knows.”

  I leaned back in the cushy leather seat and closed my eyes. “I need to go home,” I said. “I’m tired of smelling like cooked Porsche Turbo. I want to take a shower and change my clothes.”

  And I wanted to have four or five peanut butter sandwiches and a beer. Stick a fork in me.

  * * *

  Potts was slouched against the wall by my door.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” I said.

  He stood straight and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, me, either.”

  I opened the door and we went inside.

  “You’re all smudgy,” he sa
id.

  “Long story short, there was a car fire, but I got out okay.”

  “That had to be scary.”

  “I’m getting used to scary.”

  “Really?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. “Not even a little.”

  I took my cross-body bag off and removed my phone, happy that I’d been wearing the bag when I jumped out of the flaming Porsche.

  “I’m having a late lunch,” I said to Potts. “Do you want something to eat?”

  “No thanks. I had a gluten-free granola bar a little while ago.”

  “Beer?”

  “There’s gluten in beer.”

  I made myself a peanut butter sandwich on bread that had extra gluten added to it. I gave a little piece to Rex and I cracked open a beer. I put the television on for Potts and I took the sandwich and beer into the bathroom with me.

  My hair was singed on one side, but it wasn’t as bad as I feared. I showered and did the whole glam hair thing. I got dressed in my old jeans and T-shirt and felt pretty good. Benny had died but Grandma and Potts were okay. And truth is, Benny’s death was sad and unfortunate, but wasn’t unexpected.

  I went to the living room to check on Potts and Ranger called.

  “Tank talked to the bartender at the Mole Hole,” Ranger said. “The chairs went to a consignment store. We’re tracking them down. Tank also found out that Shine brought in more soldiers. Supposedly some very bad guys. So be careful. Your Honda has been detailed and is parked in your lot.”

  “Now what?” Potts asked when I pocketed my phone.

  “Now we go to the office.”

  I was vigilant leaving my apartment and getting into the Honda. I drove to the office with an eye on my rearview mirror. I parked directly in front of the large plate-glass office window, and I could see Connie and Lula look out when I pulled to the curb.

  “If you didn’t show up in the next ten minutes, I was going to call you,” Connie said when we walked in. “I heard about Benny. They’re saying it was a heart attack.”

  “Grandma and I were with him when it happened,” I said. “The house was jammed with people and he was hiding in his den. He said he didn’t feel well and then he was gone.”

  “Mom and I went to the service,” Connie said, “but we passed on the burial and the reception. I knew the reception would be impossible in his house.”

  “Did you hear about the fire at the funeral?”

  “Fire at the funeral?” Lula asked. “What fire? What did I miss?”

  “Grandma and I were in the car line leaving the grave site and we saw Salgusta hanging out by the Rigollini plot. We took off after him, and he caught us with the flamethrower, setting the car on fire. The good part is that Ranger ran him down and turned him over to the police, so he’s off the street. One less crazy killer to worry about.”

  “That leaves Shine,” Lula said. “Crazy in his own way.”

  “For his entire adult life, Shine’s made money and stayed out of jail by intimidating people and making them disappear,” I said. “He has no reason to believe it won’t work now.”

  “Yeah, but your Honda is at the curb,” Lula said. “What about the car fire?”

  “We were in Ranger’s Porsche.”

  “If I had a quarter for every Ranger car you destroyed, I’d be rich,” Lula said.

  Connie turned her attention to the front window. “We have company,” she said.

  We went to the window and looked out. The black Mercedes sports car was parked behind mine. It pulled into traffic and drove away when we went to the window.

  “Gabriela again,” I said.

  “I see her in your parking lot sometimes,” Potts said. “One time I asked her what she was doing there, and she said she was hanging out. That it was a quiet place to think.”

  “Did she say anything else?” I asked him.

  “She wanted to know what I was doing there, and I told her about you and how I was protecting you.”

  “And?”

  “She said she thought that was wonderful and that I was heroic.”

  “Did she ever have anyone with her?” Connie asked.

  “No,” Potts said. “She’s always alone.”

  “Did you happen to notice her handbag? Was it Fendi?” Lula asked Potts.

  “I didn’t notice,” Potts said. “One time she had a gun laying out on the passenger seat. It was partly hidden by a laptop, but I could still see it.”

  “And she has no history?” I asked Connie.

  “None that I can find,” Connie said. “All we have is Gabriela. No last name. I ran the plate on the Mercedes but didn’t come up with much. It’s a New York plate registered to an LLC that has no history. No corporate officers listed. I’m sure the information can be found somewhere, but my search programs aren’t designed to go there.”

  I could probably get her last name from Morelli, but I had to be careful how I went about it. I didn’t want to embarrass myself by admitting I was spying on him.

  I placed the call and got a stomach flutter when he answered. “Hey,” I said.

  “Where are you?”

  “At the office.”

  “You rushed out of Benny’s house before I had a chance to reconnect with you,” Morelli said.

  “Ranger had a lead that we wanted to chase.”

  “Speaking of Ranger, he turned Salgusta over to Manny Bartok, one of the other cops on the scene, and Manny said Salgusta didn’t have a wallet or keys on him. I don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

  “Maybe they fell out of his pocket when Ranger took him down. Did Manny look around for them?”

  “I’ll pass your suggestion on to Manny.”

  “I’m being sort of stalked by a woman we only know as Gabriela. No last name. I saw you talking to her at the viewing.”

  “Gabriela Rose,” Morelli said. “She carries credentials from a bank in Switzerland and supposedly she’s investigating some illegal accounts, but I’m not sure I buy it.”

  I took that in for a beat. “What’s your opinion of her?”

  “She’d eat her young. If she’s following you around, you want to be careful and not let her get close.”

  “Jeez.”

  “Are we still on for dinner?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll pick you up at six o’clock,” Morelli said.

  “How’d that go?” Lula asked when I put my phone away.

  “Good,” I said. “Her name is Gabriela Rose and she told Morelli she’s investigating some illegal Swiss bank accounts.”

  Connie typed Gabriela Rose into her search program.

  “Nothing,” Connie said. “No history for Gabriela Rose. Either it’s a new alias or it’s been scrubbed. Maybe both.”

  Ranger called. “We found the chairs, and we have the clue,” he said.

  “Let me guess,” I said. “Under the seat cushion.”

  “Yes. Do you want the clue over the phone, or do you want the paper?”

  “Over the phone is good.”

  “Fifty. The number fifty. And it’s the second clue.”

  “What about the other chairs? Any more clues?”

  “No more clues, but we found a party favor condom and some loose change.”

  “Do you have any ideas?” I asked him.

  “Only that these clues are directions, like a map. The six men probably knew Jimmy well enough to be able to follow the clues when they were all put together.”

  “I agree.”

  “Babe,” Ranger said. And he disconnected.

  * * *

  “I hate to bring this up,” Connie said, “but you have Arnold Rugalowski outstanding. I ran a credit check on him today just for giggles and discovered a car loan.”

  “Local?”

  “Yeah. I followed through on it and it looks like he bought a food truck.”

  “Maybe he’s selling fried roaches,” Lula said. “It could be a new specialty being that his chicken nuts were lacking.”
r />   “I don’t have any more information other than his loan application,” Connie said.

  “Did it say where he was buying the truck?”

  “Steve’s Used and Abused,” Connie said.

  “I know where that is,” Lula said. “It’s across from the pawnshop in Hamilton Township. It’s right on the highway.”

  “I tried calling but I got a machine and no call back,” Connie said.

  “Okay,” I said. “We’ll check it out.”

  Lula and Potts got into my Honda and I drove to Steve’s. I kept one eye on the rearview mirror, and every now and then I would get a flash of a black sports car that was four or five cars behind me. I turned into Steve’s lot and lost sight of the black car.

  “You can let me handle this one,” Lula said. “I’m wearing my ultra-voluptuous spandex dress today. And I got a way with used car salesmen and their sort.”

  Lula got out of the Honda and sashayed off to the sales hut.

  Five minutes later, Lula walked out of the sales hut, adjusting her girls on the way to the car. She slid onto the passenger seat and buckled in.

  “Steve wasn’t there but his assistant Louis said Arnold is looking to cruise the area by the government buildings on the river,” Lula said.

  “Did Louis say anything else about Arnold?”

  “Only that he bought a beast of a truck. I don’t exactly know what he meant by that. I was on my way out by then.”

  I took Nottingham to Clinton and headed for the capitol buildings. It was late afternoon and there would be end-of-workday traffic in town. I wasn’t sure how this translated into food truck sales. I reached State Street and rolled past a taco truck and a donut truck. Neither truck looked like a beast and we didn’t see Arnold in either truck.

  “Holy cow,” Lula said. “I think that’s gotta be the truck up ahead, parked on the corner. That’s a seriously ugly truck. That’s a beast truck.”

  “Are you sure it’s a food truck?” I asked.

  “There are a couple of people standing by it and they’re eating something,” Lula said. “And in between all the graffiti on the side, I think it says chicken nuts and bull balls.”