Fortune and Glory

by Janet Evanovich

  The medical examiner arrived, and Morelli and I moved away from the taped-off area.

  “This is a classic Shine hit,” Morelli said. “Once in the head and once in the chest. If we can retrieve a bullet, I’m guessing it’ll match the one we recovered from the dead hooker you found. Alice Smuther. Schmidt interviewed her neighbor across the hall. He said Shine was living with Smuther for a short time. He heard them arguing and he assumed Shine moved out. He didn’t see Smuther after that.”

  “Why would Shine kill her?”

  “I can only speculate, but possibly Shine killed Smuther for the same reason he killed these two. Shine has a reputation for getting rid of loose ends. Dead men tell no tales. They can’t give you up to cop a plea bargain. In the case here, if he hadn’t killed them, they would be getting medical attention. I’m taking a wild guess, but you probably have Connie calling around to find them. And after you had a heart-to-heart with them you would have turned them over to us, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And one more wild guess,” Morelli said. “You know the driver of the hit-and-run car.”

  “It wasn’t Ranger.”

  “And?”

  “It was moving fast. All I can tell you is that it was black, and it was small. Not an SUV.”

  “That narrows it down,” Morelli said.

  I left Morelli, walked around the block to the front of the building where my car was parked, and I called Connie.

  “Your men didn’t check in at any of the clinics or hospitals,” Connie said.

  “That’s because they’re dead,” I said. “Shot Shine execution-style and dumped behind the office. I’m there now.”

  “A bullet in the head and another in the chest?” Connie asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You’d think Shine would change it up once in a while.”

  “Is your mom home? Did she hear anything helpful?”

  “Jimmy’s sister said Shine is in Atlantic City. He comes to Trenton when he has to, but mostly his crew goes to him.”

  “Did she say where in Atlantic City?”

  “She only knew that he was staying in someone’s home. She said she heard it was one of his buddies from the old days. He was well connected when he was younger, and he had a lot of friends. If you wanted a liquor license or a pizza at three in the morning for your pregnant wife or demanding girlfriend, Shine could make it happen.”

  “Start collecting a list of his friends,” I said. “You make the phone calls and give me the names. I’ll run the real estate searches.”

  “Do you have those programs?”

  “No. I’m on my way home. Send me links to whatever I need.”

  I was back in the Buick. If Shine’s henchmen came after me, I’d deal with it. If necessary, I could mow them down. If Gabriela could do it in a Mercedes sports car, I could for sure do it with the Buick.

  I had a few butterflies in my stomach when I pulled into my parking lot. That’s okay, I thought. It’s a reminder to be cautious. And it’s good to be cautious. It’s not good to be fearful. Fear isn’t a productive emotion.

  I found a parking place close to the back door and three minutes later I was in my apartment with the door locked. Cautious but not afraid, I told myself. My new mantra.

  I grabbed a granola bar and a bottle of water, took them to the dining room table, and opened my MacBook. I downloaded the search programs from Connie plus three names. I researched the three names and eliminated them. No real estate in Atlantic City. Four more names came in from Connie. I ran them through the system. Nothing.

  It was nine o’clock at night when I received the last batch of names from Connie. It was as if she’d downloaded the entire Trenton phone book and sent it to me. Out of all those names, I found two with Atlantic City residences. In both cases they were second residences. One was a condo in a low-rise building. The other was a modest house in Pleasantville. I’d take a road trip in the morning.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  I opened the door to my apartment and Potts tumbled in.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I was sitting with my back to your door, and I guess I fell asleep.”

  “It’s eight thirty in the morning. How long have you been out here?”

  “Not that long,” he said. “An hour maybe.” He got to his feet. “Where are you going? Are you going to the office?”

  “Briefly. I need to see if Connie has anything new for me, and then I’m going to check out a couple of addresses.”

  I locked my door and took the stairs to the lobby with Potts tagging along. I had my gun tucked into my messenger bag, but it wasn’t loaded. I didn’t have any ammo. Probably I could get some from Connie. Just in case.

  Connie was at her desk and Lula was texting when I walked in with Potts.

  “I got two possible addresses from your list,” I said to Connie. “I’m going to check them out this morning.”

  “Me, too,” Potts said.

  “Me, too,” Lula said. “Where are we going?”

  “Atlantic City,” I said.

  “I’m all about Atlantic City,” Lula said. “Maybe we should bring Grandma with us. She’s like my lucky charm. You got Grandma behind you at a craps table and you can’t lose.”

  “We aren’t going to a casino,” I said. “I’m checking out two residences.”

  “Yeah, but after that we might need something to eat and we could at least do some slots. I mean, we’re going all that way,” Lula said. “I’ll call Grandma and see if she’s up for it.”

  I handed my gun over to Connie. “Do you have any bullets that fit this?” I asked. “I thought I should start carrying it. Just in case.”

  “Just in case is a good possibility,” Connie said.

  She went to the storeroom and returned with a box of rounds. She loaded my .38, spun the cylinder, and handed it back to me.

  “Grandma’s not answering her phone,” Lula said.

  I called my mother. No answer there, either. There were hundreds of reasons why they weren’t answering their phone, but the worst stuck in my mind.

  “We can stop at the house on our way out of town,” I said.

  I parked in my parents’ driveway and noticed that the front door was slightly ajar. I hit the ground running and entered the house with my gun in hand. I stopped in the foyer and listened. Silence. I cautiously walked through the living room and dining room, and into the kitchen. One of the chairs by the kitchen table was overturned, and the cast-iron fry pan was on the floor. I ran upstairs and looked in the bedrooms and the bathroom. They had all been searched. Drawers were open. Clothes were dumped on the floor. The keys were missing from Grandma’s underwear drawer. The ring was still there, in its box. They didn’t know to take the ring.

  Lula was behind me. “What do you think?” she asked.

  “I think they have Grandma.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking, too,” Lula said.

  I pocketed the ring, and we went downstairs. Grandma was standing in the foyer, holding a grocery bag.

  “This is a nice surprise,” Grandma said. “We already had breakfast but there’s some Entenmann’s crumb cake left.”

  “Where were you?” I asked.

  “It’s such a beautiful morning, I thought I’d walk to the deli and pick up some fresh rolls and potato salad for lunch.”

  “Where’s Mom?” I asked.

  “Isn’t she in the house? Maybe she stepped next door.”

  I called her cell phone, and I could hear it ringing in the kitchen. We went to the kitchen and Grandma set the bag on the counter.

  “Did you knock the chair over?” she asked.

  “No. It was like that when we got here.” I picked the fry pan up and set it on the stove. “I just went upstairs, and the rooms have been searched and the keys are missing.”

  “We figured the bad guys snatched you,” Lula said, “but now I’m thinking they took Mrs. P.”

  “Why would they do that?” Grandma asked. />
  “You weren’t home,” I said. “Maybe they didn’t want to leave empty-handed.”

  “Maybe they aren’t smart, and they took the wrong woman,” Potts said. “Maybe they thought they were taking Grandma.”

  “That could be it,” Grandma said. “I’m real young looking for my age. It’s an easy mistake to make.”

  There was a slim possibility that my mom was at church or somewhere in the neighborhood. And there was a slim possibility that she’d forgotten to take her phone. And if I went with this scenario, the house got searched while she was away. I couldn’t explain the overturned chair and the fry pan. I also couldn’t get rid of the hollow feeling in my stomach.

  “Where’s Dad?” I asked Grandma.

  “He’s fishing with Johnny Lucca. They went to Belmar early this morning. I’m worried about this,” Grandma said. “I don’t like thinking your mother got kidnapped.”

  I was breathless. This was my mother. The woman who endured twenty-two hours of hideous labor to bring me into the world. She welcomed me home when my marriage failed. She welcomed Grandma into her home when Grandpa passed. When my sister Valerie and I turned out not to be perfect, my mother made it clear that her love wasn’t dependent on perfection. She was the voice of reason. She accepted the role of Practical Pig because someone had to be Practical Pig. I know that someday there will be life without my mother, but right now I couldn’t imagine such a thing.

  I called Morelli and explained the situation.

  “I’ll put out an alert,” Morelli said. “Have you contacted Ranger?”

  “He’s next on my list.”

  “Tell him to keep me in the loop.”

  I hung up and called Ranger. “I’m following a couple of leads,” I said. “I’ll be back in touch.”

  Grandma put the potato salad in the fridge. “There’s no Entenmann’s in here,” she said. “And it’s not on the counter or on the table. I think it got taken along with the keys.”

  “That’s sick,” Lula said. “What kind of person steals a crumb cake?”

  “We have two leads,” I said. “To save time I think we should split up. I’ll take Potts with me. We’ll go to the shore house in Pleasantville. Lula and Grandma, you can go to the condo in Atlantic City. Don’t put yourself in jeopardy. If it looks like Shine has been using the condo, call me and I’ll bring Ranger in.”

  I dropped Lula and Grandma at Lula’s car at the office, and I drove off with Potts riding shotgun.

  “I have the route all mapped out on my phone,” Potts said. “You take 206 to the New Jersey Turnpike.”

  I knew the way to Atlantic City, but I was happy to let Potts navigate if it occupied him enough to keep him from humming.

  “In the movies it only takes a few seconds for Indiana Jones to fly from the States to Istanbul,” Potts said. “This road to Atlantic City feels like forever.”

  Tell me about it. I was trying hard to push away horrible thoughts of my mother at the hands of Shine’s thugs, but my stomach was sick, and my palms were sweating on the steering wheel.

  “Okay,” he said. “We’re coming up to the Jersey Turnpike. You want to go south.”

  Good deal, I thought. I could make time on the turnpike. Going north on the turnpike from Trenton was a nightmare. Going south was usually open road.

  I connected with the turnpike and pushed the Buick up to 85 mph. It was like driving a nuclear-powered tank with bad brakes. It was terrifying. Potts had his hands braced against the dash, and he was humming loud enough to be heard over the roar of the engine.

  “Exit eleven!” Potts yelled. “Exit 11!”

  I slowed the tank and peeled off onto the Garden State Parkway. I got up to speed and Potts was watching the exit signs fly by.

  “This next one is it,” he said. “The A-C-E is coming up at exit 38.”

  “The what?”

  “The A-C-E. Atlantic City Expressway.”

  There was dead silence in the car for a beat.

  “Holy smokes, Batman,” Potts said. “It’s the first clue, isn’t it?”

  “Yes! It wasn’t Ace it. It was Atlantic City Expressway ACE. Initials. The La-Z-Boys would have known that. I should have known that.”

  “The next clue is 50, right? Maybe there’s a Route 50.” Potts went to his phone. “Route 50 is exit 17. West Egg Harbor.”

  I had a choice to make. I could go to the Pleasantville house or I could follow the clues to the treasure. I chose the Pleasantville house.

  “Stay on the expressway,” Potts said. “We want to get off on North New Road.”

  I hit the North New Road exit ramp and stomped on the brake. Slowing the Buick down was like slowing down a freight train.

  I took the E-ZPass lane and cruised onto North New Road.

  “You’re going to turn left in about a half mile,” Potts said.

  Minutes later we were in front of the house. It was a two-story frame that was probably built in the fifties. Very plain but well maintained. It was on a street with mature trees and shrubs. It had a driveway but no garage. There were no cars parked in front of the house. A small center-console boat was trailered in the driveway. No vehicle attached to the trailer.

  “It doesn’t look like anyone’s here,” Potts said.

  I didn’t waste time with the usual sit-and-observe routine. I got out of the Buick, ran to the door, and rang the bell. No answer. I ran around to the back door and looked inside. No lights on. No one visible. The door was locked. I banged on the door. No answer. I broke the glass in the door with my gun butt and let myself in. Potts was on my heels.

  I did a fast search to make sure my mom wasn’t in the house. I didn’t find her, but I found clothes in one of the bedrooms. The clothes looked like they belonged to Shine. A couple of pinkie rings had been left on the bedroom dresser. I returned to the kitchen. There was food in the fridge. The Entenmann’s crumb cake box was in the trash. Plus, a crumpled wad of bloody paper towels.

  I froze for a moment, telling myself to breathe, to push the panic away. I had to stay calm and focused. I had to be able to think clearly. I didn’t have the luxury of unproductive emotion.

  There was no sign of struggle in the house. No bloodstains other than the paper towels. I told myself that was a good sign, but truth is, I wasn’t sure.

  “We missed them,” I said to Potts.

  “Maybe they know the treasure location,” Potts said.

  In seconds we were in the Buick.

  “You need to get back on the expressway,” Potts said. “It’s the fastest way to Route 50.”

  I returned to the expressway and got the Buick up to eighty.

  “You should hum,” Potts said to me.

  “What?”

  “Hum. It’s very calming. You look like you need calming.”

  He was dead-on. I was having a hard time pulling myself together.

  “What should I hum?” I asked him.

  “Anything.”

  I started humming “Happy Birthday.” It was the only song in my head.

  “That’s a good choice,” Potts said. “I hum that song a lot.”

  We hummed “Happy Birthday” together all the way to exit 17 and for a couple of minutes on Route 50.

  “Speed limit,” Potts said. “It will slow us down if we get stopped by the police or hit a cow or something.”

  “There’s a fork in the road.”

  “Stay to the right on Route 50. Route 50 just turned into Philadelphia.”

  “That’s the third clue. Philadelphia. I thought Jimmy made this treasure hunt impossibly difficult, but he made it ridiculously easy. Benny’s clue number four is pink.”

  We traveled Route 50 through the town of Egg Harbor, looking for something pink. We left the town and drove through a residential area. Philadelphia Avenue continued on past churches, over a creek, and past a lake.

  From time to time I checked my rear mirror for a Rangeman car. I knew Ranger would have someone following me when they saw that I l
eft Trenton. And he was probably coordinating with Morelli, and I suspected that Morelli was also following me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  I pulled to the side of the road. “We must have missed it,” I said. “We’ve been on Philadelphia for a long time and there isn’t anything out here.”

  Potts went back to his phone and tapped in a satellite map of Philadelphia Avenue.

  “I see it,” he said. “There are some pink buildings about a mile up the road.”

  I put the Buick in gear and in a couple of minutes we came to a driveway leading into Bowman Storage. Two acres of single-story, pink concrete block storage units with roll-up garage doors.

  “This is it,” Potts whispered.

  I no longer wanted the treasure. I wanted my mom. I wanted her safe and unharmed. If she wasn’t already here, I knew they would be bringing her here soon. I wanted to ride around and look for the black Escalade or the blue pickup, but I was driving a big, stupid powder blue and white Buick Roadmaster. It wasn’t quiet and it never went unnoticed.

  “I’m afraid to go any further in this car,” I said to Potts. “We’ll be instantly recognized if Shine and his men are roaming around.”

  I scanned the area. There weren’t many places to hide a Buick. A small office with its own parking was attached to the first row of garage-size lockers. The office looked closed and unoccupied. Two large dumpsters had been placed off to the side of the office.

  I drove behind the dumpsters and parked. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best I could do. The Buick would only be visible to someone depositing trash. We walked past one row of storage units and didn’t see any cars. A tan Honda sedan was parked in front of the first unit on the second row. I looked past the Honda and spotted the black Escalade and a white Taurus at the other end of the building. The door was down on the unit. Two men stood beside the Escalade.

  “There’s a car coming,” Potts said.

  We ducked down and wedged ourselves halfway under the Honda. A black Mercedes sedan rolled past us and parked by the other cars. Shine got out of the Mercedes. The door to the storage unit rolled up and Shine went in.

  My sick stomach was back, and my heart thumped in my chest. I wondered if this happened to Indy. Probably not. He had a lot of Oh crap moments, but I couldn’t remember him looking nauseous. Probably because no one ever kidnapped his mother.