Four to Score

by Janet Evanovich

  The lobby couches were filled with seniors.

  “Help!” I yelled. “Call the police! Get the guard!”

  “No guard,” one woman explained. “Budget cuts.”

  Sugar lunged again.

  I jumped away, grabbed a cane from an old geezer and started slashing at Sugar.

  I'm one of those people who imagine themselves acting heroically at disasters. Saving children from school buses dangling precipitously from bridges. Performing first aid at car wrecks. Rescuing people from burning buildings. The truth is, I totally lose my cool in an emergency, and if things turn out okay, it's through no effort of mine.

  I was blindly slashing at Sugar. My nose was running and I was making animal sounds, and by sheer accident I connected with the knife and sent it sailing through the air.

  “You bitch!” Sugar shrieked. “I hate you! I hate you!” He hurled himself at me, and we went down to the ground.

  “In my day, you'd never see two women fighting like that,” one of the seniors said. “It's all of that violence on television. That's what does it.”

  I was rolling around with Sugar, and I was shouting “Call the police, call the police.” Sugar grabbed me by my hair and yanked, and when I jerked back I caught him with my knee and pushed his gonads a good six inches into his body. He rolled off me into a fetal position and threw up.

  I flopped over onto my back and look up at Ranger.

  Ranger was grinning again. “Need any help?”

  “Did I wet my pants?”

  “No sign of it.”

  “Thank God.”

  * * * * *

  RANGER, SALLY AND I stood on the sidewalk in front of the seniors' building and watched the police drive off with Sugar. I'd pretty much stopped shaking, and my skinned knees had stopped bleeding.

  “Now what am I going to do?” Sally said. “I'm never going to be able to get into that corset all by myself. And what about makeup?”

  “It's not easy being a drag queen,” I said to Ranger.

  “Fuckin' A,” Ranger said.

  We walked back to the club parking lot and found our cars. The night was humid and starless. The air-​conditioning system droned from the club roof, and canned music and muffled conversation spilled out the open front door into the lot.

  Sally was unconsciously bobbing his head in time to the music. I loaded him into the Porsche and thanked Ranger.

  “Always enjoy seeing you in action,” Ranger said.

  I drove out of the lot and headed for Hamilton. I noticed my knuckles were white on the wheel and made another effort to relax.

  “Man, I'm really stoked,” Sally said. “I think we should do more clubs. I know this great place in Princeton.”

  I'd just almost been shot, slashed, and choked to death. I wasn't feeling all that stoked. I wanted to sit someplace quiet and nonthreatening and eat my mother's cookies.

  “I need to talk to Morelli,” I said. “I'm going to pass on the clubs, but you can go on your own. You don't have to worry about Sugar now.”

  “Poor little guy,” Sally said. “He isn't really a bad person.”

  I supposed that was true, but I was having a hard time finding a lot of sympathy for him. He'd destroyed my car and my apartment and had tried to kill me. And if that wasn't enough, he'd ruined my Gretzky Rangers jersey. Maybe I'd feel more generous tomorrow, when I'd regained my good humor. Right now, I was tending toward grouchy.

  I turned at Chambers and wound my way to Morelli's. The van was no longer on his street, and I didn't see the Duc. Lights were on in the downstairs part of Morelli's house. I assumed he'd been told about Sugar and had ended the stakeout. I took my cookies and angled out of the Porsche.

  Sally slid over to the driver's seat. “Later, dude,” he said, taking off with his foot to the floor.

  “Later,” I said, but the street was already empty.

  I knocked on the screen door. “Yo!” I hollered above the TV.

  Morelli padded out and opened the door for me. “Were you really rolling around on the floor at the senior citizens' home?”

  “You heard.”

  “My mother called. She said Thelma Klapp phoned her and told her you just beat the crap out of some pretty blond woman. Thelma said that since you were pregnant and all she thought you shouldn't be rolling around like that.”

  “The pretty blond woman wasn't a woman.”

  “What's in the bag?” Morelli wanted to know.

  Morelli could sniff out a cookie a mile away. I took one and handed the bag over to him. “I have to talk to you.”

  Morelli flopped onto the couch. “I'm listening.”

  “About Francine Nowicki, Maxine's mother . . .”

  Morelli went still. “Now I'm really listening. What about Francine Nowicki?”

  “She passed another phony twenty. And my informant tells me Francine had a roll of them.”

  “That's why you were so hot to put her under surveillance. You think she's mixed up in this counterfeiting thing and she's going to take off . . . along with Maxine.”

  “I think Maxine might already be gone.”

  “Why are you still interested if you think Maxine's gone?”

  I took another cookie. “I don't know for sure that she's gone. And maybe she's not so gone that I can't find her.”

  “Especially if her mother or her friend rats on her.”

  I nodded. “There's always that possibility. So what do you say, can I use your truck?”

  “If she's still there in the morning I'll put a van in place.”

  “Her doctor appointment's at three.”

  “Why did you decide to tell me?”

  I slouched lower on the couch. “I need help. I don't have the right equipment to do any kind of decent surveillance. And I'm tired. I hardly slept last night, and I've had a nightmare day. This guy emptied a revolver at me tonight, and then he chased me with a knife in his hand. I hate when people do that!” I was trying to eat a cookie, but my hand was shaking so bad I could hardly get it to my mouth. “Look at me. I'm a wreck!”

  “Adrenaline surplus,” Morelli said. “As soon as it wears off you'll sleep like the dead.”

  “Don't say that!”

  “You'll feel better in the morning.”

  “Maybe. Right now I'm happy for whatever assistance you can give me.”

  Morelli got up and shook out cookie crumbs. “I'm going to get a glass of milk. Want one?”

  “Sure.”

  I stretched out the length of the couch. He was right about the adrenaline. I'd stopped shaking and now I was exhausted.

  * * * * *

  I HAD a moment of disorientation when I opened my eyes. And then I realized I'd fallen asleep on Morelli's couch. And now it was morning. Sunlight was streaming through the front windows, and I could smell coffee brewing in the kitchen. Morelli had removed my shoes and covered me with a summer quilt. I did a quick check to make sure the rest of my clothes were intact before feeling too grateful.

  I shuffled into the kitchen and poured out some coffee.

  Morelli was buckling his gun onto his belt. “I've gotta run,” he said. “I called your mother last night and told her you were here. I figured she'd worry.”

  “Thanks. That was nice of you.”

  “Help yourself to whatever. If anything comes up today, you can get me on my pager.”

  “Are you watching Nowicki?”

  Morelli paused. “She's gone. I had someone check last night. The house is empty.”

  “Damn!”

  “We might still get her. There's an alert out for her. The Treasury has resources.”

  “The doctor—”

  “Nowicki canceled her appointment yesterday.”

  He gulped the rest of his coffee, put the mug in the sink and took off. He got to the middle of the dining room, stopped and stared down at his shoe for a minute. Thinking. I saw him give his head a single shake. He turned, strode back into the kitchen, pulled me to him and kissed me. Lo
ts of tongue. Hungry hands.

  “Jesus,” he said, backing off. “I'm in really bad shape.”

  And he was gone.

  * * * * *

  MY MOTHER looked up expectantly when I came into the kitchen. Well? the look said. Did you sleep with him?

  My grandmother was at the table with a cup of tea. My father was nowhere to be seen. And Sally was at the head of the table, eating chocolate chip cookies, once again wearing my bathrobe.

  “Hey, dude,” Sally said to me.

  “Sally was telling us all about last night,” Grandma said. “Boy, I sure wish I'd been there. Sally said you were the bomb.”

  “Of all places,” my mother said, “the senior citizens' home. What were you thinking? You know how they talk!”

  “We've had three phone calls so far this morning,” Grandma said. “This is the first chance I've had to sit down with my tea. It's just like we're movie stars!”

  “So what's new?” I asked Sally. “You have plans for the day?”

  “I'm moving. Got a new place to live. Ran into some friends last night who were looking to replace a roommate. They've got a house in Yardley.”

  “Dang,” Grandma said. “I'm going to miss seeing you sitting there in that pink bathrobe.”

  I puttered around until Sally was out of the house. Then I took a shower and straightened my room. I didn't like that I'd lost Mrs. Nowicki. All because I hadn't told Morelli the whole story soon enough. “Damn!” I yelled out. Now all I needed was for Joyce Barnhardt to haul Maxine in. “Shit.”

  My mother knocked on my bedroom door. “Are you all right in there?”

  I opened the door. “No, I'm not all right. I'm bummed! I've screwed this case up, and now I have to worry about Joyce Barnhardt making my apprehension.”

  My mother gave a sharp inhale. “Joyce Barnhardt! Joyce Barnhardt couldn't carry your water pail! You're better than Joyce Barnhardt!”

  “You think so?”

  “Just go fix whatever it is you botched. I'm sure it isn't that bad. This woman you're after has to be out there somewhere. People don't just disappear.”

  “It isn't that easy. I've lost all my leads.” With the exception of Bernie the horny drug dealer, who I wasn't crazy about seeing again.

  “Do you know that for sure?”

  Actually, no.

  “You're right,” I said. “It wouldn't hurt to check a few things out.” I grabbed my shoulder bag and headed for the stairs.

  “Will you be home for supper?” my mother asked. “We're having fried chicken and biscuits and strawberry shortcake.”

  “I'll be home.”

  My enthusiasm did another dip when I saw the Buick waiting for me. It was hard to be Wonder Woman in the Buick. It would be much easier to be Wonder Woman on a Duc, for instance.

  I crawled onto the big bench seat and peered over the steering wheel at the powder-​blue hood stretching endlessly in front of me. I turned the key and accelerated. Bzzzzzzzup, the car sucked gas and rolled up the street.

  Morelli had covered Mrs. Nowicki's house, but he hadn't gone to see Margie. There was a slim chance that Mrs. Nowicki might be with Margie.

  I didn't feel encouraged when I pulled up at Margie's house. Her car wasn't there, and neither was Mrs. Nowicki's. I went to the door and found it locked. No one answered my knock. I tiptoed around and looked in windows and saw no sign of life. No breakfast dishes left on the kitchen counter. No socks left lying on the floor. No cat curled in an armchair. The neighbor didn't pop out. Maybe she was used to me snooping.

  I crossed the lawn and rapped on the neighbor's door.

  She looked puzzled at first, then she placed me. “You're Margie's friend!” she said.

  “Yes, and I'm still looking for Margie.”

  “You just missed her. She was home for a day, and now she's gone again.”

  “Do you know where she went?”

  “I didn't ask. I just assumed it was back to the shore.”

  “Well, thanks,” I said. “I'll catch up with her one of these times.”

  I went back to the car and sat there berating myself for a few minutes. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” I said.

  I was on the road, so I thought, What the hell, I'll make a lastditch effort and double-​check on Maxine's mother. No stone unturned.

  I didn't see a car in front of her house, either, but I parked and went to her door. I knocked, and the door swung open. “Hello?” I called. No answer. I went room to room and was relieved not to find anyone dead, or scalped, or hacked into little pieces.

  Maxine's mother hadn't lived well. The double bed mattress sagged miserably in the middle. The sheets were threadbare. A faded chenille spread served as blanket and bedspread. Both were littered with burns from cigarettes. The furniture was old and scarred, beyond polish. Rugs were soiled. Sinks were stained and chipped. The kitchen wastebasket was filled with booze bottles. And the house reeked from stale smoke and mildew.

  There were no scribbled notes indicating travel plans. No magazine pages dog-​eared to cruise advertisements. No fake twenties carelessly discarded. Mrs. Nowicki was gone and didn't expect to be back. I thought the open door was a blatant message. Let the wipe-​ass scavengers pick this shit over, the door said. I'm movin' on.

  I went back to the Buick and tried to piece things together, but I didn't have nearly enough information. What I knew was that Margie, Maxine's mother and Maxine were sticking together. I knew that Francine Nowicki had a bunch of bad twenties. I suspected that Eddie Kuntz wanted Maxine for more than love letters. And I knew someone wanted information on Maxine bad enough to kill for it.

  I thought the most confusing element in all of this was the disappearance of Eddie Kuntz. He'd been missing for four days. I thought he'd have floated in on the tide by now.

  I've checked on Margie and Maxine, I thought. I should check on Eddie Kuntz, too. Trouble was, I hated to tangle with Betty and Leo again. It was getting unpleasant. Of course, I could just ride by. Stopping could be optional.

  I put the Buick in gear and cruised over to Muffet Street, pausing in front of the Glicks' house. Didn't look like anybody was home in either side. No Lincoln Town Car parked at the curb. I could feel my fingers getting twitchy, wanting to see if Eddie's front door would swing open like Francine's. Maybe since no one was around I could even help it swing open.

  My heart did a little tap dance. Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie, don't even think what you're thinking! What if you get caught inside! Okay, I have to admit, getting caught inside would be a downer. I needed a lookout. I needed Lula. The office was about ten minutes away.

  I hauled out my cell phone and dialed the office.

  “Yeah, sure,” Lula said. “I'm good at lookout shit. I'll be right there.”

  “I'm going to try to get inside,” I told her. “I'll take my cell phone with me. You sit across the street and be cool and call me if Betty or Leo comes home. Then I'll go out the back door.”

  “You can count on me,” Lula said.

  I drove to the end of the block, turned the corner and parked. Then I walked back to the Glicks' house and marched up the stairs to the porch. Just to be sure I knocked on the Glicks' door. No answer. I looked in the window. No one walking around. I did the same on the Kuntz side. I tried the door. Locked. I ran around to the back. No luck there, either. I should have called Ranger instead of Lula. Ranger had a way with locks. I used to carry a set of lock picks, but I could never get them to work, so I threw them away.

  I glanced over at Eddie's back window, next to the door. It was cracked open! No air-​conditioning in the Kuntz side. You could probably bake bread on the kitchen floor. I slunk off the porch and gave the window a nudge. Stuck. I looked around. There was no activity in the neighborhood. No dogs barking. No neighbors watering grass. No kids playing. Too hot. Everyone was inside, running their air conditioners, watching television. Good for me.

  I discreetly dragged a garbage can over to the window and climbed on. I balanc
ed on my knees, gave the window a good hard shot and ZZZING! The window sailed open. I didn't hear anybody yelling “Hey, you! What are you doing?” so I figured everything was cool. I mean, it wasn't like I was breaking and entering, because I hadn't actually broken anything.

  I slid the window back down and ran to the front of the house to make sure the Glicks hadn't come home. When I didn't see the Lincoln I felt a little more comfortable, so that my heart slowed down to almost normal. I did the upstairs first, methodically going room by room. When I got to the downstairs I looked out the window and saw the red Firebird parked two houses down. I searched the kitchen last. Milk in the refrigerator. And upstairs in his bedroom there'd been dirty clothes on the floor. Things that would lead me to believe he hadn't intended to go on a trip.