Takedown Twenty: A Stephanie Plum Novel

by Evanovich, Janet

  I looked around my kitchen and living room and had to admit there might be something to Lula’s assessment of my decorating. I really hadn’t done much to spruce things up after the last explosion when Ranger’s friend blew himself up in my foyer. I added Decorate apartment to make it a special place to my mental to-do list, then tabled the project for a better time.

  I wasn’t sure if my Ranger date involved dinner, so I made myself a peanut butter and olive sandwich. I know this combination looks odd what with the lumps from the olives, but it contains major food groups, it doesn’t involve cooking, and the olives keep the peanut butter from sticking to the roof of your mouth.

  I took a shower and brushed my hair out into a bunch of soft curls that skimmed my shoulders. I went with an extra swipe of mascara, some smudgy liner, and shiny lip gloss. I had a closet full of jeans and T-shirts, but my choices for dresses were limited. I had a very sexy red dress with a swirly skirt, a professional-looking suit, a blue dress I wore to family functions, and a black dress that was moderately to pretty damn sexy.

  I settled on the black dress, tugged it over my hips, zipped it up, and checked in the mirror to make sure my boobs weren’t falling out too much. I shoved my feet into black spike-heel pumps and transferred essentials from my messenger bag to a small red evening clutch.

  I was thinking if this was work-related I probably should take my gun, but the gun wouldn’t fit in the clutch, and truth is, I didn’t have any bullets anyway.

  I felt a change in air pressure, got a hot flash, and Ranger knocked once and opened the door to my apartment. He was wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, and a black shirt open at the neck. He looked me up and down, and the corners of his mouth hinted at a smile. I assumed this meant he liked the dress.

  We were silent in the hall and elevator, Ranger being only slightly more talkative than my hamster. We crossed the parking lot to his black Porsche 911 Turbo S, and he opened the door for me. It was a great car, but not the easiest to enter in a tight short skirt and heels. I grabbed my hem with both hands and managed to get in without my skirt riding up to my belly button. Not that it would matter entirely, since Ranger had already seen my belly button. Still, he hadn’t seen it lately, and I thought it was a good idea to keep it that way.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  He drove out of the lot and turned left. “We’re going to a viewing at the funeral home on Hamilton.”

  “Is that the whole date?”

  “Yes. Unless you want it to be more.”

  “Why did you tell me to wear a sexy dress?”

  “I wanted to have something to look at besides the deceased.”

  “So I’m just eye candy?”

  “The eye candy is a bonus. This is a viewing for Melvina Gillian. Does the name mean anything to you?”

  “She was murdered. Her body was found in a Dumpster a couple weeks ago.”

  “She was found ten days ago. She was kept on ice until now, pending the autopsy. Rangeman provides security for her son, Ruppert. He asked me to look into her death.”

  “Aren’t the police investigating?”

  “Yes, but Ruppert wanted a private investigation as well. I don’t usually do this sort of thing, but Ruppert is an important client.”

  “Do you have any leads?”

  “In the past eighteen months three women have been found in Dumpsters in Trenton. They were all robbed and strangled. They were all in their seventies. All lived alone, in different parts of the city. So far the police haven’t identified any suspects.”

  “I knew one of the women. Lois Fratelli. She lived in the Burg a block over from my parents.”

  “Did you go to her funeral?”

  “No, but I went to the viewing with Grandma.”

  “Anyone of interest there?”

  “Not that I noticed. It was packed. There are a lot of Fratellis in Trenton, and there are always lots of people who come out for a murder.”

  “Like your grandmother?”

  “Grandma comes out to all the viewings. She gets extra dressed up for a murder.”

  Ranger pulled into the small lot attached to the funeral home.

  “You’ll never get a spot here,” I said. “This lot fills up at six o’clock for a murder.”

  He beeped his horn and a black Rangeman SUV pulled out of a space. Ranger parked in the space, and the SUV drove away.

  “So it sounds to me like I could have sent you to this viewing with your grandmother,” he said, cutting the engine, “and I could have taken a night off.”

  “Yes, but then you would have missed seeing me in this dress.”

  Ranger smiled. “True.”

  “Why do you want me at this viewing?”

  “I’m looking for a common thread. You know most of the people here. They talk to you. I want you to move around and see if you can find a connection between Melvina and Lois. Mutual friends, shared interests, a stranger who suddenly entered their life.”

  I got out of the Porsche, tugged my dress down, and rearranged my breasts. “What will you be doing while I’m talking to people?”

  “I’ll be watching you.”

  The funeral home had originally been a large Victorian house with a wraparound porch. Over the years it had changed hands several times and extensions had been added. This evening, men were gathered in groups on the porch. The vestibule inside was filled with women milling around the tea and cookies, then quietly maneuvering their way into the crush of people already in the viewing room. The air was heavy with the smell of funeral flowers and too many overheated bodies.

  “I’m two steps behind you,” Ranger said. “Do your thing.”

  I wormed my way through the vestibule, talking to people, keeping my eyes open for murderers. I squeezed through the door to Slumber Room No. 2 and began to make my way forward toward the open casket. I spoke to Lily Kolakowski, Ann Rhinehart, Maureen Labbe, and Sheryl Stoley. Several moderately drunk men hit on me, none of them on the good side of ninety. None of them knew Melvina Gillian.

  I worked the crowd to the first row of chairs facing the deceased and picked out Grandma Mazur.

  “Well, for goodness sakes,” she said, spotting me. “If I’d known you were coming I would have saved you a seat. I was here when they opened the doors, and I got a real good one. You sit up front like this and you don’t miss a thing. I even filled my purse with cookies on the way through the lobby.” She tapped her finger to her forehead. “Always thinking.”

  “Did you know Melvina?”

  “No. Never met her, but she looks pretty good for having been thrown into a Dumpster. They do a real good job with makeup here. I was worried they might have a closed casket, and you know how I hate that, but they got her set up so she’s almost lifelike.”

  I scanned the room for Ranger but couldn’t find him.

  “You should go take a look,” Grandma said to me. “I especially like the shade of lipstick they got on her. I might need a lipstick like that.”

  Viewings weren’t my favorite thing, and looking at dead people ranked even further down the list.

  “I don’t want to jump the line,” I said.

  “Nobody will mind. It’s almost closing time and there’s only stragglers left. All the people who really had their heart into it have gone through.” Grandma got up and nudged me over to the casket. “This here’s my granddaughter,” she said to the man standing to one side. “She just wants to pay some fast respects.”

  I nodded to him, murmured my condolences, and stepped away. When Grandma and I turned back to her chair it was filled.

  “Hey,” Grandma said to the woman sitting in her chair. “That’s my seat.”

  “You got up,” the woman said.

  “Don’t matter,” Grandma said. “I only got up to pay respects, and now I’m back, and I want my chair.”

  “You’ve been hogging this chair all night,” the woman said. “It’s my turn now.”

  “Oh yeah?” Grandma said.
“How’d you like a punch in the nose?”

  The woman glared at Grandma. “How’d you like to spend the night in jail on an assault charge?”

  “I’m a poor, frail old lady,” Grandma said. “Nobody’s going to arrest me on your say-so. Besides, my niece here is almost engaged to a cop.”

  “Did you know Melvina?” I asked the woman.

  “I saw her at Bingo sometimes. Every Wednesday I go to Bingo at the Senior Center, and Melvina would almost always be there. She was a nice person, but she was blind as a bat. She couldn’t see a Bingo card if it was as big as a barn. Poor Lois Fratelli used to play Bingo there too. It’s like one by one all the Bingo players are ending up in a Dumpster.”

  “The first one was Bitsy Muddle,” Grandma said. “She played Bingo at the firehouse on Thursdays. I sat next to her a couple times. She was a Bingo demon. Nobody could keep up with her. I don’t like to speak bad of the dead, but there were some who weren’t unhappy to learn she wouldn’t be at Bingo no more.”

  “Did Bitsy ever play at the Senior Center?” I asked the woman.

  “Not that I can remember. I didn’t know her.”

  “She would have stood out,” Grandma said.

  The lights dimmed, and bells softly chimed. The viewing was over. We filed out, and Grandma made a last stop at the cookie table.

  “Do you need a ride home?” I asked her.

  “No. I came with Eleanor Krautz. She was visiting Mort Kessler in Slumber Room No. 4. That’s way at the end of the hall, and Eleanor don’t move so fast since she had the hip replacement.”

  I felt a hand at my waist, and Ranger leaned in to me. “If I have to spend another ten minutes here I’ll put a bullet in my brain.”

  “Don’t you look nice in your suit,” Grandma said to Ranger. “Black is a good color on you.”

  Eleanor Krautz pushed her way through the crowd and stage-whispered to Grandma, “Who’s the hottie with your granddaughter?”

  “That’s Ranger,” Grandma stage-whispered back at Eleanor. “I don’t think Stephanie knows what to do with him.”

  “I’d know what to do with him,” Eleanor said.

  “Jeez Louise,” I said. “We can hear this conversation.”

  Ranger looked down at me. “I could make suggestions if you’re really in the dark.”

  I did a mental eye roll. “Your ten-minute countdown clock is ticking away,” I said to Ranger.

  We said goodbye to Grandma and Eleanor and slipped out the side door that led to the parking lot. Three minutes later we were in the Porsche and headed for my apartment.

  “Talk to me,” Ranger said.

  “I don’t know if it means anything, but all of the murdered women played Bingo. Two regularly played at the Senior Center, and Bitsy Muddle played at the firehouse.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I spoke to a lot of women while I was making my way through the lobby to the deceased, but I only spoke to one woman who knew all three. She knew them because she played Bingo five days a week. Tuesdays and Wednesdays at the Senior Center, and Thursdays and Fridays at the firehouse.”

  “What about Monday?” Ranger asked.

  “Online Bingo.”

  “Did the three murder victims play online?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Ranger stopped for a light. “What about their social life? Mutual friends besides the Bingo addict?”

  “The last time Melvina went to Bingo she told everyone she had a boyfriend, but no one knew his name or anything about him. It sounded like dating was unusual for her.”

  “Ruppert didn’t mention a boyfriend,” Ranger said.

  “Did you go through Melvina’s apartment?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t come up with anything. It’s estimated that the time of death was around midnight. She was found early the next morning. The police sealed her apartment at ten A.M.”

  The thought that some creep was out there murdering women and discarding them like garbage wasn’t sitting great in my stomach.

  “I’m feeling queasy,” I said to Ranger. “Could you take it easy on the corners?”

  “Are you sick?”

  “It’s been a long day, and I’m not good with the whole killing women and throwing them into Dumpsters thing.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, the women were all nicely wrapped in a sheet, and the killer left a note on the Dumpster each time so the women would be found.”

  “What did the note say?”

  Ranger pulled into the parking lot to my apartment building. “ ‘Body inside.’ ”

  This was so completely lacking in remorse, and so impersonal, that it annoyed me more than if nothing had been left.

  Ranger parked and turned to me. “How would you like to go to Bingo at the Senior Center tomorrow night?”

  “Is this another date?”

  “No. This is a Rangeman job with full compensation. I’d run through an active minefield before I’d willingly go to Bingo night at the Senior Center.”

  I was afraid to ask what was included in full compensation. I suspected it might be the realization of all my sexual fantasies. This was pretty darn tempting, but it wouldn’t be smart.

  Ranger walked me to my door. “What’s the word on Bingo?”

  I wasn’t excited about Bingo. Been there, done that, and it wasn’t wonderful. In fact, I sucked at Bingo. And the regulars were gonzo Bingo players, working thirty cards at a time. I was lucky if I could keep track of three.

  “Sure,” I said. “I’ll go to Bingo.”

  It wasn’t the paycheck or the promise of the doomsday orgasm that pushed me into the Bingo hall. It was the three dead women. The dead, discarded women nagged at me.

  “You’re doing a lot of sighing,” Ranger said. “Is there a problem?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Ranger unlocked my door, pulled me to him, and kissed me. The kiss started out gentle and finished with enough heat to raise the temperature in the hallway by ten degrees. Time stood still for a couple beats while we stared into each other’s eyes and contemplated the next step.

  Ranger’s cellphone buzzed, he looked at the text message and punched in an answer. “That was from Tank,” he said. “The control room picked up a police communication. They just found a fourth woman in a Dumpster. I’m going to check it out. The Dumpster is in the center of Trenton.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “No. Not necessary. I’ll let you know what I find.”

  SIX

  I ROLLED OUT of bed at seven A.M., made coffee and took it into the shower with me. I got out of the shower, toweled off, and examined myself. No warts, no rash, no boils, no hemorrhoids. My hair hadn’t all fallen out during the night. My teeth weren’t rotting in my mouth. Not that I believed in Bella’s ability to give people the eye, but still it was good to confirm that nothing hideous had happened to me while I was sleeping.

  It was a little after eight when I got to the office. Lula and Connie were already there. Connie was busy on the computer, and Lula was reading Star magazine. They both looked up when I walked in.

  “Well?” Lula asked. “Did you get any?”

  I set my messenger bag on the floor and sat in one of the uncomfortable orange plastic chairs in front of the desk. “That’s confidential information.”

  “Hunh,” Lula said to Connie. “She didn’t get any.”

  I glanced over at Lula. “It was a business meeting.”

  “I wouldn’t care if it was a business meeting or a meeting of aliens,” Lula said. “That man is so hot I could butter him up and eat him like a ear of sweet corn.”

  Connie choked on her coffee, and I worked hard not to squirm in my seat.

  “So where did you go on this business meeting?” Lula asked me.

  “We went to the Gillian viewing. Ranger’s been hired to investigate Melvina Gillian’s death.”

  “They found another woman last night,” Connie said. “Rose Walchek. Sevent
y-six years old. Widow. She lived in one of those little row houses on Stanton Street, by the button factory.”

  “Strangled?”

  “It’s not confirmed, but it sounds like it.”

  “It’s bad enough that these women are murdered,” I said, “but I hate that the killer throws them away.”

  “I know just what you mean,” Lula said. “It’s disrespectful. Least this guy could do is follow the mob’s example and take these women out to the landfill for a proper burial.”

  The front door opened and Morelli limped in. He crooked his finger at me in one of those come here gestures. I followed him outside and around the corner of the building, where he stood hands on hips, staring at his shoes.

  “And?” I said.

  “Give me a minute. I’m waiting for the pain to go away. I’m off the pills, and walking is a bitch.”

  “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Yeah, but we’d make a scene if we did it here.”

  “Anything other than that?”

  “I had seven people call and tell me you were at the Gillian viewing with Ranger last night.”

  “Ranger’s paying me to do some snooping for him. He’s been asked by Ruppert Gillian to look into his mother’s death.”

  “Ranger isn’t a P.I.”

  “He’s doing this as a favor for a good client.”

  “Butch Shiller is the primary on the Dumpster murders. He has no sense of humor, and he’s got real bad acid reflux, so don’t step on his toes.”

  “Good to know,” I said. “Anything else?”

  “Word on the street is that Sunny has a new pet project and isn’t going to jail until he gets it up and running.”

  “What’s the project?”

  “No one’s saying.”

  “Do you know where Sunny’s hiding?” I asked.

  “You want me to rat on my godfather?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’ll cost you. That would be worth a night of sweaty gorilla sex.”

  Morelli pulled me to him and kissed me. The kiss was a mix of playful affection and libidinous desperation. It measured up to Ranger’s kiss the night before, and it triggered a hot rush of guilt and desire. Getting kisses like this from two different men, both of whom carried guns, wasn’t in anyone’s best interest. Not to mention I suspected God didn’t approve of this kind of stuff. Of course it wasn’t as if I’d made the first move on either of the kisses, so maybe God would cut me some slack.