Fearless Fourteen: A Stephanie Plum Novel

by Janet Evanovich

  Emergency vehicles clogged the street. Fire trucks, cop cars, EMS trucks. Even if I was capable, I couldn’t leave. One by one, the surplus trucks began moving out. I waited for my opportunity, and then I left, too.

  Morelli, Mooch, and Tiny were in the kitchen, drinking coffee and eating sandwiches, when I walked in.

  “We need to talk,” I said to Morelli.

  Morelli looked at my scraped arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Marginally. Somebody blew up Jelly’s house while I was in his bathroom.”

  Everyone went slack-jawed and stared at me.

  “I was staking it out, and I had to go,” I told them.

  “Jeez,” Mooch said. “Blowing up a house is serious stuff. Not in Trenton, but in most places.”

  Morelli paled. “You couldn’t find a gas station? You actually broke into his house to use his bathroom?”

  “It seemed easier. Until the house blew up.”

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “I don’t think so. I think the downstairs apartment was unoccupied. And I was alone upstairs. It must have been a firebomb shot into the front window. I heard the glass shatter, and then the explosion, and then everything was in flames. I was able to escape by dropping from the bedroom window.”

  “Why were you watching Jelly?” Mooch asked.

  “I was watching for Dom,” I told him. “It’s possible Dom’s been bunking with Jelly.”

  “Do you have any ideas about Dom’s partners?” Morelli asked Mooch.

  “There’s been some talk lately about Stanley Zero. The fourth partner is a big mystery.”

  The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place him. “Who’s Stanley Zero?”

  “Football player,” Morelli said. “He was a couple years ahead of us. Probably in Dom’s class. Not good enough to make pro and too dumb to get into college.”

  “He’s in construction,” Mooch said. “He does framing for Premier Homes. He’s been working for them for years.”

  “Why is he suddenly linked to the robbery?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mooch said. “Hard to say how these things start going around. A guy shoots his mouth off in a bar, or talks to a girl, and next thing it’s public.”

  I looked at the cellar door. “Is Gary still down there?”

  “No. He went home,” Morelli said.

  “Kentucky?”

  “No. Home here in Trenton. I’m not sure where that is. He said he had a headache. I imagine it was from listening to the jackhammer.”

  “I got a headache, too,” Tiny said.

  Morelli took the SUV keys from me. “I’m going to take Mooch and Tiny home. They can come back for the truck tomorrow. We need to finish carting the concrete chunks out anyway.”

  Tiny was about a thousand pounds. I had no idea how Morelli was going to get him into the SUV, and if he did succeed, I had a mental image of the tires going flat.

  “We’re out of food,” I said to Morelli. “You need to stop on the way home and get something for supper.”

  “This is getting expensive,” Morelli said. “I’m paying protection money to three guys so they don’t destroy my home, and I’m feeding them. Plus, I’ve now got Mooch and Tiny on the payroll.”

  “I had Connie run a check on Jelly,” I told Morelli. “He’s driving an orange Corolla. I have the plate number, but I don’t think you need it. How many orange Corollas are there in Trenton?”

  “I’ll watch for it,” Morelli said, herding Mooch and Tiny through the house and out the door.

  Miraculously, Morelli got Tiny into the SUV and the tires didn’t buckle. I watched them drive away, and I called Ranger. I wanted information on Stanley Zero, and Connie only worked a half day on Saturday.

  “Babe,” Ranger said.

  “I need information on Stanley Zero. Place of residence, car, anything personal . . . like friends, wife, whatever.”

  “How do you want it? Can I e-mail it to you?”

  “No. I’m at Morelli’s house. I don’t have my computer.”

  “I can send it to Morelli.”

  “That would work. How’s Tank doing?”

  “He’s distracted.”

  “Why doesn’t he just break it off?”

  “The man is confused,” Ranger said. “Sometimes it’s difficult to tell what you want to do with a woman.”

  “Are you speaking about yourself?”

  “No. I know exactly what I want to do.”

  I knew what he wanted to do, too.

  “Is there anything else you need from me?” Ranger asked.

  “Not right now.”

  “There will come a time,” Ranger said. “Let me know when.” And he disconnected.

  I opened the freezer and stuck my head in to cool off. If there’d been any more innuendo in that conversation, I could have fried an egg on my forehead. Ranger was a successful bounty hunter because he was exceptionally intuitive and doggedly aggressive. And that was also his description as a lover.

  I removed my head from the freezer, and I brought an ice cream sandwich out with me. Morelli’s computer was upstairs in his office. I was eating the last of the ice cream, so I sneaked past Mooner and Zook and tiptoed up the stairs.

  Ranger’s office was ultra modern and very high tech. Polished glass, stainless steel, and black onyx surfaces with black leather chairs. It was dust and clutter free. The computer and phone system was state of the art and there was a plasma television on one wall.

  Morelli’s office was a mess. A red plastic milk crate held his baseball mitt, bat, and some tennis balls he’d collected for Bob. Stacks of dog-eared files hunkered in corners and against the wall. Smaller stacks of books he’d been given as presents or he thought he might like to read but never seemed to get to were tucked between the files. A dead houseplant on a small table by the window. Coffee cup rings everywhere. A yard sale desk and chair. Running shoes that had seen better days, kicked off under the desk and forgotten. And his computer, which was a nice new MacBook Pro. Plus a DeskJet printer.

  I turned the computer on and brought up Morelli’s mail program. I’m not a computer whiz, but I can do the basics. I knew it wouldn’t take Ranger long to run the background check, but I relaxed in Morelli’s chair for a moment before checking in. Truth is, I like Morelli’s office. Okay, it could be a little cleaner, but it felt warm and comfy, like Morelli.

  I could see across the hall into Zook’s room. It was a typical teen disaster. Rumpled bed and every piece of clothing he had with him was on the floor. I thought he was doing remarkably well, considering his mother was missing. I imagined there might be some tears when he went to bed at night, but during the day he managed to hold his own. Mooner was helping. Mooner wasn’t the world’s best role model, but he kept Zook occupied.

  I hit the GET MAIL button and Ranger’s file came up. I printed it out and sat back to read it. Stanley Zero was married with two kids but not living with them. He was living alone in a low-rent apartment complex off Route 1. He worked for Premier Homes. I already knew that. So maybe he was Work Boots, and he was the partner with the crapola apartment. He’d run up his credit cards, but he wasn’t in collection. He drove a red F150 truck. Four years old. No prior arrests. His wife was a nurse. Worked at St. Francis. She was living in a house that was owned jointly by Stanley and her. Heavily mortgaged. The kids were five and nine. The typical American family. Except Stanley might have robbed a bank, blown up a house, and shot a guy dead.

  So I had Stanley Zero, Allen Gratelli, and Dom. If I could find the common thread, the one thing that brought them together, I might learn the identity of the fourth man. Or maybe there was no common thread. Stanley and Dom had gone to school together. Dom and Allen had worked together for the cable company. Maybe Dom was the organizer.

  I straightened Morelli’s bedroom, made the bed, and did a superficial cleaning of the bathroom. I peeked in at Zook’s room and decided not to invade his privacy. Stephanie Plum, Ms. Sensitivity and half-assed hous
ewife.

  I heard Bob gallop from the kitchen to the front door, and I knew Morelli had arrived with food.

  “Steph,” he yelled. “I’m home.”

  Ricky Ricardo brings Lucy her dinner.

  I met Morelli at the bottom of the stairs and took a grocery bag from him. He handed the other bags over to Zook and Mooner.

  “Meatball subs, potato salad, coleslaw for all of us,” he said to Zook and Mooner. “The beer is for me.”

  I took the bag into the kitchen and put the lunch meat, milk, orange juice, and sliced cheese in the fridge. Morelli’d also gotten bread and a cake that said HAPPY BIRTHDAY KEN.

  “A birthday cake?” I said to him.

  “I know you love birthday cake, and apparently Ken didn’t need his.”

  We brought napkins, plates, silverware, and soda to the living room and Morelli remoted the television on. We crammed ourselves onto the couch and ate our food and watched the early evening news.

  “And now we bring you our special report from that special person . . . Brenda,” the anchor said.

  Brenda popped onto the screen. Her face was blue, she was in full black leather bounty hunter mode, and she was in Morelli’s backyard.

  “Here we are at Aunt Rose’s house,” she said. “And as you can see, digging for the stolen money has already begun.”

  There was a shot of Morelli telling her to leave, and there was a full thirty seconds of Morelli turning the hose on her. The screen went black for a moment, and then Brenda reappeared in dry clothes, free from mud. “Here we are back at Aunt Rose’s house,” Brenda said. “We aren’t going to bother the hot guy who lives here, because he might turn his hose on us again, and while I wouldn’t mind seeing his hose in private, I’m not taking any chances in his backyard. As you can see, there’s this big dump truck parked behind his garage. I had one of my crew climb up on the truck and look inside, and he said it’s getting filled up with chunks of concrete. And even as we speak I can hear the jackhammer working in Aunt Rose’s basement.” Brenda aimed the microphone at the back of Morelli’s house, and there was the faint sound of the jackhammer, which at that distance sounded like a woodpecker. “As you all know, it’s been thought the missing nine million dollars was last seen by Aunt Rose, and maybe this new development will bring us closer to all that money. This is Brenda signing off and saying . . . see you soon!”

  Zook gave a howl of laughter.

  “Dude,” Mooner said. “Awesome. Ratings fabuloso.”

  The next shot was Brenda in the studio sitting opposite the anchor.

  “That was an interesting piece of film,” the anchor said to her. “I understand you’ve been an insider on this investigation.”

  “Yes, I have,” Brenda said. “In fact—”

  And at that instant, Gary crept up behind Brenda and tapped her on the shoulder.

  “I have to talk to you,” he said. “I had a headache, so I went to my bedroom to lay down, and I had another one of those dreams. You know, the big pizza dream. Only this time, the pizza was pepperoni and black olives, and it was very disturbing because it could fly! I saw it flying through the air.”

  Brenda rolled her eyes. “Gary, how many times have I told you to go home? Have you stopped your medication again?”

  The anchor was on his feet. “How did he get in here? Who is he?”

  “I’m her cousin on our Grammy Mim’s side,” Gary told him.

  The anchor had his hand waving in the air. “Security!”

  “You have to beware of the big pizza!” Gary said to Brenda. “It’s not an ordinary pizza, and it’s out to get you. And it might be when you’re sitting on the toilet on Route 1.”

  “I swear,” Brenda said. “You are such a nut.”

  Two uniformed guards appeared on the set and the station went to commercial.

  “That was primo,” Mooner said. “The dude was, like, a real celebrity stalker. And the white hair is a good look for him. Au courant but raging retro. Like totally Warhol.”

  Morelli cut his eyes to me. “The really scary part of all this is I’m starting to understand Mooner.”

  “Just think of it as learning a foreign language,” I said to Morelli. “Pretend you’re visiting the Republic of Moon.”

  We finished the subs, potato salad, and coleslaw, Mooner sang happy birthday to Ken, and we dug into the cake.

  We ate half a cake and the phone rang.

  “I’m at the police station bonding out Gary-the-Stalker,” Connie said. “Someone needs to take him somewhere and get him to shut up about the big pizza before he gets carted away and shot full of Thorazine. And it’s not me, because I’m late for JoAnn Garber’s baby shower.”

  “I’ll come get him. How do you want to do this?”

  “I’ll take him with me, and we’ll make the switch at the firehouse,” Connie said.

  “I’m on it.”

  I TOOK POSSESSION of Gary fifteen minutes later.

  “How did you get to the television station?” I asked him.

  “I drove. I followed Brenda from her hotel. I tried to talk to her before she got into the car, but she was moving too fast. And then she parked in a special lot at the station, and I couldn’t get in. So I had to find a place on the street, and then it wasn’t easy getting into the building. I had to climb in through a window in the back.”

  “Most people would leave a message on Brenda’s cell phone.”

  “I’m not most people.”

  No kidding.

  “And she keeps changing her number,” Gary said.

  “Because she doesn’t want you bothering her?”

  “She’s very brave. And she doesn’t want to impose.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you that you might be delusional?”

  “That’s what the psychiatrist said, but I think he’s wrong. There’s an evil flying pizza out there, and it’s got Brenda’s name on it.”

  “I’m assuming your car is still parked on the street.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to take you to your car, and then you’re going to go home.”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is home?”

  “Morelli’s garage,” Gary said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I have a little camper that I tow behind my car. I parked it in Morelli’s garage yesterday, and it’s still there.”

  “Does Morelli know this?”

  “I don’t think it ever came up.”

  We located his car, he followed me to Morelli’s house, and we both parked at the curb. I got out and looked at his white Taurus.

  “I thought this was a rental,” I said to him. “No one buys a white Taurus.”

  “It matches my hair,” Gary said. “And it’s my zodiac sign.”

  It made as much sense as anything else in my life. “Have you had dinner?”

  “No.”

  “Prowl through the fridge and make yourself a sandwich. If you’re lucky, there’s still some birthday cake left.”

  “Whose birthday?” he asked.

  “Ken’s.”

  I brought him into the house, and he settled in with Zook and Mooner, so he could lurk. Morelli was in the kitchen loading the dishwasher.

  “I brought Gary back here,” I told him. “He’s helping out with the wood elves.”

  “That’s a comfort.”

  “Yeah, I knew you’d be excited. I had Ranger run a check on Stanley Zero. I have the printout upstairs. One of us should take a look at him.”

  FIFTEEN

  THE PHONE RANG at two in the morning. Morelli came awake first, a bare arm reaching across me to get at the bedside phone. Not the first time he’d gotten a call in the middle of the night.

  “Yeah?” he said.

  There was a short conversation, and Morelli hung up and flopped back onto his side of the bed.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” he said. “On second thought, it makes perfect sense. That was your friend and mine, supercop Carl Cost
anza. He’s working a shift with Big Dog, and they got a report that there were lights in the cemetery. Turns out it was a bunch of people who all got the idea to dig up Rose. One of them was your Grandma Mazur.”

  “Is she in jail?”

  “No. Everyone ran away when Carl and Big Dog drove up, but your grandmother recognized Carl and told him she needed a ride home.”

  “Omigod.”

  “Yeah. Carl said they’re bringing her here. She didn’t want to get dropped off at your parents’ house in a police car because people would talk.”

  I rolled out of bed, scuffed through the clothes on the floor, and found what I needed.

  Zook was in the hall when I opened Morelli’s bedroom door. “I heard the call,” he said. “Was it about my mom?”

  “No. It was about my grandmother. She’s having a friend drop her off here, and then I’m going to give her a ride home.”

  Zook smiled. “I bet she did something bad and she’s afraid your mother will ground her.”

  “Close enough,” I said.

  I padded downstairs in the dark and looked out the front window. No police car yet. I walked through the house to the kitchen to get a bottle of water and checked on the yard. No one digging, but there was a bar of light under Morelli’s garage door. Gary was still up. Or maybe Gary was afraid of the dark. Lucky for Gary there was electric in the garage. Unfortunate for Morelli, since he was paying the bill.

  I returned to the living room, and Morelli joined me.

  “You didn’t have to get up,” I said to him.

  “No way was I going to miss this.”

  We saw headlights glide to a stop in front of the house, and we went out to say hello to Carl and Big Dog.

  “Here she is,” Big Dog said to me, opening the door for Grandma. “Maybe your mother should put a bell around her neck.” He looked at Grandma and shook his finger. “No more sneaking out at night. It’s dangerous.”