“Too much information.”
Hal looked like he'd swallowed his tongue. Nancy took a large bottle of Advil from her purse, tapped out two pills, and popped them into her mouth. Ranger picked feathers off his black tux. The Ginger collection was molting.
We marched the bird-woman through the lobby to the waiting motorcade. Downy feather remnants drifted like dust motes on air currents in our wake, and a blizzard of feathers whirled across the floor. A handful of fans and a few members of the press took pictures, and Brenda posed and smiled and flapped around.
I felt heavy breathing on the back of my neck and turned to see the stalker hovering in my personal space.
“You're breathing on me,” I said to him.
“I thought if I got close enough I might be able to send you a mental message. It was an experiment.”
“It failed. Go away.”
“You don't understand. It's critical that I talk to you.”
“No, you don't understand. It's critical that you go away, because if you keep bothering me, that Latino guy in the tux is going to throw you out a third-story window.”
Ranger looked over at me, and the stalker backed up into a luggage cart.
Brenda moved toward the limo, and we all climbed in after her. Nancy and I sat in the seat facing backwards, and that left the seat next to Brenda for Ranger. He picked a feather out of his mouth and looked across at me and smiled. I pressed my knees together, but no matter what I did with my legs, from where he sat there was a direct line of sight up my skirt.
Ranger walked me to my car in the parking lot. It was a little after midnight and Brenda was in her room, with Hal standing guard.
“That had to be the longest night in the history of the world,” Ranger said.
“I was captured by Colombian rebels and tortured for three days, and it was better than that dinner.” He brushed feathers off his sleeve. “I don't know whether to have this cleaned or just throw it away.”
“You look like you wrestled a big chicken.”
He looked at my jacket and skirt. “Why aren't you covered with feathers?”
“I stayed away from Brenda.”
“I didn't have that luxury,” Ranger said.
“Yeah, I noticed. She was all over you.”
He took his jacket off in an effort to distance himself from the feathers, but he had feathers stuck to his shirt. “I don't usually have that problem. Most women are afraid of me.”
“Maybe she's not smart enough to be afraid of you.”
“More likely, she knows I'm no match for her,” Ranger said.
Ranger had offered the use of his bed, but I didn't think that was a good idea. I'd checked on Zook, and he was with my parents, sleeping in my old bedroom. I had my own apartment, but that held little appeal tonight. Truth is, I missed Morelli. I cruised by his house and the porch light was on, so I parked and went to the door. Locked. I tried my key. Wouldn't work. He'd changed the locks. That was a relief. I rang the bell and waited. I heard the dog feet first, clattering down the wood stairs. Moments later, Morelli opened the door. He was in socks and jeans and a T-shirt. His eyes were soft and sleepy and his hair was more unruly than usual.
“I was hoping you'd come back tonight,” he said. “I tried to wait up, but I fell asleep halfway through Letterman.”
He pulled me into the foyer and kissed me. “Did they feed you at the dinner? Do you need something to eat?”
“I'm starving.”
“Me, too. I want French toast.”
Morelli got the fry pan out and started it heating while I whipped eggs and soaked the bread. We sat at his kitchen table, and between the three of us, we went through almost a loaf of bread and a bottle of fake maple syrup.
I pushed back in my chair. “I see you've had your locks changed.”
“Probably I should have done it sooner. I never bothered when I moved into the house. For all I know, Rose could have given keys out to half the Burg.”
“So what was the deal with Bob in the backyard today?”
“I don't know,” Morelli said, “but I'm not happy. I don't like people breaking into my house, and I especially don't like them messing with my dog. I went all through the house, and I couldn't see where anything was taken. It occurred to me that someone might have been dropping off rather than picking up, so I had a crew go through looking for bombs, drugs, and bugs. Nothing was found.”
“I wish I could tell you more about the guy last night, but he caught me by surprise, and he was moving fast.”
“Do you remember hearing a car take off?”
“No. My heart was beating so hard all I could hear was my own blood pressure. What's happening with Loretta and Zook?”
“I thought it was best to leave Zook with your parents. Loretta is still in jail.”
“Have you had a chance to talk to her about the garage event?”
“No. Too many people listening. No privacy in jail. I'll wait until she's out.”
Okay, I knew I shouldn't be concerned. To begin with, Morelli had way too much testosterone as a kid, but he wasn't really a bad person. And besides that, he's an amazing guy now. He's smart and responsible and honorable and loving.
And it wouldn't matter if he had a son. It would feel weird, but it wouldn't matter. Having thought through all this, I was still a little freaked out.
“So what's your take on it?” I asked him, morbid curiosity winning out over trust and sensitivity. “Do you think it's possible that you're Zook's father?”
“I guess anything is possible, considering my hit-and-run lifestyle back then,” Morelli said, “but I can't see me doing it with Loretta. And I think Loretta would have come to me for help by now. Besides, I always used condoms. Even in high school.”
“You didn't with me.”
Morelli grinned. “You were different.”
“We were lucky I didn't get pregnant.”
“Maybe,” Morelli said. “Maybe not. If you'd gotten pregnant, we'd be married now. It would all have been much more simple.”
Morelli was gone when I woke up. Bob was in bed with me, and a note was attached to his collar.
Feed Bob and walk him and remember to take a BLUE PLASTIC BAG. Mr. GORVICH (THE GROUCH NEXT DOOR) IS COMPLAINING. LOVE YOU, JOE.
PS -MAKE SURE ZOOK GETS TO SCHOOL.
PPS-THERE'S A NEW HOUSE KEY FOR YOU ON THE KITCHEN TABLE.
I stumbled into the bathroom, took a shower, and dressed for the day as a Rangeman employee. I dragged Bob out of bed, down to the kitchen, and fed him.
Then I dragged him outside to go for a walk. I ignored Morelli's instructions and let Bob poop to his heart's content on everyone's lawns. I know it was irresponsible of me, but I wasn't up to bagging poop first thing in the morning.
I dropped my new house key into my purse and drove the short distance to my parents' house.
My mother's house always smells wonderful. Apple pie, roast turkey with stuffing, chocolate chip cookies, mari-nara sauce. Never air freshener. Air freshener was for sissies and slackards. My mother's house announced the day's menu. This morning, it was bacon and coffee and home fries with onion and green pepper.
Everyone was at the kitchen table when I walked in. My mother was manning the stove, frying the potatoes. My grandmother was at the table with Zook. Zook was dressed for school in his usual Gothic black getup. Grandma was a carbon copy, except for the piercings. Black jeans, black boots, black T-shirt with warrior written in gold-and-red flames across her chest. Big chunky chain belt and a wooden cross on a chain around her neck. She looked like the Grandma from Hell.
“Nice outfit,” I said to her. “What's the occasion?”
“I'm going online as soon as I'm done with breakfast,” she said. “I'm gonna lay waste to the griefer.”
I looked over at my mother and she made a gesture like she was going to hang herself.
“What's a griefer?” I asked. I'd heard Zook use the term, but I didn't actually know what it meant. I als
o knew Moondog was a griefer, but I didn't know what a Moondog was, either.
“A griefer's a snert,” Grandma said. “A cheese player. A twink.”
I nodded. “That makes it all clear.”
“A cyberbully,” Zook said. “I got your grandmother playing Minionjire last night, and Moondog terminated your grandma's PC. That's a player character. Had him take a dirt nap. Man, your grandma was really pissed.”
My mother clanked the fry pan against the burner, and we all jumped.
“Excuse me,” Zook said. “I meant she was... angry. Anyway, she was able to regen, and now she's rolling.”
“Yeah,” Grandma said. “I'm a newbie, so my PC runs at a pretty low level, but I've got some iiberelves camping for me. They're evil, but they're bitchin'.”
“Where'd you get the clothes?” I asked her.
“Harriet Gotler took me shopping after we paid our respects to Warren Kruzi. He had an early viewing. And I'm not Grandma no more,” she said. “I'm Scorch.”
“Scorch?”
“Yep, 'cause I'm hot. Get it? Scorch.”
My mother was eyeing the cabinet alongside the stove where she kept the liquor.
“It's sort of early in the day,” I told her.
She blew out a sigh and shook the potato pan. She brought it to the table and dumped the home fries into a bowl. She had eggs going in another fry pan, and she divided them up on everyone's plates.
My stomach was filled with eggs and potatoes, Zook was at school, and I wasn't scheduled to meet with Ranger until eleven. I had a stack of skips to find, but nothing recent and nothing that interested me. For lack of something better to do, I stopped at the office.
Lula was on the couch, wading through a stack of bride magazines, marking pages with little red sticky tabs.
I looked over at Connie, and Connie did an eye roll.
“I saw that,” Lula said. “Don't you do an eye roll about me. I gotta consider my options. I gotta keep an open mind. Tank could be real disappointed if he don't see me in a long white dress. And what about his mama? She could be expecting a wrist corsage. I gotta consider flowers. I don't want to get started on the wrong foot with his mama.”
It was hard to imagine Tank having a mama. Much less one who would wear a wrist corsage.
“You said you didn't want a big wedding,” I said to Lula.
“Yeah, but looking at the cake got the ball rolling.”
“Have you talked to Tank about any of this?”
“No. I didn't see him last night. He called up and said he had one of them stomach viruses.”
“Sometimes men don't like elaborate weddings,” I said to Lula. Especially when they don't want to get married.
“That better not be Tank,” Lula said, “on account of I'm starting to get into this wedding shit. And anyways, after all the things I do for him, the least he could do is marry me in a church and all.”
“You do lots of things for Tank?”
“Well, I might in the future,” Lula said.
My mother's ring tone went off on my cell phone.
“There's a strange man here, and he's looking for you,” my mother said. “I told him you weren't here, but he won't go away.”
“Does he have white hair and big black glasses?”
“Yes.”
“I'll be right there.”
“Me, too,” Lula said. “Where we going? Who has white hair and glasses?”
Stephanie Plum 14 - Fearless Forteen
CHAPTER SEVEN
There were three cars lined up at the curb in front of my parents' house. The white Taurus was one of them.
“I never seen a real stalker before,” Lula said. “I'm looking forward to this.”
I parked in the driveway and slid from behind the wheel. “Let me do the talking. I don't want to make a big deal over this. And I especially don't want to freak my mother out.”
“Sure,” Lula said. “I understand that. My lips are sealed.”
“And don't shoot him or gas him or fry his hair with your stun gun.”
“You got a lot of rules,” Lula said.
“He's harmless.”
“That's what those stalkers want you to believe, and then wham-they get naked pictures of you and put them on the Internet.”
“You have personal experience?”
“No, but I heard. Well, okay, maybe a little experience. But not with a stalker.”
My mother was at the door waiting for me. “How do you attract these strange men?” my mother asked. “They're never normal.”
“He's a stalker,” Lula said. “He might even be dangerous.”
I turned and looked at Lula. “What about the sealed lips?”
“I forgot. I got carried away.”
“He's confused,” I said to my mother. “I just need to talk to him. Where is he?”
“He's in the kitchen. I have a full house today. Your grandmother is in the dining room with Betty Greenblat and Ruth Szuch. They're all insane. They each have a computer, and they're playing that game. They don't even take bathroom breaks. I think they're all wearing Depends. They said they're ganging up on the griefer. They don't like being disturbed, so you have to sneak past them.”
My mother, Lula, and I tiptoed past Grandma, Betty, and Ruth. They were all dressed like Zook, and they were all hunched over their computers.
“We got a bad snert here, girls,” Betty said. “Let's kick ass.”
“This looks like the Queen of the Damned costume party at the Shady Rest Nursing Home,” Lula whispered to me. “Is this what the golden years looks like?”
“I heard that,” Ruth said. “The golden years are for pussies. We went straight to brass.”
The stalker was in the kitchen stirring a pot of chili. He did a big smile when he saw me. “Surprise,” he said.
“So you're the stalker,” Lula said, looking him over. “I thought you'd be nastier. You're kind of a disappointment.”
“Yeah,” he said, “I'm not any good at this. I can't get anyone to pay attention to me.”
“You gotta look assertive if you want people to hear you,” Lula said. “You gotta talk with authority. You gotta walk the walk and use the language. You see what I'm saying?”
“I guess so. I guess I could try that.” He stiffened his spine and pointed his finger at me. “Listen, bitch...”
My mother gave him a whack on the head with her wooden spoon. “Behave yourself.”
“Don't you have anything better to do?” I asked him. “Don't you have a job?”
“I'm currently between positions. I had a job, but then I had the dream, and I had to give the job up so I could follow Brenda around.”
“Okay, now we're getting somewhere,” Lula said. “This is about a dream?”
“I told all this to the police and the judge and the psychiatrist,” the stalker said.
“Then you should have the story down good,” Lula said. “Tell it to me.”
“Three years ago, I was struck by lightning in the Wal-Mart parking lot. All my hair fell out, and when it grew back, it was this white color. And I was sort of psychic. Like sometimes people glow and I can see their aura.”
“Oh yeah? What's my aura?” Lula wanted to know.
“I'm not seeing one right now.”
“Hunh,” Lula said. “Some psychic. Can't even see my aura. I bet I have a hell of a aura, too.”
“Wait a minute. I think I'm starting to see one. It's... red.”
“That's a powerful color,” Lula said.
“Anyway, sometimes I have these vision dreams that I'm pretty sure mean something. And I started having them about Brenda. And I got this feeling that I was supposed to be protecting her. You know, like staying close by for when I got a vision of danger.”
“What's this vision of danger look like?” Lula asked him.
“It's... um, a pizza.”
“Say what?”
“It's a big pizza. It's symbolic. See, there's Brenda, and there's this b
ig pizza she's running away from.”
“Maybe you're the pizza,” Lula said.
“Or maybe the danger is that she'll get fat if she eats the big pizza,” I said.
He shook his head. “No, this is an evil pizza. It's none of those things.”
Fearless Fourteen Page 7