“If you represent Ranger, you have to be dressed in black. I'll meet you in the hotel lobby at three-thirty.”
“That don't hardly give me any time,” Lula said. “I gotta get home to my apartment and change my makeup if I'm wearing black. And then I got wardrobe decisions to make.”
“You have hours.”
“Yeah, but this here's important. I'm gonna be mingling with all them entertainment people. This could be my big break. I could get discovered.”
Lula left, but I stayed at the office and did some phone work on a couple skips. At three-fifteen, I swiped on some mascara and lipgloss and headed out.
At three-thirty I was in the lobby, waiting for Lula. I didn't see Brenda's stalker, but I knew he was somewhere nearby.
Lula barreled into the lobby through the front door and motored across the floor. She was in black heels and black stockings and a short, totally sequined, tight black skirt.
Her boobs were overflowing out of a black satin bustier, and she had it all topped off with a black satin tuxedo jacket. Her hair was Budweiser red. I suspected she was also wearing a Glock at the small of her back, under the jacket.
“Hey, girlfriend,” she said. “Let's rock and roll.”
“Brenda might not be too happy to see me,” I said to Lula in the elevator.
“She had a makeup malfunction on television, and at first glance, it might have seemed to be my fault.”
“Are you talking about the eyelash fiasco? Connie and me almost wet our pants.”
The elevator doors opened at Brenda's floor, and I looked out at Tank, standing halfway down the hall in front of the suite.
“It's my sweetie!” Lula shrieked, taking off at a run on the stiletto heels.
Tank froze, deer in the headlights. Except with Tank, it was more like rhino in the headlights. Lula grabbed Tank and gave him a kiss, and Tank broke out in a sweat.
“Ranger bailed on the sound check,” I told Tank, “so I brought Lula to help out.”
Tank almost smiled. He knew Ranger would have a seizure at the thought of Lula working for him.
“I'm all dressed in Rangeman colors,” Lula said to Tank.
“Yeah,” Tank said. “You look fine.”
“And I've been working on our wedding all day,” Lula told him. “I've got all the details worked out, so you don't have to worry about anything. I know you want the whole big deal with the fireworks and me in a veil and a gown with a big long train and all, so I've got it all goin' on. And all you gotta do is go for a fitting for your tuxedo.”
The sweat was dripping off Tank's chin onto his T-shirt. “Tuxedo?” he said.
“Fireworks?”
“And lots of pigs in a blanket. You like pigs in a blanket, right?”
“Yeah,” Tank said.
“Then its all settled,” Lula told him.
“I got it covered here,” I said to Tank. “Maybe you want to take a break.”
Tank nodded but didn't move.
“You aren't going to faint again, are you?” I asked him.
“Tank don't faint,” Lula said. “Look at how big he is. He got a circulation system like a steam engine.”
I knocked on Brenda's door and Nancy answered.
“Uh-oh,” she said when she saw me.
“Ranger is busy,” I told her. “Lula and I are here to take Brenda to the sound check.”
Nancy looked at Lula and gasped.
“Who's there?” Brenda called from the bedroom. “Is it Mr. Hard Ass?”
I pushed my way into the suite. “Mr. Hard Ass is busy. It's the eyelash expert and her sidekick, Lula. The cars are downstairs, waiting.”
Brenda power-walked out of the bedroom. “I am not going with you. You destroyed my good reputation. I have an image to uphold. I was a beauty queen. I was America's Sweetheart. I've gone platinum.”
“And I was a 'ho,” Lula said. “What's that got to do with the price of beans?”
Brenda's eyebrows raised up an inch. “Were you really a 'ho? I've never met a real 'ho before.”
“Probably you did,” Lula said. “There's lots of 'hos out there, but we look just like regular people.”
Brenda and I stared at Lula for a couple beats. Lula didn't nearly look like a regular person.
“So let's get a move on,” Lula said. “I don't want to miss nothing on this sound check.”
We moved out of the room, into the hall, and hustled into the elevator. We dropped to the lobby, started across the floor, and Brenda spotted the stalker.
“There's Gary,” she said. “He's not supposed to be here. I had a restraining order put on him. He should be home with his mother. Ever since he got hit by that lightning, he hasn't been right.”
“You know him?”
“He's my cousin. Before the lightning hit him, he had brown hair. Can you imagine that?”
“He said I had a red aura,” Lula said.
“You go on home,” Brenda yelled across the room to Gary. “I'll get the police after you if I see you again.”
“Watch out for the pizza,” Gary yelled back.
We climbed into one of the black SUVs and my cell phone rang.
“Where are you?” Zook asked.
“I'm in a car,” I said. “Where are you?”
“I'm at school, waiting for someone to pick me up.”
“Your mother got bonded out this morning. She was supposed to pick you up.”
“She isn't here.”
“Okay, stay right there, and I'll get back to you.”
I dialed Dom.
“What?” Dom said.
“I'm looking for Loretta.”
“She went to get the kid.”
“He just called me. He's on the street, waiting.”
“She left an hour ago,” he said. “Maybe she went to the store or something.”
I couldn't see Loretta doing that. She would have been anxious to see her son.
She would have gone to the store after she picked him up.
“Oh shit!” Dom said, panic-voiced. “I gotta go.” And he hung up.
I redialed. No answer. I called Morelli.
“Something's not right,” I said to him. “I can't locate Loretta.”
“Do you think she skipped again?”
“I don't know what I think, but I have a bad feeling in my stomach. I got a call from Zook. She never picked him up. I called Dom, and he said she left an hour ago. Someone has to get Zook.”
“Dom?”
“He hung up on me, and I can't get him back.”
“Then I guess you have to get Zook.”
“I can't get Zook. I'm working. You have to get him.”
“I can't get him. I'm in the middle of something.”
“What?”
“Baseball. You know I play ball with the guys every Thursday.”
I rolled my eyes so severely I almost fell off my seat. “Please help me out here,” I said. “He's your... cousin.”
“Okay,” Morelli said. “But only because you said please.”
The SUVs wound their way into the arena back lot, and we off-loaded at the door. The lot held the semis that haul the staging and sound equipment, two band buses, a bunch of cop cars, and a SAT TV truck.
“This is just about the most exciting thing I've ever done,” Lula said. “This is better than when Grandma Mazur burned the funeral home down. There were TV trucks from all over the place covering that.”
A woman who looked like a Nancy clone led us through the maze of cinderblock corridors to the area set aside for costume changes and makeup. Twenty to thirty people milled around a couple tables of catered food. Electrical cables snaked along the floor, and the whole deal felt like the circus was in town.
Brenda's arrival prompted a flurry of activity. The stage manager, the bandleader, the makeup wrangler, the hairdresser, and the wardrobe specialist clustered around her. I followed Ranger's instructions and kept Brenda in sight, but I did it from a distance. Brenda was suddenly the c
onsummate professional. She answered questions, she made decisions, she followed instructions. People drifted away from the food to do their jobs, and Lula, Nancy, and I waited backstage while everyone walked through the show.
“This here's what I should be doing,” Lula said. “I always wanted to be a supermodel, but now I see I should be a singer. I've been doing gigs with Sally Sweet, but it don't showcase my talent. I need to be out there on that stage with a whole bunch of half-naked men dancing behind me.”
I gnawed on my lip a little.
“What?” Lula said.
“Nothing.”
“Yessir, there's something.”
“You can't sing.”
“Yeah, but I look real good, and if the band plays loud enough, it don't matter. I think I could be a real star.”
My phone rang and I stepped into the corridor to talk.
“I got Zook and I left him with your mother,” Morelli said. “Then I rode around the neighborhood looking for Lorettas car. I found it three blocks from her mother's house. No Loretta, but her purse was on the passenger seat and there was blood on the steering wheel and door.”
I put my hand to the wall to steady myself. “How much blood?”
“Not a lot. I'm guessing she was wrestled out of the car.”
“And what about Dom?”
“Vanished.”
“Now what?”
“I have a crime scene guy here, examining the car. And I put out an informal request to look for Loretta and Dom. The mother's house wasn't locked, so I'm going back there to snoop around. How's it going with you?”
“Could be worse.”
The sound check lasted an hour. When it was over, the Nancy clone fetched us back to the dressing rooms and Lula, Nancy, and I mooched food while Brenda settled into a director's chair and the makeup wrangler started working on her. An hour later, the makeup thing was still going on and the hair guy had Brenda's hair rolled up in curlers the size of soup cans.
“You're eating a lot of doughnuts,” Lula said to me. “Something bothering you?”
“I'm worried about Loretta. She's disappeared.”
“That was fast.”
I told Lula about the car.
“That's ugly,” Lula said. “I don't like the way that sounds.”
My mother's number popped up on my cell screen. It was my Grandma Mazur.
“We're on to the griefer,” Grandma yelled into the phone. “We got him on the run. We're moving the operation to Morelli's house, so the griefer can't track us.” “Why would he track you?” “Griefers are like that,” Grandma said. “And anyway, we're driving your mother nuts.” CHAPTER NINE I had arranged for three comped tickets to be left at will call for Morelli, Zook, and Grandma. I thought it would help to take Zook's mind off his mom. Morelli phoned at seven to tell me they were in the building and so far, no word on Loretta. “After the show, I'm bringing Zook back to my house,” Morelli said. "He's persona non grata with your mother. He spray-painted his name on your mother's sidewalk and front door, and then your grandmother spray-painted Scorch on everything, including your parents' ninety-two-year-old neighbor, Mrs. Ciak.
They said it was to throw the griefer off.“ ”You need to talk to Zook. He needs a father figure.“ ”I know nothing about being a father.“ ”You're good with Bob. Just pretend he's Bob. Remember when Bob ate all your furniture? How did you get Bob to stop?“ ”I didn't. He still eats the furniture. He has me trained to live with it.“ ”You're just a big softy,“ I said to Morelli. ”Don't tell anyone, okay? I don't want that to get around. I have to go. I can't let Zook wander away from me. I'm afraid he'll redecorate the men's room.“ Ranger strolled in at ten after seven. ”Where were you?“ I asked him. ”Meetings with house security and checking the building.“ He glanced across the hall to Lula, who was taking pointers from the makeup lady. ”I understand I have a new employee.“ ”I needed someone to help persuade Brenda to come with me.“ ”Looks like it worked.“ ”How's Tank doing?“ ”He's confused. If this goes on much longer, I might have to kill Lula.“ ”You're kidding, right?“ Ranger didn't answer. ”Right?“ I asked him again. He hooked an arm around my neck, pulled me to him, and kissed me on the top of my head. ”I'm kidding. But it is tempting.“ ”So what's going on out there? Bomb threats? Animal rights activists?
Stalkers? Women against boobs?“ ”No bomb threats. All the other crazies are in full force. Never have a rock concert on a full moon.“ ”How were ticket sales?“ ”She sold out. Not a lot to do in Trenton this week. And Brenda still has a lot of fans. Mostly your parents' generation.“ Truth is, I liked Brenda's music. She had a brassy way of combining country and rock, and she could really belt it out when she wanted. At least, that was true of her last album, but that was a bunch of years ago. I suspected that, in spite of all her efforts, she wasn't capturing the kids. And the kids were the ones who spent money on music. The kids bought sex, and Brenda was good, but she wasn't sexy to a sixteen-year-old. Even the Stones were struggling with that... and they were the Stones] Brenda spotted Ranger and blew him a kiss. ”Sorry,“ I said to Ranger, ”you can't kill her, either.“ ”I'm getting nervous,“ Brenda said. ”I'm gonna throw up. I need a drink. I need a pill. Somebody get me something.“ ”You'll be fine,“ Nancy told her. ”I need a pill.“ ”Last time you took a pill before a performance, you fell off the stage.“ ”Yes, but it was a lot of pills on that occasion.“ Lula stood hands on hips. ”You don't need no pills,“ she said. ”You're a professional. Get a grip on yourself.“ ”You don't know what it's like,“ Brenda said. ”I had a chili dog for dinner.
Suppose I fart?“ ”You're in Trenton. No one would notice a fart,“ Lula said. After the concert, we immediately hustled Rrenda off the stage, through the maze of corridors, out the door to the secure lot. ”I was hot,“ Brenda said. ”I remembered all the words to the songs. And I didn't knock any of the dancers down.“ ”You were great,“ Nancy said. ”The concert was fabulous.“ We wedged Brenda into the SUV's backseat between Ranger and me. Nancy and Lula were behind us. We rolled out of the lot with a police escort. We didn't need the police, but the concert promoter wanted the flashing lights. ”So what about it?“ Brenda asked Ranger. ”No,“ Ranger said. ”I swear, you aren't any fun at all. What's the deal with you? I know you aren't gay. You aren't nice enough to be gay-“ The caravan pulled up to the front entrance of the hotel and photographers rushed out to take pictures. Local television was inside, plus a handful of journalists. And scattered in the mix were random fans and special-interest protestors hoping to get a spot on the evening news. Ranger got out first, then Brenda, and then the rest of us. Brenda posed for photos and made her way through the big glass doors into the lobby. The local anchor was waiting for an interview. Brenda stepped up to the anchor, and the circle of fans and photographers closed in. ”We need space,“ the anchor said. ”I'm on it,“ Lula told her. ”You people better back up, or I'm gonna sit on you. Oops, did I step on your foot with my high heels? “Scuse me. Sorry I got you with my elbow. Coming back. Beep, beep, beep. I got a gun... you better listen to me.” “Do you really have a gun?” the anchor asked. "Sure I got a gun. What kind of half-assed security would I be without a gun?
“Course, I'm just moonlighting here for a friend. Stephanie and me are mostly bounty hunters. And I sing with a band. You might want to have me on your show sometime. I got moves.” Lula snapped her fingers and stuck out a hip. “Woo!” she said. Ranger had me by the back of my jacket. “Get her out of here before she tells them she works for me. I'll get Hal to help me with Brenda.” I parked in front of Morelli's house, and Morelli pulled in behind me. “That was great,” Zook said. “Everyone at school's gonna be way jealous. And Joe used the Kojak light to get us through traffic.” Morelli opened the front door, and Bob bounced out at us. He ran to a patch of wilted grass, tinkled, and ran back inside the house. I followed Bob through the house to the kitchen. I gave Bob a dog biscuit, and I looked in the freezer for ice cream. Hooray! A new tub o
f chocolate. Morelli and I sat at the little kitchen table and ate our ice cream. Zook took his into the living room and went online. “Do you think he should be online at this hour?” I asked Morelli. “It's a school night.” “When I was his age, I was stealing cars at this time of the night, and you were sneaking out your parents' bathroom window.” “Yeah, but we're on the other side now. We're supposed to be smarter than Zook.” “I just spent half a day with him, and I'm not sure I'm smarter. And I'm not sure I feel comfortable being on the other side. It's like I fast-forwarded my life by fifteen years.” “He's not here,” Zook said from the living room. “Who?” I asked. “The griefer. Moondog. He's always here, but now he's not.” “Maybe you and Grandma scared him off.” The doorbell rang, and Morelli and I did raised eyebrows. It was late for someone to be visiting. Morelli went to the door, and I trailed behind. With the way things were going, it could be Dom or Loretta or a cop with bad news. Morelli opened the door, and we both gaped at the guy on the porch. He was my age and just under six feet tall, with shoulder-length, light brown hair, parted in the middle. He was slim and pale, dressed in baggy jeans and a Fruits Basket T-shirt. “I'm looking for Zook,” he said. I switched the porch light on and stared out at him. “Mooner?” He squinted back at me. “Stephanie Plum?” He turned his attention to Morelli. “And the dude! Whoa, this is too heavy. What's going on? You aren't Zook, are you?” I'd gone to high school with Walter MoonMan Dunphy. MoonMan was the class stoner and voted most likely to get adopted by a little old lady. He drifted in and out of people's lives, happy to get the occasional bowl of ice cream or cat kibble. He used to live with two other losers on Grant Street, but last I heard he'd moved back home with his mother. “I'm Zook,” Mario said from the couch. Mooner looked in at him. “The little dude is Zook. I can dig it. It's always a little dude.” “Who are you?” Zook asked. “I'm Moondog.” “No way!” “Way, man,” Mooner said. “I hacked this address. I wanted to see what you looked like. Man, you're harsh. I was having a good run, and you rained on my parade. You and Scorch. I'm, like, all bummed now.” “It's not like we finished you off,” Zook said. “Dude, it was only a matter of time. And Scorch is an animal. Scorch comes on, and I can smell sulfur.” “So, you're the griefer,” Morelli said. “How'd that happen?” Mooner shrugged. “Destiny, dude.” “What are you going to do now?” Zook asked Mooner. “You still have a powerful PC.” "Yeah, but not as powerful as yours. You could go all the way.
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