Zook's voice whispered over the two-way. “I got a bandit at two o'clock. I need a partial baked.”
Gary ran into the kitchen and handed Zook a potato. Zook dropped it into his PVC pipe and rammed it down. Gary sprayed hairspray into the pipe and jumped back. Zook pointed the spud gun out the door and phoonf! Zook got knocked on his ass from the kick, and the potato rocketed out of the pipe and caught the digger in the back of his leg. The guy went down like a house of cards and rolled around yelping. He got up and half limped, half ran out of the yard.
I was dumbstruck. I didn't know whether to burst out laughing or be truly horrified.
Zook got to his feet. “We only use raw potatoes on cars and stuff. We use half-baked on poachers. It leaves a good bruise, but it isn't lethal. We tried using eggs, but the gun kept misfiring.”
I called Morelli and got his voice mail. “Just checking in,” I said. “And by the way, no reason to get alarmed, but do you have personal liability insurance tacked on to your homeowners?”
Lula had her head stuck in the refrigerator. “Where's the fried chicken? You gotta have fried chicken on Sunday.”
“I want to talk to Stanley Zero's almost-ex-wife,” I said to Lula. “We can stop at Cluck-in-a-Bucket on the way.”
“Why do you want to talk to his ex?”
“I had good luck with Dom's ex. I thought it wouldn't hurt to try Zero's.”
Lula looked at Gary, standing in the dining room. “You think we should leave the homegrown idiots alone?”
I was between a rock and a hard place. I didn't trust the three potato heads to make the right decision on anything, but I was panicked over Lorettas fingers and toes.
“You stay here,” I said to Lula. “I'll have a little conversation with Zero's wife, and I'll stop at Cluck-in-a-Bucket on the way home.”
“You aren't going to be long, are you? I don't have a lot of patience when it comes to fried chicken.”
“An hour, tops.”
“Okay,” Lula said. “I guess I could last. I want a large bucket of extra spicy, extra crispy fried chicken. I want a order of biscuits with gravy and some coleslaw.”
“I thought you were trying to lose weight.”
“Yeah, but I don't want to waste away to nothing. And anyway, everyone knows you don't gain weight on Sunday. Sunday's a free day.”
Lisa Zero lived in a nice little house in Hamilton Township. The nine-year-old answered the door and Lisa immediately showed up behind him. She was wearing makeup and a skirt, and I guessed she'd gone to church this morning. She was a couple inches shorter than me and a couple pounds heavier. Her eyes were red, as if she'd been crying. I supposed she'd heard about Stanley.
I introduced myself and apologized for being blue and for intruding.
“It's okay,” she said. “Let's step outside. I don't want the kids to hear. I haven't told them yet. Stanley was an asshole, but he was still their father.”
“Did you know he was involved in the bank robbery?”
“I suspected. Not at the time, but the last couple years he started drinking too much and he'd say things. I guess you're after the money. I shook my head. ”No. I'm looking for the fourth partner.“ ”I'm afraid I can't help you there. Stanley never said anything about the partners. He only talked about the money. How when Dom got out, they could put it all together, and they'd all be rich.“ ”Put it all together?“ ”Yeah, I don't know what he meant by that, but I got the feeling there was a map or something. Or maybe a bank account in all their names. Like they each had a piece of a puzzle. I didn't figure I'd ever see it, so I didn't pay close attention. He'd drink, and then he'd get real talky, and then he'd get mean.“ ”I'm sorry.“ ”It's okay. I got the house, and we're moving ahead with our lives.“ ”Do you know a guy named Allen Gratelli?“ ”No.“ ”But you knew Dom.“ ”Not really. I only knew him from the newspaper articles when he robbed the bank, and then when Stanley started talking about him.“ ”You must have been surprised to learn Stanley was mixed up in a bank robbery.“ ”Stanley was always mixed up in something. He was always looking for easy money. One time, he held up a convenience store and stole lottery tickets.
Hello. Like they couldn't figure that one out if he won?“ I gave Lisa Zero my card and told her to call if she thought of anything helpful. I wound my way through her subdivision, hit Klockner, and drove on autopilot to Cluck-in-a-Bucket. I parked in the lot, under the big rotating chicken. I stuffed a couple twenties into my jeans pocket and got out of the Zook car. Cluck-in-a-Bucket is a zoo on Sunday It's the lunch of choice for the lazy, the fat, the salt-starved, the emotionally injured, the families on budgets, the cholesterol-deprived, and the remaining ten percent of the population who just want a piece of chicken. The tables and booths were filled and there were lines in front of all the registers at the counter. Clucky Chicken was making balloon chickens for the kids and handing out coupons for Clucky Apple Pies. I went to the end of a line and zoned out. No one seemed to notice I was blue. I was thinking about Lisa Zero and her comment about the puzzle pieces. Suppose Dom was the one who hid the money, and to make sure it was still intact when he got out of prison, he didn't tell his partners the exact location. But maybe it was a concern that Dom might not make it through his term, so each partner got a piece of the treasure map. No. That didn't work. They could put their pieces together any time they wanted and cut Dom out. Okay, suppose a fifth person, like Aunt Rose, hid the money? And then she gave each of the partners a piece of the map. I shuffled forward in the chicken line, still thinking about the map. The fifth-person theory didn't totally hold up, either. The partners were ruthless. They were killing one another off and mutilating Loretta. They would have gotten the money location out of Rose. I absentmindedly looked around as I took another step forward. Two people in front of me. Three lined up behind. There were five registers working. I was in the line farthest from the door. I looked over and saw a stocky guy push in. Big head, balding, curly black hair. Unibrow. Looked like he slept in his clothes. Dom. I had nothing on me to help subdue him. Stun gun, pepper spray, cuffs were in my purse in the car. He was bigger and meaner than me, and I had no legal reason to apprehend. I moved out of line, keeping my eye on him, trying to be invisible. My plan was to work my way around to the door and try to follow him when he left. Dom was rumbling around, looking for the shortest line. My line moved forward, Dom elbowed his way over and spotted me. Our eyes locked for a moment, and Dom whirled around and shoved his way to the door. His effort was misconstrued as line-breaking, and this was an unfortunate thing, since line-breaking doesn't go down well in Jersey. ”Asshole,“ some woman said, giving him a hard shot to the kidney. Dom instinctively turned on her and coldcocked her with a punch to the forehead. The woman went down to the ground and the rest was pandemonium. I dove for Dom and missed him by inches. Mothers were grabbing for their children and dropping food. Clucky Chicken was in the mix, waving his wings, trying to keep his footing. I slid on mashed potatoes and took Clucky down with me. A pack of people piled on top of us. ”I hate this lousy job,“ Clucky said, kicking people off him. ”This is the third time this has happened this month.“ I was on hands and knees, and I saw Brenda and her crew at the door. Brenda had a mic in her hand and the camera guy was filming. ”This is Brenda reporting from Cluck-in-a-Bucket,“ Brenda said. ”Bringing you a live update on the latest developments in the hunt for the missing nine million dollars. We're here to interview Stephanie Plum.“ I dragged myself to my feet and picked mashed potatoes out of my hair. I was drenched with soda and covered with gravy. I looked around, but I didn't see Dom. ”So,“ Brenda said, pointing the mic at me, ”are you making any progress at locating the money?“ ”How did you find me?“ I asked her. ”We were driving by and saw the Zook car in the parking lot.“ Great. The Zook car. ”No comment,“ I said, easing my way past the film crew. ”Jeez,“ Brenda said. ”Give me a break here. I'm trying to get something going.
Do you have any idea what it's like for a sixty-one-year
-old woman in show business? The only parts you can get are witches and grandmothers.“ ”What about the stage show?“ ”The stage show sucks. I'm playing Trenton, for crying out loud! All the men in the act are gay and all the women are forty years younger than me. Okay, I know I don't look my age, but I'm busting my ass on maintenance. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up before I need more work.“ ”What kind of work?“ ”All kinds of work. My facelift is eight years old. I've got two years, tops, and then the warranty runs out. The implants are shifting in my breasts, and these young guys I'm fucking are killing me. I'm going to need a vagina transplant.“ ”Maybe you should consider a man more your own age.“ ”Have you ever seen a man my age naked? It's frightening. It's like everything has stretched. And then you do the deed with him and it's like fucking Rubberman. And halfway through, you're wondering what the heck that noise is and you realize he's fallen asleep and he's snoring. You have to have football playing on television to keep him awake.“ ”Sometimes Joe watches football after.“ ”Joe. Is that the Italian Stallion who turned the hose on me?“ ”Yep.“ ”No offense, but I wouldn't mind doing him.“ ”No offense taken. Almost everyone wants to do him.“ I looked down at my shirt. The gravy was congealing. ”I need to get home and change my shirt.“ ”Well, there you have it from Stephanie Plum,“ Brenda said to the camera. ”It looks like the money is still up for grabs, folks.“ I hurried to my car, rammed myself behind the wheel, and motored off. Depressing news about sixty-one-year-old men. Probably it didn't apply to Morelli and Ranger. I called Lula when I was half a block away. ”Don't let anyone shoot vegetables at me,“ I told her. ”I'm about to park in front of the house.“ ”Copy,“ Lula said. ”Cease all operations,“ she yelled out. This wasn't a desirable sign. I was hoping Lula would confiscate weapons, but it sounded like she'd signed on to Star Fleet. ”Where's my chicken?“ Lula wanted to know, opening the door to me. ”I don't see no bags or buckets. All I see is you wearing dinner.“ ”It's complicated,“ I said. ”I bet. Is that my mashed potatoes in your hair?“ ”I never got that far. I was in line and there was a riot.“ ”Yeah, but after the riot you should have tried the drive-through.“ Mooner was holding his position at the front window. ”He hasn't shot anyone, has he?“ I asked Lula. ”Since you been gone? He lobbed a tomato at an old guy with a shovel. Got him in the head and it was instant salsa. That was about it.“ The news van pulled to the curb behind my car. ”Whoa,“ Mooner said. ”It's the news. I hate the news. It's never good.“ ”I'll get rid of them,“ Lula said. ”Give me the big boy.“ Gary ran forward and handed Lula a monster spud gun. It was made from wide bore black pipe and had to be four feet long. Lula opened the door, set the pipe on Mooner's shoulder, Gary dropped a honeydew melon into the pipe, rammed it down, and sprayed it. ”Fire in the hole,“ Lula yelled, and turned the ignitor knob. POW! The melon exploded out of the pipe, Lula and Mooner were knocked off their feet, and the melon sailed over the news truck like a cannonball and took the top off a flowering crabapple tree on the other side of the street. ”Did I hit the target?“ Lula asked. ”No, but you scared the crap out of them. They're already in the next county.“ ”I need a sight,“ Lula said to Mooner. ”All us expert marksmen have sights.“ ”It would be awesome if we had monkey shit,“ Mooner said. ”Forget the monkey shit,“ Lula told him. ”I'm not getting you no monkey shit.
I hate monkeys.“ ”This isn't a good idea,“ I said. ”Someone's going to get hurt with this stuff. I want it all put away. Put it in the cellar.“ ”Mooch and some other guy are in the cellar digging,“ Lula said. ”Zook accidentally beaned Mooch with a half-baked when he saw him in the yard, and we might not want to get too close to Mooch until he calms down.“ ”Then put the spud guns someplace else. Just stop using them.“ ”Yeah,“ Lula said, ”but what if we see people trespassing? Morelli's paying these men good money to protect his property. You wouldn't want them to be derelict in their duties.“ My eye was twitching like mad. I put my finger to it and looked at Lula out of the other eye. ”I'm going to take a shower. Use some common sense.“ ”Sure, I got lots of common sense,“ Lula said. ”You can count on me.“ I threw my clothes into the laundry basket in Morelli's room, wrapped myself in his robe, and ran across the hall to the bathroom to take a shower. When I came back to the bedroom with clean hair and body, I found Bob eating my clothes. Couldn't blame him. They smelled like fried chicken and gravy. I wrestled what was left of the clothes away from Bob and assessed the damage. T-shirt half there. Jeans had chunks missing. Socks and underwear, gone. Not the first time Bob had eaten my underwear, so I knew the drill. Bob would be spending a lot of time in the backyard tomorrow, letting nature take its course. I got dressed and blasted my hair with the hair dryer. I took a close look at myself in the mirror. The blue was fading. I was now a ghoulish shade of pale. I went back to the bedroom and dialed Morelli. ”Yep,“ Morelli said. ”Have you got a minute to talk?“ ”Thirty seconds, tops. This is a royal mess. Two kids dead. A shooter who is related to a councilman. Two more at large. And the neighborhood is in a state of siege. What's up?“ ”You have three lunatics guarding your house, there are a bunch of fortune hunters creeping around your yard, someone sent you Loretta's pinky toe, and Bob ate my underpants.“ ”Lucky Bob.“ ”I put the toe in your freezer.“ ”Shit,“ Morelli said. ”I'm out of Rolaids. Are you sure it was a toe?“ ”Either that or a giant garbonzo bean with a toenail.“ ”I'll be home as soon as I can, but it will probably be late tonight.“ ”Should I report the toe to someone?“ I asked him. ”I'll tell Spanner about it. I'm sure it's all related. Gotta go.“ I flopped onto the bed and covered my eyes with my hands. The day was grinding on, and I wasn't making any progress. Loretta was suffering somewhere, and I couldn't get to her. Let's list all this out, I thought. What do I know about the fourth partner? I know he's single. I know what his shoes look like. I might remember his voice. That's it. That's all I know. No it isn't, I thought. I know more. None of it good. I know he robbed a bank and let his partner take the fall. I know he killed one or more of his partners and blew up a house. I know he has Loretta and is capable of doing most anything to her. I know for sure that he wants the nine million real bad. And either he thinks Morelli has already found the money, or he's decided his best shot is to force Morelli to find it for him. What else do I know? I know Dom is still in the neighborhood. I carted my half-eaten clothes downstairs and tossed them into the garbage. I ate a bowl of cereal and a banana, and I went into the living room. Zook, Mooner, and Gary were back to the world of Minionfire. The spud guns were lined up along the wall. Lula was on the phone. ”What do you mean he don't want to talk to me? Of course he wants to talk to me. I'm his honey. We're engaged to get married.
Did you tell him it was Lula?“ She listened for a minute, tapping her toe, looking really pissed off. ”You're a big fibber. I've got a mind to come over there and hit you alongside the head. How'd you like that, you little pissant?“ I gave Lula raised eyebrows. ”Hunh,“ Lula said. ”He hung up on me.“ ”You called him a pissant.“ ”I just learned that word yesterday. It was on one of them game shows. I bet he don't even know what it means.“ ”Who were you talking to?“ ”Some guy at Rangeman. Hal or Cal or something.“ My cell phone rang. ”Babe,“ Ranger said. ”Do something with her.“ And he disconnected. I called Ranger back. ”No,“ I said. ”And I need information on Jelly Kantner.
His apartment got blown up, and I need to find him.“ ”And I should do this why?“ ”Because you like me.“ There was a full beat of silence. ”I do,“ Ranger said. ”I like you a lot.
Sometimes I'm not sure why. Give me a couple minutes.“ I slid my phone into my pocket and waited. Five minutes went by and finally Ranger called. ”What do you mean you're not sure why you like me?“ I asked him. ”Liking you doesn't seem to be getting me where I want to go.“ ”Maybe you need to change the destination.“ ”Maybe,“ Ranger said. ”But not today. I have a personal information report for you on Jelly Kantner, also known as Jay Kantner.“ ”E-mail
Kantner's report to Morelli.“ ”Ten-four.“ I moved to Morelli's office and waited for the e-mail to come in. I printed the report and sat in his chair to read it. Kantner's parents were deceased. He had a sister living in the Burg. She was married with two kids. Kantner had no derogatory information. His credit was good. He'd worked as a maintenance specialist for J. B. Management Associates for ten years. Probably didn't make a lot of money but his work history was solid. He'd never married. I called the sister's number and asked for Jelly ”Jelly,“ she shouted. ”It's a girl“ ”Hello?“ Jelly said. ”Hey, it's Stephanie Plum.“ ”Oh no!“ ”Don't hang up. I just want to talk to you.“ ”Okay,“ Jelly said. Tentative. Not sure if it was a smart thing. ”I'm trying to find Dom,“ I told him. ”I don't know where he is. He got my apartment blown up. And I haven't seen him since.“ ”You're friends. You must have some idea where he went.“ ”We were friends. In the past. No more. Not ever again. He took off as soon as I didn't have an apartment. He never even said thank you or gee, I'm sorry.
All he thinks about is himself. He used to be fun, but now he's crazy. All he ever talked about was the money and how he hates Morelli. He blames Morelli for everything. He said Morelli swindled him out of his house and his future. He never said, but I figured the money had to be in that house somewhere. He was obsessed with the stupid house.“ ”Did he have a map or directions that led to the money?“ ”No. He said it was in his head.“ ”What about Victor or Benny? He used to hang with them. Would they take him in?“ ”Are you kidding? Those guys are locked down. Their wives would kick their asses if they had anything to do with Dom.“ ”Relatives?“ I asked him. ”Maybe. He's related to half the Burg. He used to be close to his cousin Bugger, but I don't know about now.“ ”Bugger Baronni?“ ”Yeah, there's only one Bugger.“ Thank heavens for that. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN I LEFT Mooner, Zook, and Gary home alone with detailed instructions. They were to wash my car. They were to stay close to Morelli's house. They were not allowed to shoot anything. They were to stay away from Mooch. We were in Lula's Firebird, and Lula was in a mood. ”First off, I never got no chicken. And now I'm driving you to check out some guy named Bugger. I don't even want to know how he got that name.“ ”Sixth grade,“ I said. ”On a class trip to a petting zoo.“ ”What's he doing now?“ ”He's a lawyer.“ ”Figures,“ Lula said. Bugger lived a little north of Trenton, in an affluent neighborhood close to the river. He specialized in messy divorce cases, and the word on him was that everyone took it up the ass when he got involved. Literally and figuratively. I thought chances were slim that Dom was here, but no stone unturned. Bugger was a relative and sometimes that meant something. As would the possibility of getting cut in on nine million dollars. There was no Mrs. Bugger. No Mr. Bugger, either. Just Bugger and a big dog named Lover. Lula drove by the house and gave a low whistle. ”This guy does okay.“ The house was a redbrick colonial that looked like about ten thousand square feet under roof. It was on a large landscaped lot with a gated drive. Much of the house and yard was obscured by a privacy hedge. The house was impressive but felt excessively large for one person. I guess you have a big house like that, you get used to living in it, but all I could think of was keeping toilet paper in all those bathrooms. ”What's this guy look like?“ Lula wanted to know. ”I only met him once when I was at a party years ago, but I remember him as a slim Dom.“ If my life wasn't so complicated, I'd stake out the house. It was as good a place as any for Dom to hide. He'd be relatively safe behind the gates. Bugger obviously had guest rooms and probably had a couple cars. Plus, Bugger had no scruples and loved money. It was a match made in heaven. ”I don't suppose you'd want to do a stakeout for me?“ I asked Lula. ”Don't suppose I would,“ Lula said. ”Who you want to stake out?“ ”Bugger.“ Lula looked up and down the street. ”How are you gonna do a stakeout here?
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