Explosive Eighteen

by Janet Evanovich

  “Big deal. The charges were bogus. I was never worried about the charges.”

  “What are you worried about?”

  “There’s nothing green here,” Joyce said.

  “Olives.”

  “Olives are a fruit. Look at this mess. You haven’t got a single vegetable.”

  “There’s tomato sauce on the pizza.”

  “Another fruit.”

  As if my life wasn’t enough in the toilet, Joyce Barnhardt was now smarter and obviously ate better than me.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I said. “What are you worried about?”

  Joyce selected a mystery piece from the fried chicken bucket. “You ever hear of the Pink Panthers?”

  “The movies?”

  “No, the organization. Interpol has assigned the name Pink Panthers to an international jewel thief network. Interpol took the name from the movies.”

  “The movies are great.”

  “Focus,” Joyce said. “We’re talking about the network. Frank Korda was part of the network. I know it’s hard to believe that there’s this nebbish guy in Trenton associated with the Pink Panthers. I mean, the Pink Panthers are big. They’re HUGE! They stole a $27 million diamond necklace one time from a store in Tokyo. Anyway, somehow Korda connected with these guys.”

  “What’s the advantage?”

  “According to Korda, the Panthers have the ability to fence the stolen jewelry. Korda said it’s not hard to steal jewelry, but it’s risky to try to sell it.”

  “Korda was stealing jewelry?”

  “Big-time. He’d get the real thing into his store, sell it at a profit, and send the customer home with a knockoff. Plus, he’d shop around and lift and replace.”

  “And what’s your role in this?”

  “He wanted to go bigger. He saw a couple pieces in New York. One was at Harry Winston. There was another at Chopard. He said it was a four-man operation. There were two other Pink Panthers who were going to help out, and he was going to use me as a distraction. He said if I did a good job, the Panthers would let me into the network.”

  “You wanted to be a Pink Panther?”

  “I’d give my right nut to be a Pink Panther.”

  “You have a nut?”

  “No, but if I had one, I’d give it.”

  “Do you know who killed Korda?”

  “It was the Panthers. I used to come to the store to help Frank plan his capers, and …”

  I inadvertently giggled.

  “What’s so funny?” Joyce asked.

  “You said capers.”

  “Grow up. That’s what we call the jobs in the trade.”

  I cracked open a beer and chugged half. No laughing, I told myself. If you laugh at Joyce, she won’t tell you the whole story, and you want to hear the whole story, no matter how ridiculous.

  “Okay,” I said. “Sorry. You were helping Frank plan his capers.”

  “Yeah, and we were fooling around a little. And he promised me this necklace he stole, but he couldn’t give it to me because it was too hot. And next thing I know, his wife is walking down the street wearing my necklace. So I went to the store to find out what the fuck’s going on, and we had a big fight. He said everything was off. He said the Pink Panthers didn’t want me, and he was getting out of the network anyway. He said something went sour. So I said what about the necklace? And he said his wife saw it and wanted it. So I told him he owed me, and I took a necklace out of the case. And the shithead came out after me, yelling that I stole a necklace. Can you believe it?”

  “So you got arrested, and Vinnie bonded you out.”

  “Exactly. I put my Mercedes up.”

  “The one that got crushed?”

  “Yeah. There’s something sort of good about that part, right? Anyway, next thing, I get a text message from Frank, and he wants to talk to me. So I go park in the lot behind the store, just like always. And Frank comes out, and he’s got the necklace. And he’s real sorry. And one thing leads to another, and I sort of have my face buried in his lap, so my vision is limited, right?”

  Eeeuw.

  “But I catch a flash of pink,” Joyce said. “And everything instantly goes limp on Frank. Everything. And next thing, I get stunned. And when I come around I’m stuffed into the trunk of a car with Frank. And Frank’s dead. I don’t know how he got dead. He wasn’t shot. There was no blood. For all I know, he could have had a heart attack. By the time I was able to get out from under Frank and get to the inside trunk latch, it was dark, and turned out the car was parked at the junkyard. I barely got out of the trunk, and the dog came at me and I ran for my life. Good thing the car was parked close to the fence. I went up the chain-link like a ninja.”

  “And you think it was the Pink Panthers?”

  “Who else would it be? I saw the flash of pink material when they zapped Frank.”

  “And you’re afraid to go back to your condo.”

  “They could be watching,” Joyce said. “They tried to kill me once. I figure they’ll keep trying if they see I’m alive.”

  I gnawed on a piece of chicken and chugged the rest of my beer. “It doesn’t add up. Why would they want to kill you?”

  “I guess I know too much. Frank told me the names of some of the thieves. And I saw pictures of the two people we were going to be working with in New York.”

  I didn’t know how the Pink Panthers operated, but if I wanted someone dead, I wouldn’t just abandon them in the junkyard. I’d make sure they were totally and completely dead before I walked away.

  “Why don’t you go to the police?” I asked her.

  “Even if they believe my story, what are they going to do to help me?”

  Here was the question I dreaded asking. “Why are you here? What do you expect me to do to help you?”

  “I need the treasure chest. Everything is in there. All the Pink Panther contact information. I figure if I could get in touch with the Panthers, I could negotiate.”

  “Where is this treasure chest?”

  “Frank used to keep it at the store.”

  “You know what it looks like, right?”

  “It looks like a miniature pirate chest. Frank said you hide things in obvious places because that’s never where anyone looks. He kept the chest on the shelf behind the register. There are some picture frames, and small glass vases, and the chest is in the middle.”

  I finished my piece of chicken and washed my hands. I wanted a cookie, but I wasn’t going to open the package of Vienna Fingers in front of Joyce. I didn’t want to share.

  “I’m not breaking into the store,” I said.

  “It’s not a big deal. I know the code. I watched Frank punch it in.”

  “Then why don’t you do it?”

  “The Panthers could be watching.”

  “I think there’s a real good chance they’ve all gone back to Pink Panther land.”

  “No way. The Panthers are tenacious.” She eyeballed the Vienna Fingers sitting on the counter. “I guess I’ll just have to stay here forever.”

  “Don’t even think about eating those Vienna Fingers,” I told her.

  “Better on your hips than mine. Obviously, you don’t care how big your ass gets.”

  Here are my options, I thought. I could stun her when she goes to sleep, drag her into the hall again, and have bars installed on my bedroom window. I could get the treasure chest. Or I could kill her.

  “How am I going to get into the store?” I asked her.

  “I assumed you had skills.”

  “You assumed wrong. I have no skills.” That wasn’t even an understatement. What I had was luck, friends, and tenacity born of desperation.

  “You know people who do have skills,” Joyce said.

  “Fine,” I said, “I’ll get the stupid treasure chest.” I grabbed the Vienna Fingers and shoved them into my messenger bag. “Do not eat my frozen pizza. Do not drink my wine.”

  Joyce tore a scrap off one of the grocery bags and wrot
e the code on it. “Say hello to Ranger for me. Tell him if he ever wants to trade up, I might give him a tug.”

  For a moment I considered option number three. Someone really needed to kill Joyce. My fear was that I’d bungle it. Then what? She could be a living vegetable in my apartment for the rest of her life while I spooned soup into her and rubbed her feet.

  I hiked my bag up onto my shoulder and left my apartment. I took the elevator and called Ranger when I got to the foyer.

  “I need help,” I said. “I need to break into a jewelry store.”

  There was a beat of silence. “Looking to accessorize?”

  “I need to get into Frank Korda’s store. Can you get me in? I know the security code.”

  “No problem.”

  “I’m leaving my apartment now. I’ll meet you behind the store in about twenty minutes.”

  I still had the Glock in my bag. I wrapped my hand around it, left the building, and walked to my truck with my eyes sweeping the lot, looking for Razzle Dazzle. I made it to the truck, got up behind the wheel, and locked the doors.

  The drive to Korda’s store was uneventful, and Ranger’s Porsche 911 Turbo was already parked in the lot when I got there. I pulled in beside him and got out.

  “Babe,” Ranger said. “You’re supposed to dress in black for a nighttime jewel heist.”

  Ranger was in black, of course.

  “It’s not a jewel heist,” I told him. “I’m looking for a little pirate chest.”

  He handed over infrared goggles. “Use these. It’s dark in there and a penlight will give you away.”

  Ranger went to the door and looked at the lock. He removed a slim tool from his pocket, inserted the tool into the lock, and in seconds we were inside.

  I punched the code into the security system, put the goggles on, and went directly to the shelf behind the register. There were picture frames and vases, but no chest. I methodically went through the room. No chest. I moved to the back storeroom and worked my way around. Nothing.

  “I’m getting the impression this isn’t going well,” Ranger said.

  “Joyce said the chest would be on the shelf behind the register, but it isn’t there. I’ve looked all through the store, and I can’t find it.”

  “Joyce?”

  “Barnhardt. She’s moved into my apartment, and I can’t get her out. I stun-gun her, drag her into the hall, and she comes back.”

  “How does she get in?” Ranger asked.

  “Fire escape.”

  “I could have it electrified.”

  “I thought of that, but Mrs. Delgado’s cat would get fried.”

  Ranger removed my goggles. “Would you like to come home with me?”

  I stepped away from him. “Thank you for the offer, but no. I’m done with men.”

  Ranger smiled. “Forever?”

  “Until I figure some things out.”

  “And if you don’t figure them out?”

  “If I can’t figure them out on my own, I’ll ask you to help me.”

  “Babe, that’s like the blind leading the blind.”

  • • •

  I sat in the parking lot to my apartment building and ate half a package of Vienna Fingers. Lights were on in my apartment. Joyce was all cozy up there, watching television, probably drinking my wine. Ranger was no doubt back in his penthouse on the seventh floor of Rangeman. Morelli was most likely at home, watching a ball game with Bob. And here I was hiding out in my truck. It was pathetic. I slipped the uneaten Vienna Fingers into my bag and grabbed the Glock. I left the truck and crossed the lot to the back door. I was ten feet from the building, and Raz jumped out of the shadows, knife in hand.

  “You bitch lady,” he said. “Now we talk. We deal, eh?”

  He lunged at me with the knife, and I shot him in his good leg. We both stood dead still for a long moment in shock.

  He looked down at his leg and made a strangled sound deep in his throat. “Motherfucking shit,” he said.

  “What’s this about?” I asked him. “Why do you want the photograph, which by the way I don’t have?”

  “Boss say to get it, and I get it. I don’t get it, and I get shot again. This time in the eye, hanging upside down with heavy rocks tied to my testicles.”

  He turned and limped into the lot.

  “Hey,” I said. “I’m not done. Stop or I’ll shoot.”

  “Crazy American bitch,” he said. “Shoot me. You think I care? Shoot me again. I live for pain.”

  He dragged himself into a silver Sentra and drove away.

  Mr. Daly stuck his head out of his second-floor window. “What was that? Did I hear a gunshot?”

  “I didn’t hear anything,” I said, looking up at Mr. Daly, dropping my gun into my bag. “Must have been someone’s t-t-television.”

  I was hyperventilating and my hands were shaking when I got to my apartment, and I had to two-fist the key to unlock my door. I got inside, did some deep breathing, and went straight to the kitchen for the wine. Half a bottle left. Good enough. I poured some into a water glass and took it into the living room, where Joyce was waiting.

  “The chest wasn’t in the store,” I said to her. “It wasn’t on the shelf. It wasn’t anywhere.”

  “That’s impossible. It was always on the shelf.”

  “When was the last time you saw it?”

  “The day I was arrested. Frank said we were out of the Pink Panther business, and he wanted his key. And I told him I didn’t have it on me, not to mention he could kiss the key good-bye. I remember looking up at the chest when I said it. That was the last I was in the store. I didn’t go into the store when I came back later in the day.”

  “I bet the Pink Panthers broke into the store and took the chest after they dropped you off at the junkyard.”

  “That would be a real bitch,” Joyce said. “I needed that chest to bargain. At least I have the key. There are numbers on the key that go with the chest. Problem is, I don’t know how to get in touch with the Panthers without the chest.”

  I looked at my wineglass. It was empty. “You could put the key up on Craigslist and see if you get any takers. And did you look to see if there’s a Pink Panthers Facebook page? Everyone has a Facebook page. Not me, of course, but everyone else.”

  “Somehow I don’t think the Pink Panthers are going to have a Facebook page.”

  “Did anyone come looking for me tonight?”

  “Yeah, some Russian Gypsy who looked like he got run over by a front loader. I didn’t catch his name, but he was limping. He didn’t impress me as much of a good time, so I didn’t invite him in. Did he catch up with you?”

  “Yeah. He was waiting downstairs.”

  “And?”

  “I shot him, and he left.”

  “Nice. I was thinking we should put the frozen pizza in the oven. Is there any more wine?”

  NINETEEN

  ORDINARILY, I WAKE UP Sunday morning feeling glorious. I apologize to God for not attending Mass, and then I roll over and go back to sleep. This morning, I woke up worrying about the guy I’d shot. It hadn’t looked like a life-threatening wound, but he still would have to get the bullet dug out and make sure it didn’t get infected. The good news was he’d probably already gotten a tetanus shot from when I knifed him. And truth is, I’d be much better off if the infection killed him. He wasn’t a nice man.

  Thoughts of Raz got pushed aside when I remembered Joyce Barnhardt was in my living room. I had to find a way to get her out, once and for all, the sooner the better. I pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt and trudged into the kitchen. Joyce was already there, searching the cabinets, undoubtedly looking for smoked salmon and caviar and croissants.

  “You went shopping, but I can’t find any food,” she said.

  “Au contraire, I got all my favorite staples, plus my Sunday morning special treat. Strawberry Pop-Tarts.”

  I got the coffee brewing, and I took a Pop-Tart out of the box.

  “I’ve been thinking,�
�� I said to Joyce. “You need to leave. You should go home. I’m sure the Pink Panthers have moved on to bigger and better projects. And besides, you have a gun, right? If they get irritating, just shoot them.”

  “These guys are professionals,” Joyce said. “It’s not like they’re Burg stumblebums. And by the way, you look like crap. What have you got on?”

  “Sweatpants. They’re comfy. And since we’re on the topic, have you looked in a mirror recently? You’re Fright Night in the orangutan house at the zoo.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been on the run. I hocked the necklace I was wearing and bought a few things, but it’s not like I have access to my closet.”

  “How about combing your hair for starters.”

  “My hair would look just fine if you hadn’t shot my piece. And you should talk about hair. Has yours ever looked good?”

  “Morelli likes my hair. He says it has energy.”

  “If he’s so in love with your hair, why isn’t he here? As far as I can tell, you never even see him.”

  “He’s busy.”

  “Yeah, he’s busy with Marianne Mikulski.”

  I filled a mug with coffee and added milk. “He’s busy with his job.”

  “Sure he is. You keep on believing that.”

  “Marianne Mikulski is married.”

  “Marianne Mikulski is separated from her loser husband, and she’s on the hunt. Rumor has it she’s bagged your ex-boyfriend.”

  “Getting back to your departure from my apartment.”

  “I need the chest. I don’t want to believe the Panthers have it. The only other possible place it could be is in Frank’s house.”

  “Why would it be in his house?”

  “Maybe he brought it home for safekeeping after I got arrested. Or his wife could have taken it after he disappeared.”

  “Why would his wife take it?”

  “I don’t know. He could have told her about the Panthers. Or it could hold sentimental value for her.”

  “I can’t break into the house. The store was empty, and you knew the code. The house is too risky.”

  “Go in when no one’s home.”

  “When is that?”

  “Tomorrow. When they bury Frank.”