"This is bad," Lula said when we were on the highway. "That guy recognized you. He knew who you were. And it wasn't because he saw you in the lot just now, either. None of them saw us in the lot. That guy was no-shit evil, and he knew who you were."
I pushed it aside and concentrated on driving. I didn't want the fear to grab hold of me. Careful was good. Scared was counterproductive. I went a couple miles out of my way, but I was able to reach Pancek's house without running into Morelli.
Pancek's house was dark, and his car wasn't in sight. I slowly drove around several blocks looking for the car. Big zero. He could have stashed the car in a friend's garage, and he could be hiding in his dark house, but I didn't think that was the case. I suspected he'd gone to someone he trusted and was trying to get out of the cuffs.
I took Lula home, and then I went back to Ranger's apartment on Haywood Street. I parked the truck on a side street and walked the distance to the underground garage. I looked up at the building. Again, floors five and six were lit. I remoted myself through the security gate and scurried across the garage to the elevator. Ranger's Turbo and the Porsche Cayenne were still in place. A black Ford Explorer was parked on the side wall, plus a black GMC Sonoma was parked next to the SUV.
I stepped into the elevator, remoted myself up to the seventh floor, and held my breath. The elevator doors opened to the austere foyer, and I jumped out.
I listened at the door to Ranger's apartment, didn't hear anything, held my breath, and let myself in. Everything seemed just as I'd left it. Very calm. Temperature a little on the cool side. Dark—like Ranger. I flipped the lights on as I walked through the apartment. I said hello to Rex in the kitchen and set the grocery bags on the counter. I plugged my cell phone in to recharge, and I put the food away.
I wondered about floors five and six. For two nights now, they'd been lit. A variety of black cars were coming and going in the garage. So I was guessing floors five and six were offices. Although I suppose they could also be apartments. Either way I needed to be careful where I parked the truck and careful when I moved about the building.
I made a peanut and olive sandwich and washed it down with one of Ranger's Coronas. I shuffled off to the bedroom, dropped most of my clothes on the floor, went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and smell Ranger's soap, and then I crawled into bed.
It had been a really weird day. Not that I haven't had weird days before. Weird days were getting to feel normal. The disturbing part about this weird day was that there'd been steadily escalating indicators of personal danger. I'd done my best to stay sane, to keep my fear in check, but the fear was actually riding very close to the surface. I'd been involved in some scary situations in the past. This was the first time a contract to kill me had been put into motion.
EIGHT
I opened my eyes and had a moment of panicky confusion. The room was dark and felt unfamiliar. The sheets were smooth and smelled like Ranger. And then it all clicked into focus. Again, I was the one who smelled like Ranger. I'd washed my hands and face before bed and the scent had lingered.
I switched the bedside light on and checked the time. It was almost eight A.M. My day hadn't even started, and already I was late. It was the bed, I decided. It was the best bed I'd ever slept in. And, while I worried about Ranger returning, when I was in the apartment I felt safe from everything else. Ranger's apartment felt serene and secure.
I rolled out of bed and padded into the bathroom. It was Friday. Most people are happy on Friday because their workweek ends. I had the sort of job that never ended. Connie worked a half day on Saturday. Vinnie worked when he didn't have anything better to do. We weren't sure when Lula worked. And I worked all the time. Okay, so it wasn't always nine-to-five working. But it was always looking. Opportunities for capture popped up where you least expected—at supermarkets, airports, shopping malls, and movie theaters.
And while on the subject of movie theaters, if I was a better bounty hunter I could probably take weekends off. When you botch a capture, like I did last night, you have to work twice as hard to make repairs. Pancek knew what I looked like now. And he knew I was after him.
I'd had plenty of opportunity to buy shower gel yesterday, but I'd conveniently forgotten. So now I had to once again use Ranger's shower gel. What a hardship, eh? And then I had to dry off with one of his thick, superabsorbent towels. Another hardship I forced myself to endure. All right, I admit it, I was liking Ranger's lifestyle. And even more difficult to admit, I was liking the stolen intimacy. I was going to have to say a lot of Hail Marys for that one.
And I was going to pay a price when Ranger returned. Even if I was long gone by the time he walked through his front door, even if I washed and ironed his sheets and replaced his shower gel, Ranger would know his home had been violated. The guy was a security expert. Probably there were cameras everywhere. Not in his apartment, I was guessing. But chances were good that there were cameras in the garage, the elevator, and his outer foyer. No one had come up to bust me, so I had to assume that either the cameras weren't monitored or else Ranger had been contacted and was allowing me to stay.
I got dressed in sneakers and jeans and a stretchy white scoop-neck T-shirt. I swiped some mascara on my lashes, and I headed for the kitchen. I dropped a handful of Frosted Flakes into Rex's food dish, and I poured out a bowl for myself. I was late so I didn't take time to make coffee. I needed to stop at the office first thing. I'd get coffee there.
I unplugged my phone, grabbed my short denim jacket and shoulder bag, and locked up behind myself. I took the elevator to the garage, suffering through the moment of fear when the elevator doors parted and I was exposed. Even if I'd been discovered on camera, I wanted to delay confrontation as long as possible. No sense pushing the issue and jeopardizing my tenancy. I needed a place to stay, and I was already in trouble with Ranger. Might as well get the most out of it, right?
I looked out and saw no one. I stepped out, the doors closed behind me, and I heard voices in the stairwell.
Ranger's two cars were directly in front of me. There were three black SUVs to my right. And there was a blue Subaru SUV and a silver Audi sedan to my left. I made an instinctive choice and jumped behind the Subaru, crouching low, hoping I was out of sight. I didn't know who had access to the garage, but I figured Ranger's men would belong to the black SUVs.
The door to the stairwell opened, and Tank and two other men came out. All three got into one of the black SUVs and left the garage. I waited a couple beats before I scuttled across the floor, remoted the gate open, and made my escape.
* * *
The bonds office was on Hamilton, in the middle of the block. A one-lane alley ran behind the office, servicing a rear entrance and parking for two cars. I parked Ranger's truck on a side street, and I entered the office through the back door . . . just in case Morelli was on the prowl. I was in a mood to avoid the unpleasant.
"Uh oh," Lula said when she saw me. "It's never good when you gotta sneak in through the back."
I went straight for the coffeepot. "I'm being careful."
"I can appreciate that," Lula said. "What's the plan for the day?"
"I need a different car. I can't blend in when I drive Ranger's truck." To be more specific, I can't blend in when I park the truck for the night. Ranger's men were constantly traveling the streets around the Bat Garage. I didn't want to take a chance on one of them spotting the truck. "I was hoping you could follow me to my parents' house. I'm going to leave the truck in their garage. And then we can go car shopping."
"Car shopping! I love car shopping."
I added creamer and sipped some coffee. "You're not going to love this kind of car shopping. I have no money. I'm looking for a wreck." I turned to Connie. "And while we're on the subject of no money, as I'm sure you already know . . . Pancek ran off with my only cuffs."
"Lula told me. Take a pair from the S and M box in the back when you leave."
There used to be a thriving sex shop on Carmen Street. Rumor had it
they were the biggest supplier of dildos, whips, and body chains for the tristate area. Nine months ago, the owner decided he was tired of paying his insurance premium to the mob and told his collection agent to take a hike. Shortly after that, the store mysteriously burned to the ground. An entire crate of cuffs came out of the fire almost completely unscathed, and Vinnie bought the crate on the cheap.
"How come you're going to leave the truck at your parents' house?" Lula wanted to know. "Why don't you just give it back?"
"I thought I'd keep it a while longer, just in case. You never know when you might need a truck." And I can't get into Ranger's apartment if I hand the keys back to Tank.
"A couple new skips came in this morning," Connie said. "I'll get the paperwork together later today, and you can pick the files up tomorrow."
"I suppose after you get your new car you're going to want to go looking for Harold Pancek," Lula said.
"I suppose I am."
"And I suppose I should go with you since he's so slippery."
I looked at the stack of files on the filing cabinet. At least a month's worth. "What about the filing?"
"I can do the filing any old time. It's not like filing's a matter of life or death. I got good priorities. I take our friendship seriously. When you're going out on these dangerous manhunts I feel an obligation to ride along and protect your skinny ass. Just 'cause a man looks like SpongeBob doesn't mean he can't turn violent."
"You're pathetic," Connie said to Lula. "You'll do anything to get out of filing."
"Not anything," Lula said.
* * *
Ten minutes later, I had Ranger's truck safely tucked away in my parents' garage.
My dad had retrieved Uncle Sandor's Buick from the police and the Buick and Ranger's truck were now locked up together.
"What a nice surprise," Grandma said when she saw me at the kitchen door.
"I can't stay," I told Grandma and my mother. "I just wanted to tell you I'm leaving Ranger's truck in the garage."
"What about our car?" my mother wanted to know. "Where's your father going to park the LeSabre?"
"You never use the garage. The LeSabre is always parked in the driveway. Look outside. Where is the LeSabre? In the driveway. I had to drive around it to get to the garage."
My mother was cutting vegetables for soup. She stopped cutting and looked over at me, wide-eyed. "Holy mother. There's something wrong, isn't there? You're in trouble again."
"Did you steal the truck?" Grandma asked hopefully.
"I'm not in trouble, and there's nothing wrong. I told Ranger I'd take care of his truck while he's out of town. I was going to use it, but I've changed my mind. It's too big."
My mother didn't really want to know the truth, I told myself. The truth wasn't good.
"It is big," Grandma said. "And you know what they say about the size of a man's truck."
"I'm off," I said. "Lula's waiting for me."
Grandma trotted after me. She stopped at the front door and waved at Lula. "What are you girls doing?" Grandma asked. "Are you chasing down a killer?"
"Sorry," I said. "No killers today. I'm going car shopping. I need something to tide me over until I get the insurance check from the Escape."
"I'd love to go car shopping," Grandma said. "Wait a minute while I tell your mother and get my purse."
"No," I said. But she was already running around the house, gathering her things.
"Hey," Lula yelled from the curb. "What's the holdup?"
"Grandma's coming with us."
"The Three Musketeers ride again," Lula said.
Grandma bustled out of the house and climbed into the Firebirds backseat. "What have you got?" Grandma asked Lula. "You got 50 Cent? You got Eminem?"
Lula slid Eminem into the slot, punched up the sound system, and we motored off like distant thunder.
"I've been thinking about your car problem," Lula said, "and I know a guy who's got cars to sell. He don't ask a whole lot either."
"I don't know," I said. "If you buy a used car at a lot you usually get a guarantee."
"How much do you want to spend?" Lula asked.
"A couple hundred."
Lula slanted a look at me. "And you want a guarantee for that kind of money?"
She was right. A guarantee was unrealistic. In fact, it was unrealistic to think I could find a car that actually ran for that kind of money.
Lula hauled out her cell phone, scrolled through the phone book, and dialed a number. "I have a friend who needs a car," she said when the phone connected. "Un hunh," she said. "Un hunh, un hunh, un hunh." She turned to me. "Do you need a registration?"
"Yes!"
"Yeah," Lula said into the phone. "She'd like one of those."
"Isn't this fun," Grandma Mazur said from the backseat. "I can't wait to see your new car."
Lula disconnected, turned out of the Burg, and headed across town. When we got to Stark Street Lula hit the automatic door locks.
"Don't worry," Lula said. "I'm just locking the doors for good measure. We aren't going into the bad part of town. Well, okay, maybe it's a bad part of town, but it's not the worst part of town. We're not going into gangland. This here is the part of town where the unorganized criminals live."
Grandma had her nose pressed to the glass. "I've never seen anything like this," she said. "Everything's got writing on it. And there's a building that's been all burned out and now it's boarded up. Are we still in Trenton? Does the mayor know about this? How about Joe Juniak? Now that he's a congressman he should be looking into these things."
"I used to work on this street when I was a ho," Lula said.
"No kidding?" Grandma said. "Isn't that something. Are there any working ladies out now? I sure would like to see one."
We kept a lookout for working ladies but none turned up.
"Slow time of the day," Lula said.
Lula made a right onto Fisher, went one block, and parked in front of a narrow two-story house that looked like it was decaying from the bottom up. Clearly it had once been part of a row of attached houses, but the houses on either side had disappeared and only their connecting walls remained. The lots had been mostly cleared of debris, but the landscaping was war zone. An occasional piece of pipe remained, mixed into smatterings of crushed rubble that hadn't made the last truck out. A nine-foot-high razor wire fence had been erected around each of the lots. Refrigerators, washing machines, gas grills, lawn furniture, and a couple ATVs, all with varying degrees of rust, were displayed in the one lot. The second lot was filled with cars.
"These lots are owned by a guy named Hog," Lula said. "Besides the lots he's got a garage on the next block. He buys junker cars at auction, fixes them up enough to get them running, and then sells them to dummies like us. Sometimes he gets cars from other sources, but we don't want to talk about that."
"Those would be the cars without registration?" I asked.
"Hog can get a registration for any car you want," Lula said. "It's just you gotta pay extra for it."
Grandma was out of the Firebird. "Those lawn chairs with the yellow cushions look pretty nice," she said "I might have to take a look at them."
I jumped out after her and grabbed her by the purse strap. "Don't leave my side. Don't wander off. Don't talk to anyone."
A large guy with skin the color of hot chocolate and a body like a cement truck strolled over to us. "Lula tells me somebody wants to buy a car," he said. "You be happy to know you came to the right place because we got some fine cars here."
"We don't want too fine a car," Lula said. "We're sort of shopping for a bargain."
"How much of a bargain?"
"Two hundred dollars and that includes plates and registration."
"That don't even cover my overhead. I got expenses. I got middlemen."
"Your middlemen are all in jail," Lula said. "The only expenses you got is filling your car with gas so you can drive over to the workhouse to pick up your sorry-ass relatives."
&n
bsp; "Ouch," Hog said. "That's nasty. You're getting me all excited."
Lula gave him a smack on the side of the head.
"I love when you do that," Hog said.
"Do you have a car, or what?" Lula said. "Because we can go down the street to Greasy Louey."
" 'Course I got a car," Hog said. "Don't I always have a car? Have I ever failed you?" He looked at Grandma and me. "Which of you lovely ladies is buying this car?"
"Me," I said.
"What color you want?"
"A two-hundred-dollar color."
He turned and considered the motley collection of cars huddled together behind the razor wire. "Two hundred dollars don't get you much of a car. Maybe you be better to rent a car from Hog." He walked over to a silver Sentra. "I just got this car. It needs some body work, but it's structurally sound."
Needs some body work was a gross understatement. The hood was crumpled and attached to the car with duct tape. And the left rear quarter panel was missing.
"The thing is," I said to Hog, "I need a car that blends in. People would notice this car. They'd remember that they saw a car with only three fenders."
"Not in this neighborhood," Hog said. "We got lots of cars look like this."
"Look at her," Lula said. "She look like she gonna spend a lot of time in this neighborhood?"
"How about this car?" Grandma called out from across the lot. "I like this car."
She was standing in front of a purple Lincoln Town Car that was about a block long. It had terminal rust creeping up from the undercarriage, but the hood was attached in the normal fashion, and it had all its fenders.
"You could put a whole pack of killers in this car," Grandma said.
"I didn't hear that," Hog said. "Don't matter to me who you hang with."
"We don't hang with them. We arrest them," Grandma said. "My granddaughter's a bounty hunter. This here's Stephanie Plum," she said proudly. "She's famous."
"Oh crap," Hog said, eyes bugged out. "Are you shitting me? Get out of here. You think I want to die?" He craned his neck, looking beyond us, up and down the street. "Not only would the brothers like to get hold of her, I hear they brought someone special in from the coast." He scrambled behind a car, putting some distance between the two of us. "Go away. Shoo."
Plum 10 - Ten Big Ones Page 12