Plum 10 - Ten Big Ones

by Janet Evanovich

  "Shoo?" Lula said. "Did I hear you say shoo?"

  "Some Slayer ride by here I be a dead man," Hog said. "Get her off my lot."

  "We came here to buy a car, and that's what we're gonna do," Lula said.

  "Fine. Take a car," Hog said. "Take anything. Just go away."

  "We want this pretty purple car," Grandma said.

  Hog gave Grandma another of the bug-eyed looks. "Lady, that's an expensive car. That's a Lincoln Town Car. That's no two-hundred-dollar car!"

  "We wouldn't want to cheat you," Lula said. "So we'll just wander around awhile and see if we like something less expensive."

  "No. Don't do that," Hog said. "Take the friggin' Lincoln. I got the keys in the house. I'll just be a minute."

  "Don't forget the plates and the registration," Lula said.

  Five minutes later, I had a temporary plate taped to my rearview window, Grandma was strapped into the passenger seat, and Lula was a car length ahead of us, en route back to the office.

  "I feel like a movie star in this car," Grandma said. "It's like a big limousine. Not everybody can afford a car like this, you know. It must have belonged to somebody special."

  A gangster or a pimp, I thought.

  "And it rides real smooth," Grandma said.

  I had to admit the ride was smooth. The car was about the same size as Sally's bus and took two lanes to make a corner, but the ride was smooth.

  Lula and I parked in front of the bonds office, and we all got out to reorganize.

  "Now what?" Lula said. "Are we going after Harold Pancek?"

  "Yeah," Grandma said. "Are we going after Harold Pancek?"

  "Lula and I are going after Harold Pancek," I said. "I should take you home first."

  "No way! What if you need an old lady to quiet him down?"

  My mother would cut me off from pineapple upside-down cake for the rest of my life if she knew I took Grandma on a bust. Then again, I'd just driven Grandma down Stark Street, so I was most likely screwed already.

  "Okay," I said. "You can go with us, but you have to stay in the car."

  I felt obligated to say this but it was an empty demand because Grandma never stayed in the car. Grandma was always the first out of the car. I was taking her along because I really didn't think we were going to find Pancek at home. Pancek had been here for a couple years but hadn't seemed to put down roots. According to Connies background search, Pancek's relatives and longtime friends were in Newark. I was guessing that after last night Pancek skipped back to Newark.

  A gray late-model sedan drove by, hooked a U-turn in the middle of traffic, and parked behind the purple Lincoln. Morelli.

  "Uh oh," Lula said to me. "You got that look."

  "What look is that?"

  "That oh shit look. That's not a look from a woman who got some last night."

  "Its complicated."

  "I've been hearing that a lot lately," Lula said.

  Morelli got out of the car and walked over, looking like a cop who'd just gotten rear-ended. The anger was tightly controlled, and the gait was deceptively relaxed.

  "Isn't this a nice coincidence," Grandma said to Morelli. "I didn't expect to see you until tomorrow night."

  Neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow, nor shoe sale at Macy's could get me out of Saturday dinner with my parents. Like a spawning salmon, I was expected to return to my birthplace. Unlike a salmon, I didn't die, although sometimes I wished I could, and the migration took place weekly.

  "I need to talk to Stephanie," Morelli said with his best effort at a pleasant smile, his hand at my neck, his fingers curled into the back of my shirt to discourage escape.

  "Gee, we were right in the middle of something," I said. "Can it wait?"

  "Afraid not," Morelli said. "We need to talk now."

  I followed him to his car, and we stood with our backs to Lula and Grandma to keep them from eavesdropping.

  "Gotcha," Morelli said.

  "Now what?"

  "Now I take you back to my house and lock you in the bathroom. If you're real nice to me, I'll bring the television in for you."

  "You're not serious."

  "About the television? Afraid not, I've only got one, and I'm not lugging it up the stairs."

  I gave him one of those looks that said get real.

  "There's a contract on you," Morelli said, "and I ride by and see you standing here like a duck in a shooting gallery. A dead girlfriend doesn't do me much good."

  Well, at least he thought I was still his girlfriend. "I was hoping the contract was just rumor."

  "My sources tell me there's a guy in town from L.A. He goes by the street name Junkman, and it's widely believed he was brought in by the Slayers to take you out. From all reports, this is a very bad guy. Lots of talk about him. Virtually no useable information. At this point, we don't even have a description."

  "How do you know he's real?"

  "The sources are good. And the brothers on the street are scared. Just so you don't feel too special, it appears you aren't the only one on his list. It's said to include a cop and two rival gang members."

  "Who's the cop?"

  "Someone in gang intelligence. We don't have a name."

  "I think it's sweet of you to want to lock me in your bathroom, but it doesn't fit into my plans. And last time I was in your house we had a major disagreement over all this."

  Morelli ran a fingertip around the scoop neckline of my T-shirt. "First of all, it wasn't much of a disagreement. A disagreement in my family involves restraining orders and bloodshed. Second, I like this little white T-shirt." He hooked a finger into the neckline and looked inside.

  "Excuse me?" I said.

  "Just checking." More of the smile.

  "You wouldn't really lock me in your bathroom, would you?"

  "Yep."

  "That might be considered kidnapping."

  "Your word against mine."

  "And it's disgustingly arrogant and macho."

  "Yeah," Morelli said. "That's the best part."

  I looked back at Grandma and Lula. "How do you expect to accomplish this?"

  "I thought I'd drag you into my car and carry you kicking and screaming into my house."

  "In front of Grandma and Lula?"

  "No," Morelli said. "I can't do it in front of your grandmother." The smile faded. "Can we get serious? This isn't just rumor. These guys are out to get you."

  "What am I supposed to do? I live here. I can't go into hiding for the rest of my life."

  Morelli's pager buzzed, and he looked at the readout. "I hate this thing," he said. "You're going to be careful?"

  "Yes."

  "You're going to get off the street?"

  "Yes."

  He gave me a fast kiss on the forehead and took off.

  Grandma and Lula watched Morelli drive away.

  "I don't usually like cops," Lula said, "but he's hot."

  "He's a looker all right," Grandma said. "And he's got a way about him. There's nothing like a man with a gun."

  "He don't get his way from a gun," Lula said. "His way is natural born."

  I did some mental knuckle cracking and sidled up to the big purple Lincoln, hoping it would shield me from potential sniper fire. Morelli had done a good job of rattling my nerves. Stating the obvious to Morelli, that I lived in Trenton and couldn't hide for the rest of my life, wasn't a declaration made from bravery. It was a declaration tinged with desperation and maybe even a little hysteria. I was backed into a corner, the victim of circumstances. And I was at a loss how to fix it.

  The best I could come up with on short notice was a temporary survival plan. Hide out in Ranger's apartment at night. Search for Pancek by day. The Pancek search was a good thing because I suspected after our initial trip to Canter Street, the search would shift to Newark, far away from the Slayers.

  "Everybody in the car," I said. "We're going on a Harold hunt."

  * * *

  I docked the Lincoln in front of Pancek's row house
, and we all got out and stood on the stoop while I rang the bell. There was no answer, of course. I rang again. I dialed his number on my cell phone. We could hear the phone ring on the other side of the door. The machine picked up. I left a message.

  "Hi, this is Stephanie Plum," I said. "I need to talk to you." I left my cell number and disconnected.

  I tried Pancek's next-door neighbor.

  "He left early this morning," she said. "Must have been around seven. I went out to get the paper, and he was loading up his car. Usually you take grocery bags into the house, but he was taking them out."

  "Did he say anything?"

  "No. But that wasn't unusual. He's sort of an odd guy. Not real friendly. Lived in there all alone. I never saw anyone else go in. Guess he didn't have a lot of friends."

  I left my card with her, and I asked her to call if Pancek returned.

  "Now what?" Grandma wanted to know. "I'm ready to catch this guy. Where do we go next?"

  "Newark. His family is in Newark."

  "I don't know if I can go with you," Grandma said. "I'm supposed to go to the mall with Midgie Herrel at one o'clock."

  * * *

  I took Route 1 to Route 18 and got on the Jersey Turnpike. Grandma was home, waiting for Midgie. Sally, Valerie, and my mom were busy planning the wedding. Lula was sailing along with me in the purple Lincoln, riding shotgun, nosing through a big bag of food we bought before leaving Trenton.

  "What do you want first?" she asked. "You want a sandwich or a Tastykake?"

  "The sandwich." We had about forty Tastykakes. We couldn't chose which kind we wanted, so we got a bunch of everything. I have a cousin who works at the Tastykake factory in Philadelphia, and she said they make 439,000 Butterscotch Krimpets a day. I intended to eat three of them when I was done with the sub. And maybe I'd follow them up with a coconut layer cake. It's important to keep your strength up on a manhunt.

  By the time we got to Newark, Lula and I had almost emptied the food bag. My jeans were feeling unusually tight and my stomach felt seasick. I suspected the queasy stomach was more fear of death than overeating. Still, it would have been good if I'd stopped after the third Tastykake.

  Pancek's mother had posted the bond. I had her address plus the address of Pancek's former apartment. I knew Pancek drove a dark blue Honda Civic, and I had his plate number. It would be nice to find the Civic parked in front of one of the addresses.

  Lula was reading a map, directing me through Newark. "Turn left at the next corner," she said. "His momma's house is on the first block, two houses in on the right side."

  NINE

  Lula and I were in a neighborhood that looked a lot like parts of the Burg. The homes were modest redbrick row houses, their front stoops set into sidewalk. Cars were parked on both sides, narrowing the street to barely two lanes. It was early afternoon and not much was happening. We drove past Pancek's mothers house, looking for the Civic. We did a four-block grid but came up empty.

  By late afternoon we'd talked to Pancek's mother, two former neighbors, his former girlfriend, and his best buddy from high school. No one was giving Pancek up, and we hadn't run across his car.

  "We're all out of Tastykakes," Lula said. "It's either time to go home or time to go shopping."

  "Time to go home," I said.

  Pancek's best buddy was married, and I couldn't see the wife putting up with Pancek. The girlfriend thought Pancek should rot in hell. That was a direct quote. His neighbors barely knew him. That left his mother. I had a feeling Mrs. Pancek knew more than she was telling us, but from todays performance it was obvious she wasn't ready to rat on her son.

  We'd run down all our leads, and there wasn't anything left to do short of staking out the mothers house. I was all in favor of a job well done, but Pancek wasn't worth a stakeout. A stakeout was a major bummer.

  Morelli called on my cell phone. He didn't waste time with hello or how are you. Morelli got right to the heart of it. "Where are you?"

  "I'm in Newark, looking for a skip."

  "I don't suppose you'd consider staying there. Maybe getting a room."

  "What's up?"

  "We have a dead guy here. Gunned down on the street, and then had his nuts surgically removed."

  "Gang member?"

  "Big time. Cut. Had a J freshly carved into his forehead."

  "Would that be J for Junkman?"

  "That would be my guess," Morelli said. "Are you scared yet?"

  "I'm always scared."

  "Good. I'm drinking Pepto-Bismol by the case. I hate this. Every time my pager goes off I get an eye twitch, terrified that someone found your body."

  "At least we don't have to worry about me getting my nuts surgically removed."

  There was a moment of silence. "That's sick," Morelli finally said.

  "I was shooting for levity."

  "You failed." And he disconnected.

  I told Lula about the killing, and we went in search of the turnpike.

  "These gang guys are crazy," Lula said. "Its like they're alien invaders, or something. Like they don't know how to live on planet Earth. Hell, they're not even hot aliens. Not that it would matter, but if they were hot looking they'd at least be interesting, you see what I'm saying?"

  I wasn't seeing what she was saying. I was taking slow, even breaths, and I was working at controlling my heart rate.

  I dropped Lula off at the office, and I drove to Ranger's building. I could see someone in the lobby, talking to the guard at the desk. A car pulled out of the garage, and the gate slid back into place. Too much activity, I thought. Too early for me to sneak inside.

  I parked halfway down the block, and I watched the people coming and going. I called Connie, gave her the Haywood Street address, and asked her to check on the building.

  "That's Ranger's building," Connie said.

  "You know about it?"

  "The RangeMan offices are there. Ranger moved his business into that building about a year ago."

  "I didn't know."

  "Well, it's not like it's the Bat Cave," Connie said. "It's an office building."

  So what was with the top-floor apartment? It was filled with Ranger's clothes. Clearly he lived there at least part-time. I was disappointed, and I was relieved. I was disappointed because I hadn't discovered some big secret place. And I was relieved because maybe I hadn't invaded Ranger's private space. The relief was unwarranted, of course. His clothes were there. His shower gel, his deodorant, his razor was there. It might not be the Bat Cave, but it was Ranger's private space.

  "Anything else?" Connie wanted to know.

  "Nope," I said. "That was it. See you tomorrow."

  By seven o'clock the building looked just about empty. The fifth and sixth floors were lit, but the lobby door appeared locked, and garage traffic seemed to have stopped. I locked the Lincoln, walked the short distance to the garage, and let myself into Ranger's apartment.

  I dropped my keys into the dish on the sideboard and went to the kitchen to say hello to Rex. I had a beer and a peanut butter sandwich, and I moved to the den to take another crack at the television. After ten minutes of pushing buttons on the remote I had the picture up but no sound. I went to school with a guy who owned an appliance store. I called him at the store, and he gave me a remote lesson. Hooray, now I could watch and hear television. Home sweet home.

  * * *

  I'd set the alarm on the bedside clock, so I could get out earlier in the morning. It was Saturday, but I suspected the security industry didn't slow for weekends, and I didn't want to take a chance on getting Jacked out of the one place I felt safe.

  I borrowed a black hooded sweatshirt from Ranger's closet. The sweatshirt was miles big, but it was the best I could do by way of disguise. I pulled the hood up, rode the elevator down, and I reached the Lincoln without a problem. Connie wouldn't be in the office for a couple hours, so I crossed the river into Pennsylvania and headed for Yardley. Yardley was just a short distance from Trenton, but it was light
years from Slayerland. Junkman would not be patrolling Yardley looking for Stephanie Plum.

  I parked in a public lot, locked my doors, and powered my seat back. It was 7:30 A.M., and Yardley was sleeping in.

  I called Morelli at nine o'clock. "What are you doing?" I asked.

  "Bob and I are at the car wash. Then we're going to Petco to get some dog food. It's a pretty exciting morning."

  "I can hear that. Anything new going on?"

  "Nothing you want to know about. I hope you're some place far away."

  "Far enough. I'll be on my cell phone if you have breaking news. And don't forget, my mother's expecting us to show up for dinner tonight."

  "You're going to have to pay up, Cupcake. I don't do dinner without reimbursement."

  "I'll run a tab for you." And I disconnected.

  Truth is, I missed Morelli. He was sexy and smart and his house felt homey. His house didn't have the aphrodisiac shower gel, but it had Bob. I really missed Bob. Go figure that one. Okay, so I had to carry his poop in a plastic bag back to the house. It didn't seem like such a big deal anymore.

  I left the lot and cruised through town. I turned onto Hamilton, drove past the office, and parked on a side street. Then I entered the office through the back door.

  Connie looked up from her computer when I walked in. "Using the back door again?"

  "I'm trying to decrease my visibility."

  "Good call."

  Vinnie rarely came in on a Saturday, and Lula was always late. I poured myself a cup of coffee, and took a seat across from Connie. "Any new shootings, firebombings, rumors of my imminent death?"

  "Nothing new." Connie slid the mouse across the mouse pad and clicked. "I've got three new skips. I'm printing out the search results for you now. The original paperwork is somewhere in the mess of unfiled documents stacked on the cabinets."

  Oh boy. Lula hadn't filed anything in so long there were more files on top of the cabinets than there were in the drawers.