"We have to go through those stacks," Connie said, coming out of her chair. "And we might as well file them while we search. We're looking for Anton Ward, Shoshanna Brown, and Jamil Rodriguez."
An hour later, we had the documentation for all three skips, and we'd filed more than half of the outstanding cases.
The front door crashed open, and Lula marched in. "What's going on here?" she asked. "I miss anything?"
Connie and I gave Lula a cold ten-second stare.
"Yeah?" Lula asked.
"We just spent an hour doing your filing so we could find the paperwork on three new skips," Connie said.
"You didn't have to do that," Lula said. "I got a system."
"You weren't here," Connie said. "Where the hell were you? You were supposed to be here at nine."
"I'm never here at nine on Saturdays. I'm always late on Saturdays. Everybody knows that." Lula poured herself a cup of coffee. "Did you hear the news? I was listening to the radio on the way in and they said the Red Devil robbed the deli-mart on Commerce Street this morning. And he shot the clerk ten times in the head. That's a lot of times to get shot in the head."
The Red Devil again. Getting more bold. More ruthless. It seemed like years had passed since my Escape got fried and Eddie got shot. I dropped into my seat at the desk and added Connie's search information to the three files.
Shoshanna Brown was wanted for possession. She was a repeater. I'd picked Shoshanna up for priors, and I knew she wouldn't be hard to find. Probably she didn't have a ride to court.
Jamil Rodriguez was caught shoplifting a variety of electronics from Circuit City. When they searched him they found a loaded Clock, a box cutter, a sandwich bag filled with Ecstasy, and a human thumb in a sealed vial of formaldehyde. He claimed to have no knowledge of the thumb.
Anton Ward had a high bond. He'd gotten into a fight with his girlfriend and had stabbed her repeatedly with a steak knife. The girlfriend had lived, but she wasn't happy with Anton. Anton had made bail but had failed to show for court. He was nineteen with no priors. Or at least no priors as an adult. Vinnie had a notation on Ward's bond document that there were gang tattoos on Ward's arm. One of the tattoos was a paw print accompanied by the letters CSS. Ward was a Comstock Street Slayer.
I paged through the file, looking for the photo. The first photo was a profile. The second was full on. I saw the second photo and froze. Anton Ward was the Red Devil.
"You don't look too good," Lula said. "Are you okay? You look whiter than usual."
"This is the devil guy."
Connie grabbed the file. "Are you sure?"
"It's been five days, but I'm pretty sure that's him."
"I didn't give him to you when I ran the neighborhood check because I couldn't find him," Connie said. "I didn't have time to go through the stacks of unfiled folders."
"Oops," Lula said.
Connie looked through the folder and read from the computer search. "Anton Ward. Dropped out of high school when he was sixteen. No work history. Lives with his brother." She flipped to the bond document. "His bond was secured by someone named Francine Taylor. She put her house up as collateral. Vinnie has a note that the daughter, Lauralene, is very pregnant, very young, and expecting to marry Anton Ward." Connie handed the file back to me. "I hate to give this to you. Ordinarily this would go to Ranger."
"No problem," I said. "I'm turning it over to the police." Trenton PD didn't have the manpower to pursue every skip. This was fine by me because it meant my job was secure. Anton Ward would be different. He was involved in a cop shooting and a possible murder. Trenton PD would find the manpower to go after Anton Ward.
I called Morelli and told him about Ward.
"I don't want you anywhere near this guy," Morelli said.
I felt the muscles knot around my spine. Morelli's a cop. He's Italian, I told myself. He can't help himself. Cut him some slack.
"Could you rephrase that?" I asked Morelli. "I think what you meant was be careful."
"I said exactly what I meant. I don't want you anywhere near Anton Ward."
So here's the unfortunate truth. I called Morelli because I didn't want to go anywhere near Anton Ward. Problem is, when Morelli issues it as a demand my ears go flat against my head, my eyes narrow, and I take a stance with my head down, ready to lock horns. I don't know why I do this. I think it might have something to do with curly hair and being born in Jersey. And needless to say, this isn't the first time it's happened.
"And I suppose it's okay for you to go after him?" I said to Morelli.
"I'm a cop. We go after criminals. That's why you called me, right?"
"And I'm a fugitive apprehension agent."
"Don't take this the wrong way," Morelli said, "but you're not a great apprehension agent."
"I get the job done."
"You're a magnet for disaster."
"Okay, hotshot," I said. "I'll give you twenty-four hours to get him . . . and then he's mine."
I put my phone back into my bag and looked over at Lula.
"Guess you told him," Lula said. "If it was me I would have given him forever. To begin with, those people all live over in Slayerland. And if you want to think about something else, Anton hasn't got a lot to lose being that he just made Swiss cheese outta someone's head."
"I got carried away."
"No shit. And how are you expecting to find someone Morelli can't find? Morelli's good."
Morelli'd issued his ultimatum before I'd finished giving him all the information. "Morelli doesn't know about Lauralene Taylor. And, as we all know, the girlfriend is always the ticket to the skip."
"I'm hoping he don't need Lauralene on account of I don't want to have to follow your ass into Slayerland," Lula said.
I tucked the three new files into my bag. "Lauralene doesn't live in Slayerland. She lives on Hancock Street."
"Hey, that's my neighborhood," Lula said.
Lula leaned over me and sniffed. "Boy, that Ranger truck smell stays with you. You've been outa that truck for a whole day, and you still smell like Ranger." She took a step back. "There's something different about you. I can't put my finger on it."
"She's fat," Connie said.
Lula's face creased into a broad smile. "That's it. Look at those chubby cheeks and that bootie. And you got love handles that go all the way around. You go girl, you're on your way to being a big woman like Lula."
I looked down at myself. They were right! I had a roll of fat hanging over the waistband of my jeans. Where'd that come from? I was almost certain it wasn't there last night.
I ran into the bathroom and examined my face in the mirror. Definite chubbiness. Apple cheeks. Two chins. Shit. It was the stress. Stress released a hormone that made you fat, right? I was pretty sure I read that somewhere. I checked out my jeans again. I'd had a stomachache all morning. Now I knew why. I popped the top snap and felt some relief as more fat oozed out.
I went back to Lula and Connie. "It's the stress," I said. "It's releasing hormones that are making me fat."
"Good thing I brought doughnuts with me," Lula said. "Have one of the chocolate-covered cream-filled and you'll feel better. Don't want to let that stress grab hold of you."
* * *
Connie let me out the back door and locked up after me. We'd filed the remaining folders and eaten all the doughnuts. Connie was going to a baby shower at the fire-house this afternoon. Lula had a hair appointment. I was going to spend the day being careful.
I slipped out of the alley, wearing the hooded sweatshirt with the hood up, and I did a fast scan of the side street. No gang guys in baggy pants and do-rags waiting to gun me down. Good deal.
I cruised into the Burg, and I parked one street over from my parents' house. I walked head down around the block, cut through the Krezwickis' yard, and hopped the fence into my parents' backyard.
My mother shrieked when she saw me at the back door. "Holy mother," she said, hand over her heart. "I didn't recognize you at first.
What are you doing with the hood up on that sweatshirt? You look like a maniac."
"I was chilly."
She put her hand to my forehead. "Are you coming down with something? There's a lot of flu going around."
"I'm fine." I removed the sweatshirt and hung it over the back of a kitchen chair. "Where is everybody?"
"Your father's running errands. And Valerie took the girls shopping. Why?"
"Just making conversation."
"I thought maybe you were going to make a big announcement."
"What would I announce?"
"Its getting obvious," my mother said.
"Okay, so I've moved out of Morelli's house. Its not like it's the end of the world. We haven't even totally broken up this time. We're still talking to each other."
"You moved out? But aren't you pregnant?"
I was stunned. Pregnant? Me? I looked down at my belly. Yikes. I did look pregnant. I was on the pill, but I guess there could have been a slip-up. I did a fast calculation and stifled a sigh of relief. I wasn't pregnant.
"I'm not pregnant," I said.
"It's the doughnuts," Grandma said. "I know a doughnut butt when I see one."
I looked around for a knife. I was going to kill myself. "I've been under a lot of stress," I said.
"You could get that fat sucked out," Grandma said. "I saw a show on it last night. They showed a doctor sucking a whole load of fat out of some woman right on television. I almost threw up watching it."
The front door crashed open, and Mary Alice galloped in. Valerie followed with the baby. Angie followed Valerie.
Angie and Mary Alice immediately went to the television. Valerie brought the baby into the kitchen with her.
"Look who's here," Grandma said to Valerie. "Stephanie came early, and she's not even going to leave right away."
Valerie set the diaper bag on the floor and looked at me wide-eyed. "Oh my gosh," she said. "You're pregnant!"
"That's what we thought, too," Grandma said. "Turns out she's just fat."
"It's stress," I said. "I need to relax. Maybe I'm drinking too much coffee."
"I'm telling you, it's the doughnuts," Grandma said. "The Plum side of the family finally caught up with you. You don't watch out you're going to look like your Aunt Stella."
Stella had to have someone else tie her shoes.
"Your pants aren't buttoned," Mary Alice said to me as she galloped through. "Did you know that?"
Okay. Fine. I'll never eat again. Not ever. I'll drink water. But wait a minute, suppose the Junkman finds me and I get shot. I could end up on life support, and I could need the extra fat. Maybe the extra fat is a good thing. An act of God!
"What have we got for dessert?" I asked my mother.
"Chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream."
If God had wanted me to lose weight he would have made sure there was creamed spinach for dessert.
* * *
Albert Kloughn arrived at six o'clock sharp.
"I'm not late, am I?" he asked. "I was working, and I lost track of time. I'm sorry if I'm late."
"You're not late," my mother said. "You're just in time."
We all knew who was late. Joe. The pot roast and green beans and mashed potatoes were set on the table, and Joe's chair was empty. My father sliced up the roast and took the first piece. Grandma plopped a glob of potatoes onto her plate and passed right. My mother looked at her watch. No Morelli. Mary Alice made horse sounds with her tongue and galloped her fingers around her water glass.
"Gravy," my father said.
Everyone jumped to attention and passed him the gravy.
I had a plate heaped with meat and potatoes smothered in gravy. I had a buttered roll, four green beans, and a beer. I'd taken the food, but I hadn't yet dug in. I was having an inner dialogue with my stupid self. Eat it, the stupid self was saying. You need it to keep up your strength. And suppose you get run over by a truck tomorrow and die? What then? You'll have dieted for nothing. Eat and enjoy!
My mother was watching. "You're not that fat," she said. "I always thought you were too thin."
Kloughn picked his head up and looked around. "Who's fat? Am I fat? I know I'm a little roly-poly. I've always been like that."
"You're perfect, Snuggy Uggums," Valerie said.
Grandma knocked back her glass of wine and poured another.
A car door slammed shut at the curb, and everyone sat straight and still in their seat. A moment later, the front door opened, and Morelli walked in.
"Sorry I'm late," he said to my mother. "I was stuck at work." He moved next to me, dropped a friendly kiss on the top of my head, and took his seat.
There was a collective sigh of relief. My family feared Morelli was my last shot at marriage. Especially now that I was fat.
"What's new?" I asked Morelli.
"Nothing's new."
I made a show of looking at my watch.
"Don't push it," Morelli said softly, smiling for the family. "Are you still driving the truck? I didn't see it out front."
"It's in the garage."
"Are you really going after Ward?"
"It's my job."
Our eyes locked for a moment, and I felt the handcuff clamp around my left wrist.
"You've got to be kidding," I said, holding my wrist up for inspection, the remaining bracelet dangling loose.
"Private joke," Morelli said to the rest of the table. Then he clicked the other half of the cuffs onto his right wrist.
"Kinky," Grandma said.
"I can't eat like this," I told Morelli.
"You eat with your right hand, and I cuffed the left."
"I can't cut my meat. And besides, I have to go to the bathroom."
Morelli gave his head a single shake. "That is so lame," he said.
"I do," I said. "It's the beer."
"Okay," Morelli said. "I'll go with you."
Everyone sucked in some air. A piece of pot roast fell out of my father's mouth, and my mother's fork slipped from her fingers and clattered onto her plate. We weren't the sort of family who went to the bathroom together. We barely admitted to using the bathroom.
Morelli looked around the table and gave a small defeated sigh. He reached into his shirt pocket, extracted the key to the cuffs, and released me.
I popped out of my seat and ran upstairs to the bathroom. I locked the door, opened the window, and climbed out onto the roof over the back stoop. I'd used this escape route since junior high. I was good at it. I dangled myself off the roof, and I dropped to the ground.
Morelli grabbed me, spun me around, and trapped me against the back of the house. He leaned into me and grinned. "I knew you'd go out the window."
In a perverse way, I liked that Morelli had me figured out. It was reassuring to know he paid attention. "Very clever of you."
"Yep."
"Now what?"
"We go back to the table. And when dinner is over, we go home . . . together."
"And what happens in the morning?"
"We sleep late, read the Sunday paper, and take Bob for a walk in the park."
"And Monday?"
"I go to work, and you stay home and hide."
I did a major head slap. "Unh," I said.
His eyes narrowed. "What?"
"To begin with, I'm afraid to hide in your house. I'm afraid to hide in my apartment or in my parents' house. I don't want to endanger anyone, and I don't want to make it easy for the bad guys to find me. And if that isn't enough, I hate when you order me around. I'm in law enforcement, too. I'm key to this mess. We should be working together."
"Are you crazy? What did you have in mind? I should use you for bait?"
"Maybe not bait."
Morelli grabbed the front of my shirt, pulled me to him, and kissed me.
It was a great kiss, but I didn't know what the heck it meant. It seemed to me a breaking-up kiss would have had less tongue.
"So," I said, "do you want to explain that?"
"There's
no possible explanation. I am so messed up. You frustrate the shit out of me."
I knew the feeling. I was the mess-up queen. There was a contract on my head, and I was weirdly involved with two men. I didn't know which was more frightening.
"I'm going to take the cowards way out and leave," Morelli said. "That whole thing with the handcuffs got a little freaky. I should go back to work anyway. We have a twenty-four-hour watch on Ward's brothers house, so stay far away. I swear if I see you anywhere near there I'm going to have you arrested."
I did another eye roll and returned to the house. I was doing so many eye rolls these days I was getting head pains.
* * *
Sunday morning I took a good look at myself in the mirror in Ranger's bathroom. Not a pretty sight, I decided. The fat had to go. I showered and got dressed, borrowing a black T-shirt from Ranger. The T-shirt was nice and roomy and hid the fat roll.
It had been easy to find the T-shirt. It was perfectly folded and stacked on a shelf, along with twenty other perfectly folded black T-shirts. It had been easy to find the hooded sweatshirt I'd previously borrowed. The hooded sweatshirt had been perfectly folded and stacked on a shelf, along with six other perfectly folded black hooded sweatshirts. Doubly impressive because it's damn hard to perfectly fold a hooded sweatshirt. I counted thirteen black cargo pants, thirteen black jeans, thirteen perfectly ironed long-sleeved black shirts that matched the cargo pants. Black cashmere blazer, black leather jacket, black jeans jacket, three black suits, six black silk shirts, three lightweight black cashmere sweaters.
I started opening drawers. Black dress socks, black and dark gray sweat socks. Assorted black athletic clothes. There was a small safe and a locked drawer. I was guessing the locked drawer held guns.
None of this especially interested me. The ugly truth is, I'd finally lost the fight for dignity, and I was searching for Ranger's underwear. Not that I was going to do anything kinky with it. I just wanted to see what he wore. Hell, I thought I'd shown a lot of restraint to have gone this long without snooping.
I'd now searched the entire dressing room, and unless Ranger kept his underwear in his safe, it appeared to me that he went commando.
Plum 10 - Ten Big Ones Page 14