It was satisfying to have captured Ward, but I don't know if I'd classify the experience as fun. I dropped Lula at her Firebird, thanked her for her help, and then I went on to the police station. I would have preferred to crawl back to Ranger's apartment and let my mind go numb in front of his big-screen TV, but I had to make sure I was credited for the capture. And I had to pick up my body receipt.
The police station isn't in the high-rent part of town, and the public lot is across the street and unguarded. It was too late, too dark, and I was too worried to take a chance on the public lot, so I parked illegally in the lot reserved for cop cars. I had myself buzzed in through the back door, and I went directly to the desk. Ward was there, chained to a wooden bench, still naked. Someone had draped a towel over his lap.
"Hey, bitch," Ward said to me. "Want to take a peek under the towel? Take one last look at the big boy?"
Then he made slurpy kissy sounds at me.
I'd already seen more of the "big boy" than I wanted, and it wasn't that big or that fascinating. And the kissy sounds were really getting on my nerves. I kept my head down at the desk, waiting for my paperwork. I didn't want to see Morelli. I didn't know if he was in the building. If I got out before he found me, that would be cool. I figured time and space were my friends at this point.
There was a new cop behind the desk, going slow, making sure he was getting it right. I had a hard time not ripping the body receipt out of his hands.
"In a hurry?" he asked.
"Things to do."
I took the receipt from him, turned on my heel, and marched out of the building. I avoided eye contact with Ward, just in case the towel had slipped or, even worse, was moving. The back door closed behind me, and I shrieked when Morelli grabbed me and pulled me to one side.
"Jeez," I said, hand over my heart. "You scared the crap out of me. Don't sneak up on me like that." Although, truth is, I'm not sure I shrieked because I didn't know who it was or because I did know who it was.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I think I'm okay. I'm just having some heart palpitations. I have them a lot these days."
"Now that you've had a chance to see Ward up close, are you sure he's the Red Devil?"
"Yes."
"And he was in the car when Gazarra got shot?"
"Yes."
A patrol car pulled up to the back door for delivery. Morelli and I stood aside while two cops hauled Lauralene out of the backseat.
"What did she do?" I asked.
"Ran a red light in a stolen car, driving without a license."
Lauralene's eyes were red from crying.
"She's had a bad night," I said to Morelli. "And she's pregnant. Maybe you can talk to her. She looks like she could use a friend."
I called Francine and told her Ward had been captured. Then I told her Lauralene was at the cop shop.
"Now what?" Morelli said.
"I'm going home. Stick a fork in me, I'm done."
"And home is where?"
"It's a secret."
"I could find you if I put some energy to it," he said.
"I'd tell you if I thought I could trust you."
Morelli sent me a tight smile. He couldn't be trusted. We both knew it. He'd drag me out of my hiding place against my wishes if he thought it was the right thing to do.
"Do you need an escort out of here? Are you in public parking?"
"No, I'm illegally parked in the chiefs spot."
Morelli looked over at the reserved space. "The Lincoln? What happened to the truck?"
"Too high profile."
* * *
My cell phone rang at six forty-five Monday morning.
"Junkman tagged the second gang member on his list," Morelli said. "You don't want to know the details, but it took us less time to locate all the body parts this time since we knew where to look."
Not good information on an empty stomach.
I rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen to say good morning to Rex. I made coffee and drank it with my meager bowl of healthy, tasteless cereal. After two cups of coffee I still wasn't motivated to start my day, so I went back to bed.
The phone rang again at eight o'clock. It was Connie.
"You remembered about Carol Cantell, right?"
"Sure. What was I supposed to remember?"
"She's got court today."
Shit. I'd completely forgotten. "What's her court time?"
"She's supposed to be there at nine, but her case probably won't be heard until after lunch."
"Call her sister and have her go over to Carol's house. I'll pick Lula up at the office in a half hour."
No time for a shower. I borrowed a hat and another shirt from Ranger and pulled on my one remaining pair of clean jeans. I was in the elevator when I realized I'd buttoned the top snap on the jeans. Hooray. The diet was working. Good thing, too, because I was hating every minute of it and would love an excuse to quit.
I remoted the gate open and ran to the car. I was parking closer now that I was driving the Lincoln. Not as afraid of discovery by Ranger's men. I was on the cell phone at the first red light, calling Cantell.
"What?" she yelled into the phone. "What?"
"It's Stephanie Plum," I said, in my most reassuring, soothing voice. "How are things going?"
"I'm fat . . . that's how it's frigging going. I have nothing to wear. I look like a blimp."
"You remembered your court date?"
"I'm not going. I can't get into any of my clothes, and everyone's going to laugh at me. I ate a truckful of chips, for crying out loud."
"Lula and I are coming over to help. Just hang in there."
"Hurry up. I'm losing it. I need salt. I need grease. I need something crunchy in my mouth. I'm running a fever here."
* * *
Cindy was sitting on Carol's front porch when we drove up.
"She won't let me in," Cindy said. "I know she's in there. I can hear her pacing."
I rapped on the front door. "Carol, open the door. It's Stephanie."
"Have you got food?"
I crinkled a bag of Cheez Doodles so she could hear it through the door. "Lula and I stopped on the way over and bought Doodles to get you through the court session."
Carol cracked the door. "Let me see."
I shoved the Cheez Doodles at her. She grabbed the bag from me, ripped it open, and shoved a handful of doodles into her mouth.
"Oh yeah," she said, sounding a lot like Lowanda doing phone sex. "I feel better already."
"I thought you were over the doodle craving," Lula said.
"I'm not good with stress," Carol said. "It's a glandular thing."
"It's a mental thing," Lula said. "You're a nut."
We all followed Carol upstairs to her bedroom.
"I did my hair, and I put on my makeup, and then I went to get dressed, and I just sort of had a brain fart," Carol said.
We stood at the doorway and surveyed the disaster area. It looked like her closet exploded, and then her room was ransacked by monkeys.
"Guess you couldn't decide what to wear," Lula said, stepping over the clothes carnage that littered the floor.
"Nothing fits!" Carol wailed.
"Would have been good if you'd discovered that yesterday," Lula said. "You ever think of preparing ahead?"
I was picking through the crumpled piles of clothes on the floor, looking for slacks with elastic waistbands, bulky tops, scarves that matched. "Help me out here," I said. "Let's start with the slacks. Black would be good. Everything goes with black."
"Yeah, and it don't show the cellulite lumps," Lula said. "Black is real slimming."
Ten minutes later we had Carol squashed into black slacks. The button was open at the waist but you couldn't see it under the hip-length dark blue cotton shirt.
"Good thing you got this nice big roomy shirt," Lula said to Carol.
Carol looked down at it. "It's a nightgown."
"Do you have any roomy shirts that aren't nigh
tgowns?" I asked her.
"They all have doodle stains on them," she said. "It's hard to get those orange smudges out of stuff."
"You know what I think?" I said. "I think this outfit looks good. No one will know you're wearing a nightgown. It looks just like a shirt. And the color is good for you."
"Yeah," Lula and Cindy said. "The color is good."
"Okay," I said, "we're ready to go."
"I've got her purse and jacket," Cindy said.
"I've got a towel so she don't get doodle crumbs on herself on the way to the courthouse," Lula said.
"I can't do it!" Carol sobbed.
"Yes, you can," we all said. "You can do it."
"Hit me," Carol said. "I need a hit."
I gave her a new bag of Cheez Doodles. She tore the bag open and scarfed a handful of doodles.
"You gotta pace yourself," Lula said to Carol. "You got a long day ahead of you, and you don't want to run out of doodles."
Carol clutched the bag to her chest and we nudged her forward, down the stairs, out to the car.
* * *
I got Carol Cantell settled in at the courthouse and then I left. Lula and Cindy were with Cantell. Cindy had four unopened bags of doodles. Lula had cuffs and a stun gun. They promised to call me if a problem developed.
I would have stayed with Cantell to see how things turned out but I was feeling grungy. I needed a shower. And I needed to put distance between me and the Cheez Doodles. Ten more minutes with Cantell and I would have wrestled her for the remaining bags.
I drove past Ranger's building, but there was too much activity to chance a run for the elevator. So, what are the alternative shower and lunch possibilities? Morelli's house was one alternative. I had a key to the house, and I still had some clothes there. Convenient but not smart, I thought. Not a good time to return. Too many unresolved issues. And Junkman could be watching the house.
Better to go to my parents' house. It was easier to sneak in through the back, and I could feel relatively confident that I wasn't seen.
ELEVEN
It was close to noon when I cruised into the Burg. Sally's bus was parked in front of my parents' house, and my father's car was missing from the driveway. Probably there was a big wedding discussion going on, and my father was hiding out at the Elks Lodge.
On first pass I didn't see any Slayers with boom boxes or automatic weapons. Of course, if someone was skinny enough he could be crouched behind Mrs. Ciak's hydrangea bush. I thought better safe than sorry, and I did my Saturday night routine, driving halfway around the block to park. I had the sweatshirt on again with the hood up. I locked the Lincoln, and once again, I cut through the Krezwickis' yard.
I didn't want my mother to do another freak-out, so I took the sweatshirt off before I opened the back door.
Sally, Valerie with the baby, my mother, and Grandma Mazur were at the kitchen table.
"You're hiding from someone, aren't you?" my mother said to me. "That's why you keep sneaking in the back."
"She's hiding from them gang members who want to kill her," Grandma said. "Does anyone want that last piece of cake?"
"That's ridiculous," my mother said. "We don't have gangs in Trenton."
"Wake up and smell the coffee," Grandma said. "We got Bloods and Craps and Latin Queens. And that's just to name a few."
"I was in a rush this morning, and I didn't have time to take a shower," I said to my mother. "Is it okay if I shower here?"
"Of course it's okay," my mother said. "Did you really break up with Joseph again?"
"I moved out of his house. I'm not sure how broken up we are."
My mother went still, radar humming. "If you're not living with Joseph, where are you living?"
This got everyone's attention.
"I'm staying in a friend's apartment," I said.
"What friend?"
"I can't say. It's . . . a secret."
"Omigod," my mother said. "You're having an affair with a married man."
"I'm not!"
"Isn't that something," Grandma said.
Sally snapped the band on his wrist.
"What was that for?" Grandma asked.
"I thought a really bad word," Sally said.
Yeesh. "I'm not going to discuss this," I told everyone. "This is stupid." And I flounced off to take a shower.
An hour later, I was showered and shampooed, and I was peering into my mother's refrigerator. I didn't have nearly so much blubber hanging over the waistband of my jeans today. Amazing how the fat disappears when you stop eating. The downside was that I felt mean as a snake.
"What are you looking for?" my mother wanted to know. "You've been standing there with the door open for ten minutes."
"I'm looking for something that won't make me fat."
"You're not fat," my mother said. "You shouldn't worry."
"She's got to be careful of the Plum side of the family," Grandma said. "This is when it starts. Remember how Violet was always so thin? Then she hit her thirties and ballooned up. Now she has to buy two seats when she gets on an airplane."
"I don't know what to eat!" I said, arms flapping. "I've never had to worry about weight before. What the hell am I supposed to friggin' eat?"
"Depends what kind of diet you're doing," Grandma said. "Are you doing Weight Watchers, Atkins, South Beach, The Zone, The Slime Diet, The Sex Diet? I like the Slime Diet, myself. That's where you're only allowed to eat things that got slime . . . like oysters and slugs and raw bull's balls. I was going to try the Sex Diet, but I couldn't figure out some of the rules. Every time you get hungry you're supposed to have sex. Only thing is, they didn't say what kind of sex you're supposed to have. Like, whether you should have it alone or with someone else. And what about that oral sex stuff? I never did a lot of that personally. Your grandfather wasn't much for experimenting," Grandma said to me.
My mother went to the cupboard, poured herself a tumbler of whiskey, and chugged it.
"So what kind of diet are you on?" Grandma asked me.
"I'm on the Tastykake diet," I said, helping myself to a Butterscotch Krimpet.
"Good for you," Grandma said. "That's a good choice."
"I'm going back to work," I told everyone, putting my hood up, ducking out the back door.
Mrs. Krezwicki was at her kitchen window when I scuttled through her yard. She leveled a gun at me, sighting with one eye. I pushed the hood back and waved, and she lowered the gun and reached for the wall phone. Calling my mother, no doubt.
I got into the Lincoln and drove to the office.
"I heard from Lula at the courthouse," Connie said. "Cantrell's doing okay."
"How about Ranger? Have you heard from Ranger?"
"Not a word."
Rats. He wasn't supposed to be back for at least another week, but I didn't want to take any chances on being caught in his bed. Or even worse, in his shower!
Connie's eyes fixed on my hat. "That looks like Ranger's hat."
"He gave it to me." It was a perfectly good fib. If he gave me his truck, why not his hat?
Connie looked like she bought it.
"I wish Ranger would get his butt back here," Connie said. "I'm not happy about you going after Rodriguez. What kind of a person would carry a thumb around with him?"
"A crazy person?"
"It's creepy. If you want, I can call Tank to go with you."
"No!" Last time I went out with Tank he broke his leg. Then his substitute got a concussion. I was hell on Ranger's Merry Men. Bad enough I was squatting in his apartment, I didn't want to compound the damage by wiping out his workforce. And if I was being totally honest, I'd have to admit that time spent with Tank was uncomfortable. Tank was Ranger's right-hand man. He was the guy who watched Ranger's back. He was entirely trustworthy, but he rarely spoke, and he never shared his thoughts. I'd reached a sort of telepathic state with Ranger. I hadn't a clue what was in Tank's mind. Maybe nothing at all.
"I'm a lot more worried about Junkman than
I am about Rodriguez," I said to Connie.
"Have you seen Junkman?"
"No."
"Do you know what he looks like?"
"No."
"Do you know why you're on his list?
"Does there have to be a reason?"
"There's usually a reason," Connie said.
"I can identify Ward as the Red Devil, and I bounced Eugene Brown off my Buick."
"That could be it," Connie said. "Or it could be something else."
"Like what?"
Connie shrugged. "I don't know gangs, but I know something about the mob. Usually when someone's targeted for takeout, it's about power . . . keeping it or getting it."
"How does that relate to me?"
"If it's an entire gang that's out to get you, you move far away. If it's only one member, you can eliminate the problem by eliminating the member."
"Are you suggesting I kill Junkman?"
"I'm suggesting you try to find out why Junkman has you on his list."
"I'd have to penetrate the Slayers."
"You'd have to catch one and make him talk to you," Connie said.
Catch a Slayer. It sounded like a kid's game.
"You could hide out until Ranger gets back," Connie said.
What she meant was, I could hide out until Ranger gets back and eliminates Junkman for me. Ranger was good at solving problems like that. And it was tempting to let him solve mine, but that's not the sort of thing you do to someone you like. That's not even the sort of thing you do to someone you hate. Not when the problem is solved by murder.
I'd already been there, and it didn't feel great. I was pretty sure Ranger had once killed a man to protect me. The man had been insane and determined to end my life. His death had been ruled a suicide, but in my heart, I knew Ranger had stepped in and done the job. And I knew there'd been an unspoken agreement between Ranger and Morelli. Don't ask, don't tell.
Morelli was a cop, sworn to uphold the law. Ranger had his own set of laws. There were things that fell in the gray zone between Morelli and Ranger. Things Ranger was willing to do if he felt it necessary. Things Morelli could never justify.
"I'll think about it," I told Connie. "Let me know if you hear from Ranger."
Plum 10 - Ten Big Ones Page 16