Tricky Twenty-Two: A Stephanie Plum Novel

by Janet Evanovich

  “I’d appreciate it if you would come downtown to give a statement,” Bell said.

  “I’ve been run over by a van, stun gunned at least twice, injected with some sort of narcotic, and there’s a good chance I’ve got bubonic plague,” I said. “Today isn’t a good day.”

  “Yeah, I can see that,” Bell said. “It’ll wait.”

  Ranger moved me out of the building, and one of his men drove up with the 911 Turbo. Ranger took over behind the wheel, and we left the hospital grounds.

  “I’m going to take you home with me,” Ranger said. “I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone in your apartment tonight.”

  This was perfect. I didn’t want to be alone in my apartment. I was exhausted and scared and my elbow was killing me. There would be food in Ranger’s kitchen and silky soft sheets on his bed. The air would be cool and clean and not smell like dead mice soaked in plague blood. And I’d have Ranger next to me making me feel warm and safe.

  “I’d love to stay at Rangeman tonight,” I said, “but I might not be up to a lot of romantic stuff.”

  “That works for me,” Ranger said. “Nothing personal, but I’d rather not exchange any bodily fluids until I do more research on the plague.”

  He called ahead to tell his executive housekeeper, Ella, we were on our way home, and I would be spending the night, and that I needed some necessities. Ella and her husband manage the building and food service. Ella knows me, and she knows my sizes. She outfits everyone at Rangeman, and that’s included me on the occasion when I’ve worked in uniform for Ranger. Everything from shoes to underwear to jeans and a shirt would be waiting for me in the morning if not sooner.

  By the time we got to Ranger’s apartment on the top floor of the Rangeman building, my knee was scabbing over, and I was barely able to bend my leg. I was anxious to get out of my bloodstained clothes, so I borrowed a T-shirt and sweatpants from Ranger and hobbled into his bathroom.

  I stood in his Zen shower until I felt clean again and the sick odor of Pooka and his house was out of my head. I washed my hair with Ranger’s Bulgari shampoo, and carefully patted my scraped and bruised body dry with one of his fluffy bath towels. I found some big Band-Aids in his bathroom linen closet and patched myself up. I pulled the sweatpants on and cinched in the drawstring. I dropped the nice comfy too-big T-shirt over my head. I was a new woman.

  I padded barefoot to the kitchen and wrangled myself onto a counter stool.

  “Wine,” I said. “I need a glass of wine. White and cold.”

  Ranger took a bottle out of his under-the-counter wine cooler and uncorked it. He poured out two glasses, gave me one, and kept one for himself.

  He clinked my glass. “To Wonder Woman,” he said. “I’m impressed. You didn’t need me to rescue you today.”

  “No, but I’m glad you did.”

  We drank some wine, and Ella knocked on the front door and came into the kitchen with a tray of food. Bread basket, New Zealand lamb racks, herbed vegetables cooked al dente, and fresh fruit for dessert. She set the tray on the counter and handed a shopping bag to me.

  “Let me know if this isn’t right,” she said to me.

  I looked in the bag. Black Pilates pants, black T-shirt, black undies, black Converse sneakers.

  “Perfect,” I said. “This is really nice. Thank you.”

  She smiled and a little color came into her cheeks. “You’re the only lady who visits,” she said. “I enjoy doing the shopping.”

  Ella left, and we ate in silence until I pushed my plate away.

  “That was delicious,” I said.

  Ranger stood and moved the plates from the counter to the sink. “Ella brought fruit, but I have ice cream in the freezer.”

  “Yes! Ice cream.”

  I used Ranger’s phone to call Gobbles.

  “I found Becker,” I said.

  “I know,” Gobbles said. “I just got off the phone with him. He sounded weak. He said he was worried he had the plague.”

  “I’m sure they’re doing tests and giving him antibiotics. He’s not showing any symptoms, so if he has been infected it’s in an early stage.”

  I was saying this as much to reassure myself as to reassure Gobbles. I needed to believe I’d be okay. I didn’t want to think for a single moment that I might die from the plague.

  “Now that Becker is safe we need to get you back into the system,” I told Gobbles. “If I take you in tomorrow morning there’s a good chance that we can get you rebonded and released by the afternoon.”

  “Sure,” Gobbles said. “Should I go to the courthouse or do you want to pick me up someplace?”

  “I’ll pick you up at Julie’s house tomorrow at ten o’clock.”

  I disconnected with Gobbles and Ranger gave me a bowl of ice cream.

  “You should call Morelli,” Ranger said. “I’m sure he’s thinking he picked a bad day for a colonoscopy.”

  “Is there ever a good day?”

  Ranger selected a slice of apple from his fruit plate. “Not on my calendar.”

  I called Morelli’s home number and cell number and he didn’t pick up either. I left a message on both telling him I was fine and with Ranger for the night.

  “Babe,” Ranger said, “that’s not a reassuring message. If I were Morelli and I just had a colonoscopy, I’m not sure I’d want to know you were spending the night with me.”

  “We aren’t exactly a couple anymore.”

  “Had me fooled,” Ranger said.

  I finished my ice cream and could barely keep my eyes open.

  “I’m done,” I said to Ranger. “I’m going to bed.”

  “I have paperwork to do, and I need to check on some things downstairs,” Ranger said. “I’ll be in later.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  I FELT RANGER leave the bed, and I looked at the time. Five-thirty. Ranger’s day started early. I heard the shower running, and I drifted back to sleep.

  It was a little after eight o’clock when I finally made my way to the kitchen in my new clothes. The Pilates pants had been a good choice. The material was soft and stretchy over my scabbed-up knee. A decanter of coffee, a bagel and cheese plate, and fresh fruit had been set out on the counter for me. The coffee was still hot. I helped myself to breakfast and found a note from Ranger telling me the Macan was in the garage and the key was in the glove compartment, and that Lula had my messenger bag. The note had been propped up against the little plastic container of antibiotics I’d gotten at the hospital.

  I took one of the pills and washed it down with coffee. I brushed my teeth and tried to ignore the large scrape on my face. It’s just skin, I told myself. It’ll grow back. And besides, it takes the attention away from the pimple that’s almost all gone.

  I took the elevator to the control room and went to Ranger’s office.

  “I’m heading out,” I told him. “I had breakfast, and I took my pill. I’m set for the day.”

  “Seeing you in those pants makes me wish I’d taken a chance on exchanging fluids,” Ranger said. “Be careful. Pooka is still out there.”

  “If he’s already infected me, what more could he do?”

  “He could shoot you,” Ranger said.

  With that in mind, I descended to the garage, found the Macan, and drove to the office.

  •••

  Connie looked up when I walked in. “Boy, I’m glad to see you. We were really worried when Lula couldn’t find you. She walked all around the neighborhood and finally found someone who said a lady had been hit by a white van and taken away. I guess they thought the guy in the van was taking you to get medical help.”

  “He tagged me with my stun gun, handcuffed me, and loaded me into the back of his van. How could that possibly be interpreted as medical help?”

  “It was a little kid,” Connie said. “The kid said the nice man gave you bracelets.”

  The front door banged open, and Lula burst in.

  “I got it. Heaven help me, I got the plague. I
woke up and I was all itchy, and when I got to the bathroom I saw them!”

  “Saw what?” Connie asked.

  “The boo-boos. I got them. They’re all over me. I’m gonna die. I got plague boo-boos.”

  “Have you been to a doctor?” Connie asked.

  “No. I came straight here. I’m afraid to go to a doctor. He’s gonna tell me my fingers and toes are gonna fall off and then I’m gonna die. I read about it, and it’s not good to die from the plague. I’m gonna need a closed casket. I’m gonna look terrible. And I’ll tell you another thing. I want my money back on those dumb flea collars. They don’t work.”

  “Where are the buboes?” I asked her.

  “All around my neck and ankles.”

  Connie got up and took a close look. “You’ve got a rash from the flea collars.”

  “I never thought of that,” Lula said. “I guess I should take them off. I even wore them in the shower, and come to think of it they got all sticky.”

  Connie gave Lula scissors, and Lula cut the flea collars off and threw them away.

  “This here’s a big relief,” Lula said. “I thought I was a goner.” She looked over at me. “Holy cow, what’s with you!”

  My hand went to my face. “You mean the scrapes and stitches?”

  “I mean the Pilates pants and the little black T-shirt. That’s a total new look for you. It’s damn sexy. I might try that look on myself.”

  “It’s comfortable,” I said. “The material doesn’t pull on my scabs.”

  “We got an abbreviated version of yesterday from Tank,” Connie said. “And Susan Gower called and said you came in for some stitches, but you were okay.”

  “I got some skin taken off when Pooka hit me with the van. I was lucky I wasn’t hurt worse.”

  “Tank told us you were with Becker.”

  “Pooka had been keeping Becker in the garage behind his house by Kiltman. I think he moved him when he moved the fleas.”

  “Why’d he want Becker?” Lula asked.

  “Pooka needed a blood source for his fleas,” I said. “He had Becker drugged, and he was taking blood from him.”

  Lula’s eyes rolled back into her head, and she crashed to the floor.

  “Either she just had a massive heart attack or else she fainted,” Connie said. “Get her feet elevated.”

  I propped Lula’s feet up on a couch cushion, and Connie draped a wet towel over her forehead.

  Lula opened her eyes, but she looked like she was still out.

  “No blood,” she said. “You can’t have my blood.”

  “No one’s taking your blood,” Connie said. “You fainted.”

  “Did I pee my pants?” Lula asked. “I heard sometimes you pee your pants when you faint.”

  We got Lula up on her feet and moved her to the couch.

  “I didn’t actually faint,” Lula said. “I just had a moment. You better not tell anybody I fainted. It would ruin my reputation for being sensitive but tough.”

  “I’ve got your messenger bag from Lula,” Connie said to me. “I put it in the bottom file drawer.”

  I retrieved my bag and pulled my phone out. Twelve missed calls from my mother and four from Morelli. I didn’t want to talk to either of them. I didn’t know what to say.

  “I’m picking Gobbles up so he can check back in with the court,” I said to Connie. “Hopefully we can get him rebonded right away, so he doesn’t have to spend a night in jail.”

  “Vinnie’s there now. I’ll tell him to wait for you.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Lula said. “And on the way back we can stop at a drugstore, and I can get some cortisone cream for my neck. It’s already feeling better now that the flea collar is off. Except I feel underdressed without my bedazzles.”

  •••

  Gobbles was waiting on the sidewalk in front of Julie’s house when I pulled up. He got in the backseat, and he looked nervous.

  “I hope this goes okay,” he said. “I don’t want to be in jail. It’s scary when they close the door, and you’re behind bars like a caged animal.”

  “Vinnie is there now,” I said. “We’ll do everything we can to get you released.”

  Ten minutes later I parked in the public lot, took Gobbles directly into the courthouse, and turned him over to Vinnie.

  “He’s going to be okay,” Lula said. “I got one of those feelings again.”

  I dropped Lula off at the drugstore, and Morelli called while I was waiting for her.

  “I got a hospital report on you,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m good. I just have to wait to see if I get sick.”

  “I’m not going to ask about last night,” he said. “I don’t want to know.”

  “Nothing happened. I had a horrible day, and it didn’t seem like a good idea to leave me alone in my apartment.”

  “I guess I can identify. I had a colonoscopy.”

  “I heard. How are you doing?”

  “I’m doing great,” Morelli said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you yesterday.”

  “As it turned out, it was lucky you weren’t available. When you didn’t answer Lula’s call, she went to Ranger, and he was able to track me down. I was driving a Rangeman car, and I had the GPS key fob in my pocket.”

  “I heard you got run over by a truck.”

  “I was looking for an FTA and Pooka came out of nowhere and clipped me with his right front quarter panel. Have they found him yet?”

  “Not that I know. Everybody and their brother is looking for him.”

  “He must have had a contingency plan. As soon as the fireworks were discovered and confiscated, he was out of his apartment by the college and into another house. And he moved again after he captured me. He drugged me, drew blood for his fleas, supposedly infected me with plague, and he packed up and took off.”

  “ ‘Supposedly infected’?”

  “If I let myself believe it I get hysterical.”

  “Any idea where he went?”

  “No,” I said. “No idea at all.”

  “I’m kind of sidelined today, but I’ll be back at work tomorrow, and I might be able to find out more. Are you staying at Rangeman again tonight?”

  “No. I’m going back to my own apartment. Rex gets lonely when I’m away.”

  Lula returned to the car and I said goodbye to Morelli.

  “Who were you talking to?” Lula asked. “Did you get any more information about Pooka?”

  “I was talking to Morelli. He’s off today, so he doesn’t have much information.”

  “We heard he was having a colonoscopy. I don’t know why anyone would want one of those. First off you get a camera stuck up your butt. A camera! It might as well be a rhinoceros.”

  “It’s a small camera,” I said.

  “Don’t matter. It’s a camera. Not only do you gotta get it stuck way up there, but it takes pictures. I mean do you want people looking at pictures of the inside of your butt? Isn’t it bad enough everyone’s looking at the outside?”

  “It’s not like it gets put on YouTube.”

  “You don’t know that for sure. And that’s not even the worst part. I read about it. If they see something sticking out on the inside of your butt they knock it off with the camera. If you got one of them polyp things the camera knocks it off. And then what happens to it? Do they stick a vacuum up your butt and suck the polyp up? I mean how much stuff can you stick up there, right?”

  I turned the radio on. Loud. If the radio didn’t drown Lula out I was going to crash the car into a telephone pole.

  “What are we going to do now?” Lula yelled at me. “Do you want to go after the lawnmower man?”

  “I’m taking the afternoon off. I need some downtime.”

  “I get that. Me, too. I’ve been traumatized by my flea experience. And that’s my word of the day, by the way. Traumatic. I thought it was an appropriate word of the day. I bet I get to use it a lot today.”

  •••

>   I dropped Lula at the office and I turned into the Burg. No doubt my mother had already gotten a bazillion phone calls about me getting checked out at the hospital. I needed to show her I was okay, and it was all not a big deal. It would take some acting on my part, because it felt like a big deal to me. I was thinking that maybe I should give the pastry chef thing one more try.

  I parked in the driveway and tried not to limp on my way to the front door. My knee hurt, and my elbow didn’t feel all that good, either. My mother was in the kitchen ironing. Never a good sign. My mother ironed when she was upset. She’d iron the same shirt for hours if she had nothing else to iron. My grandmother was at the kitchen table on her laptop.

  “Tweeting?” I asked her.

  “Nope,” she said. “I’m checking out bubonic plague. We heard you got it. And I have to tell you I’m not finding much good about it.”

  “I don’t have the plague. I feel fine.”

  My mother looked up from her ironing and made the sign of the cross. “Good heavens, just look at you!”

  “I don’t think she looks that bad,” Grandma said. “I was expecting a lot worse. I saw this movie once where a guy got dragged down the road behind a pickup truck and Stephanie don’t look nearly that bad. And her pimple looks a lot better than it used to.”

  “I thought I’d stop around for lunch,” I said. “I’m starved.”

  “Hear that, Ellen?” Grandma said. “You can stop ironing now.”

  “In fact I have a terrific idea,” I said. “Let’s go out for lunch.”

  “I don’t know,” my mother said. “I’m not dressed.”

  “We don’t have to go someplace fancy,” I said. “We could go to the diner on Route 33 or we could go to Cluck-in-a-Bucket.”

  “I vote for Cluck-in-a-Bucket,” Grandma said. “And I don’t want drive-thru food, either. They screw you at the drive-thru. I’m going to get a double Clucky Burger with bacon and cheese and special sauce. And I’m going to get cheese fries.”

  “You’ll be up all night with heartburn,” my mother said.