“You aren’t looking to . . . you know, make money, are you? Because I think you’re real cute, but I don’t have any money. I bet on the wrong horse yesterday, and I got cleaned out.”
Oh great, he thought I was a hooker. Not exactly a flattering appraisal, but I could get some mileage out of it. “Do you bet on the wrong horse a lot?”
“Yeah, unfortunately. I used to always win, and then my luck turned, and now I keep getting deeper and deeper in the crapper.”
“Jeez, that’s too bad. Still, you’re lucky you have this pawnshop. Is it yours?”
“Yeah, sort of. I owe some people money, but I’ll take care of that as soon as my luck changes.”
I wandered around, looking in the cases. “You used to have a real pretty necklace in the window, but I haven’t seen it lately.”
“The one with the red stone? It got stolen. Some lady came in and robbed me and shot me in the foot.”
“Get out!”
“Honest to God. I still can’t get a shoe on that foot.”
“That’s horrible. Did she get arrested?”
“Yeah, but the cops didn’t recover the necklace.”
“Wow.”
“I got a bottle of real good hooch behind the counter,” Cramp said. “You want some to help get you warmed up?”
“Sure.”
Cramp pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and set it on the display case. “Help yourself.”
“Do you have a glass?”
“I have glasses upstairs. That’s where I live.”
“Maybe we could go upstairs.”
“Yeah, that’d be real good, but like I told you, I don’t have any money.”
“Well, what the heck, it’s cold, and I don’t have anything better to do. Let’s go upstairs anyway.”
Cramp looked like he was going to keel over.
“But what about the shop?” I asked.
“I’ll close it,” Cramp said, hurrying to the front door, throwing the bolt, changing the sign around to say CLOSED. “There’s never much business on Sunday anyway.” He took the bottle of Jack and motioned me to the rear of the pawnshop. “I have stairs that go up to my apartment,” he said. “We don’t even have to go out.”
The stairs were narrow and dark and creaky, leading to a small apartment that was also narrow and dark and creaky. The front room had a television on a card table, and opposite the television was a daybed covered with a floral quilt. A scarred end table had been placed to one side of the daybed.
Cramp got a couple glasses from the kitchen. He set the glasses on the end table and filled them with the Jack. “Down the hatch,” he said, and he emptied his glass.
I sipped demurely at mine. “It’s nice up here,” I said.
Cramp looked around. “Used to be nicer before my luck changed. I had some real good pieces, but you know how it is when you’re in retail. You have to turn a profit when you get a buyer.”
“I bet you were sorry to get robbed of the necklace. It looked expensive.”
“I wish I never saw that necklace. Look what it got me . . . a shot-up foot.”
“I think it’s an interesting story. It could probably even be a movie.”
“You think?” Cramp poured himself more Jack. “Yeah, I guess it could make a movie.”
Okay, I had him. He wasn’t a smart guy, and he was a little drunk, and it was going to be easy to get him rolling on an ego trip.
“Who hocked the necklace?” I asked Cramp. “Was it someone glamorous?”
“Well, not movie-star glamorous, but she was okay. In her twenties. Big bazoos. Sort of rat’s-nest hair, but when you got bazoos like that it don’t matter, right? That’s why I remember her. I’m not good with names, but I remember a good rack.”
Charming.
“Anyway, it was the same story I hear every day,” Cramp said. “She got the necklace from her boyfriend. Her boyfriend turned out to be a jerk. She wants some money for the necklace.”
Cramp tossed his Jack down his throat. Glug, glug, glug. This could explain his embalmed appearance.
“Keep going,” I said. “I want to hear the rest of the story.”
“Sure,” he said. “I never thought much about it, but it’s a pretty good story. And it gets even better. I hock the piece for Ms. Big Boobs, and a couple weeks down the road this guy comes in and wants the necklace. He’s got the claim ticket. I ask him what happened to the girl with the hooters, and he says I should shut my pie hole and give him the necklace.
“Now here’s where it gets good. This is the part that would be good for the movie. Almost all the jewelry in the shop is fake. I got a guy who fences the stuff when it comes in and makes me paste. It’s a win-win deal for me, right? I get the money from the fence, and then I either sell the paste to a customer, or the idiot who hocked it in the first place buys it back. Most of the time people can’t even tell it’s fake. And if they suspect it’s fake, they’re too embarrassed to do anything about it. Pretty smart, hunh? I thought of it all by myself.”
“Wow,” I said. “Cool.”
“Yeah. So anyway, this guy is standing in front of me with the claim ticket for the necklace, and all of a sudden I recognize him. It’s Lou Delvina. He’s the jerk boyfriend! I mean, Lou Delvina. Jesus. Do you know who Lou Delvina is?”
“I’ve heard of him,” I said to Cramp.
Everyone in Trenton knew Lou Delvina. For twenty years, he was a shooter for the north Jersey mob, and then he got his own real estate and moved into the Trenton area. He wasn’t big-time, but he made the most of what he had. I’d heard stories about Delvina, and none of the stories was good. Delvina was a very scary guy.
“If you know who Delvina is, you know the problem I’ve got,” Cramp said. “I sort of stole a necklace from someone who would kill me if he found out. And chances are sort of good he’d find out, since I’m guessing he knows paste when he sees it.”
“Jeez,” I said. “You must have been messing your pants.”
“Big time. But that was when it happened. My luck swung around. Delvina’s standing there with his claim ticket, and he gets a phone call. And it’s not a good call because his face gets all red and his eyes get beady and squinty. Little rat eyes. And he tells me he has to go, but he’ll be back for the necklace, and I should take real good care of it.”
“I would have left town,” I said to Cramp.
“See, that’s what most people would think, but I’m smarter than that. A couple women came into the shop to browse. Locals. And then another woman came in all by herself. And I knew she wasn’t local because I saw her park. Right in front. So as soon as they all left I faked a robbery. Good, right?”
“Definitely movie stuff. I bet Brad Pitt could play your part.”
“Brad Pitt would be good,” Cramp said. “I could see Brad Pitt doing it.”
“What did you do with the necklace? Did you plant it on the woman?”
“No. I trashed the necklace. There’s a crawl space under the back room, and I threw it down there. I threw the gun down there after I shot myself, too.”
“You shot yourself?”
“Yeah, I got carried away. I wanted to make it look real, but it hurt like a bitch. I didn’t think it would hurt so much. Anyway, I guess it was worth it because everyone bought the story. I told everybody the lady walked out with the necklace. The cops went after her, and Delvina went looking for her, too. Delvina really wants that necklace.”
“Does the real necklace still exist?”
“Hell, no. The stones got reset right away. I don’t know what my guy does with the setting. Melt it down, maybe.” Cramp looked at the bottle of Jack. Almost empty. “You think we can get to it now?”
“To it?”
“Yeah, you know, the thing we came up here for.”
I felt my cell phone buzz in my bag. I retrieved the phone and answered the call.
“Are you okay?” Diesel asked.
“Yeah.”
“Do you need h
elp?”
“There’s no emergency, but assistance might be good at this point. Where are you?”
“I’m just outside the pawnshop.”
“It’s locked.”
“Not anymore.” And he disconnected.
“Who was that?” Cramp asked.
“My pimp.”
“Jesus, I told you and told you I don’t have any money. What do you want? Take anything in the shop. How about some jewelry? It’s all fake but it’s still good shit.”
Diesel strolled into the front room and looked at Cramp, and I could see Cramp start to sweat through his shirt.
“Is there a problem?” Diesel asked.
“No problem,” Cramp said. “I told her to take anything she wanted from the shop. Hell, she didn’t even do anything.”
Diesel slid a look my way. “Is that right?”
I shrugged.
Cramp looked at Diesel. “Are you going to hit me?”
“Maybe,” Diesel said.
Cramp’s nose was running and his eyes were red-rimmed and tearing up. I was starting to feel sorry for him. He was such a pathetic little worm.
“You aren’t a cop, are you?” Cramp asked me.
“No. I’m not a cop.”
Cramp looked over at Diesel.
“He’s not a cop either,” I said. “Actually, I’m not sure what he is.”
Diesel didn’t crack a smile. “Do we have any more business here?”
“No. He hasn’t got any money.”
“Then it looks to me like we’re done here,” Diesel said. “Let’s roll.”
“Here’s a parting message,” I said to Cramp. “If it looks too good to be true, it probably is.”
Diesel wrapped his arm around my neck when we got outside. “What was with the profound message?”
“He thought I was a hooker and he was going to get a freebie.”
Diesel hugged me to him. “The guy’s a moron. Anyone can see you’re not the sort of girl who gives freebies.”
“Gee, thanks. I told him you were my pimp.”
“Lucky me.”
“He has the supposedly stolen necklace and the assault gun in a crawl space under the back room. Do you think we should get it?”
“No, but I think you should call it in to Morelli. Let him send someone over to retrieve it.”
I filled Diesel in on Delvina.
“Good work,” Diesel said. “You learned a lot.”
“And what about Annie? Do you think it’s possible that Delvina has Annie?”
“I think it’s possible that Delvina tossed Annie’s house and wants the necklace. I don’t see how Delvina could get to Annie.”
“Coincidence? Maybe she stepped out for air, and he happened to be driving down the street.”
“That’s a big coincidence.”
“I haven’t got anything else.”
“Me either,” Diesel said. “Let’s talk to Mr. Delvina.”
“Oh no. You can talk to Delvina. You’re Iron Man. And you don’t live here. I’m just wimpy Stephanie from the Burg. If Delvina shoots holes in me, all my vital fluids will leak out, and I’ll end up looking like Stanley Cramp.”
“Wouldn’t want any fluids to leak out of you that weren’t supposed to,” Diesel said. “I’ll track Delvina, and you check on Annie’s couples. We’re coming up on Valentine’s Day. Don’t want any snafus.”
10
My phone rang while I sat in my car watching Diesel drive away.
“Hey, cupcake,” Morelli said. “Just checking in. Anything I need to know?”
“Speak of the devil. I was just going to call you. I have some information to share. Vinnie bonded out a woman named Annie Hart. She supposedly robbed a pawnshop and shot the owner in the foot.”
“I remember that,” Morelli said. “The pawnshop owner is a little weasel named Stanley Cramp.”
“Yeah. Turns out Cramp faked the robbery and shot himself in the foot. The gun and the necklace are in a crawl space under the back room. I can give you more details later, but you should get someone over there before Cramp decides to get rid of the evidence.”
“I’ll call it in. How’s everything else?”
“It’s really slow at the bonds office. Only one big outstanding . . . and that was Annie Hart. Bob is good. He’s visiting with my parents today. Diesel’s in town.”
“Diesel?”
“Yeah, you remember Diesel, right?”
“Ranger’s half-brother.”
“He’s not Ranger’s half-brother.”
“He might as well be. They both run in the fast lane with their lights off.”
“You used to do that.”
“No. I was an asshole. I never actually thought I was Batman.”
“I see your point.”
“I’m locked away in a sleazoid motel, doing my cop thing. Do I need to come home?”
“Nope. I’ve got it all under control.”
“Good to know,” Morelli said. “I should have this wrapped up Tuesday or Wednesday. See you then.” And he disconnected.
I cut down to Klockner Boulevard and then to Hamilton and left-turned into the Burg. I eased to a stop in front of my parents’ house and killed the engine. Grandma was at the storm door, looking out at me, driven there by some mysterious inner radar that tells her when a granddaughter is approaching. Not that different from Diesel, when you think about it.
“Just in time,” Grandma said to me, holding the door open. “Your sister is here, and we got a nice coffee cake from the bakery.”
Bob heard my voice and came thundering down the hall, ears flopping, tongue out, google-eyed. He slid on the polished wood floor and plowed into me, knocking me into the wall.
I scratched his head and gave him a hug, and he galloped back to the kitchen and the coffee cake.
“He’s been such a good boy,” Grandma said. “It makes a house feel like a home when you got a dog in it. And he didn’t hardly eat anything this time. The TV Guide and a loaf of bread, but the good thing was he horked up the plastic wrap.”
Valerie was at the little kitchen table. She had the baby on her lap and coffee in front of her.
“Where are the girls?” I asked.
“Playgroup,” Valerie said. “They go every day now.”
I sliced off a chunk of coffee cake and out of habit I stood at the sink to eat.
My mother put a plate and fork and napkin on the table. “Sit,” she said. “It’s not good for your digestion to eat at the sink. You eat too fast. You don’t even chew. Did you chew that piece of cake?”
I didn’t know if I’d chewed it. I couldn’t even remember eating it, but my hand was empty, and I had crumbs on my shirt, so I guess that said it all.
I pulled a chair out across from Valerie and sat down. It was too late to eat my cake in a civilized manner . . . unless I had a second piece. I checked out the waistband on my jeans. Snug. Shit.
“Sorry I made Albert faint at the table,” I said to Valerie. “I thought he was sort of over the marriage phobia.”
“It’s hideous,” Valerie said. “The man is never going to marry me. I didn’t mind at first. I thought he just needed time. Now I don’t know what he needs.”
“He needs his head examined,” Grandma said.
“He had it examined,” Valerie said. “They didn’t find anything.”
We all pondered that for a moment.
“Anyway, it’s important that we get married,” Valerie said. “I’m pregnant again.”
We were all dumbfounded.
“Is that good news?” Grandma asked.
“Yes. I want to have another baby with Albert,” Valerie said. “I just wish I was married.”
Okay, that was the deal-breaker. Albert Kloughn was going down. He was going to marry my sister. I was going to make it happen.
I scraped my chair back. “Gotta go. Things to do. People to see. Is it okay if I leave Bob here just a little longer?”
“He’s not here forever,
is he?” my mother asked.
“No! I’ll be back for him. I promise.”
I hurried out of the kitchen and drove the short distance to Jeanine’s house. Her date was due to arrive any minute, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to do a last-minute courage check. I parked in front of her house, ran to the door, and rang the bell.
The door was thrown open, and Jeanine stood there buck naked. “Ta daaaah!” she sang out.
We locked eyes, and we both let out a shriek. I clapped my hands over my eyes, and Jeanine slammed the door shut. A minute later, the door reopened and Jeanine appeared, wrapped in a blanket.
“I thought you were Edward,” she said.
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Enough. And you’ll be happy to learn I watched the movie three more times and practiced moaning.” Her eyes rolled back in her head. “Ohhhh,” she moaned. “Oh yeah. Oh yeah.” She opened her eyes and looked at me. “How was that?”
A door opened two doors down, and an elderly man looked out at us. He shook his head and muttered something about lesbians and retreated back into his house.
“That was pretty good,” I said, “but you might want to adjust the volume.”
“Do you think the naked greeting is too much? I figured I’d get it over and done, so we could make our six o’clock dinner reservation. I was afraid if I waited until after dinner I’d get nervous and throw up.”
“Glad to see you’ve got it all figured out.”
Jeanine took a deep breath and cracked her knuckles. “Maybe I need another drinky poo.”
“Probably you’ve had enough drinky poos,” I told her. “You don’t want to get horizontal until your date shows up.”
I jogged back to the Escape, slipped behind the wheel, and punched in Charlene Klinger’s number.
“He called,” she yelled into the phone. “He wants to take me to dinner. What do I do?”
“You go to dinner with him.”
“It’s not that simple. I don’t know what to wear. And I need a babysitter. Where am I going to get a babysitter at this late notice?”
“I’m on my way,” I told her, putting the car in gear. “I’ll be there in a half hour.”
Junior opened the front door and let me in.
Between the Plums Page 18