Twisted Twenty-Six

by Janet Evanovich

  “My dragon dropped me off,” Richie said.

  “Can your dragon get you down?” Butch asked.

  “He flew away. I don’t know where he went. He’s sort of a free-spirit dragon.”

  Butch turned to Connie. “Are there stairs to the roof?”

  “No.”

  “This building backs up to an alley,” Butch said. “We’ll drive the truck around and pick him off from there.”

  Everyone got back into the truck, and the truck chugged around the corner. Connie, Lula, and I went into the bonds office and had a donut. After a couple minutes there was a knock on the back door. We all went to the door and looked out at Butch.

  “There’s a dead guy back here,” he said.

  My heart skipped a beat. “Richie?”

  “No. An unknown. We found him behind the dumpster. He’s got a hole in his head. Do you want to take a look and see if you can ID him?”

  “No,” I said.

  “I’ll pass on that too,” Lula said. “I don’t like dead stuff. Especially people.”

  Connie went with Butch, looked at the dead guy, and came back to us. “I don’t know him,” she said. “I took a picture with my phone, if you want to see.”

  I looked at the picture. “It’s possible that this is one of the men who tried to kidnap Grandma. I remember his shoes. Red Air Jordans. And he’s the right size. I didn’t get to see his face.”

  I called Morelli and told him about the body behind the dumpster.

  “I’m already on my way,” he said. “I just got a call from the uniform who’s on the scene with you. He was at your parents’ house yesterday and remembered you talking about the red shoes.”

  We went out and watched the ladder go up and Richie get helped down.

  “This is a lot better than last time,” Butch said. “Last time he was naked, and no one wanted to bring him down. We had to draw straws.”

  “The boy’s got a problem,” Lula said. “He needs to get a different dragon.”

  We all nodded agreement.

  “I suppose you’re going to want to wait for Morelli,” Lula said. “I hope he gets here soon because I’m in a mood to go after the shoplifter.”

  “He said he was already on his way.”

  “What do you think of my hair?” she asked.

  Lula’s hair was cut short, dyed blue-black, and was totally slicked down.

  “I like it,” I said.

  “It’s one of them retro-French looks.”

  “Yep. I can see that.”

  “It’s why I’m wearing this little scarf around my neck. It’s the recommended accessory.”

  Richie was on the ground, flitting around like a butterfly, flapping his arms. The first responders were standing back, waiting for him to get tired.

  “I don’t know what he’s on,” Butch said, “but I want some.”

  Connie went into the office and came back with the donut box. There were two donuts left. She waved the box in front of Richie and immediately got his attention.

  “If you go in the truck with the medics, you can have these donuts,” Connie said.

  Richie stopped flitting and took the donut box. “Yum.”

  “We’ve got to remember to bring donuts next time we get called out to rescue a crazy,” Butch said.

  Morelli angle parked behind the fire truck and walked over to us.

  “Did Velez tell you anything?” I asked him.

  “He met a guy in a bar, they got to talking, and the guy offered him a job. One-time hit. Fifty dollars.”

  “That’s all? Fifty dollars?”

  “Velez thought it was good money.”

  Morelli looked over to the dumpster. Two legs were sticking out from behind it. Attached to the legs were two feet stuffed into red Air Jordans.

  “If I was going to kidnap someone, I wouldn’t be wearing red Air Jordans,” Morelli said. “But that’s just me.”

  “What else did you get from Velez?” I asked. “Did he know who wanted Grandma snatched?”

  Morelli shook his head. “No. At least he didn’t say. It was hard to communicate since your mother broke his jaw and it’s wired shut.”

  “Yep, she buys a quality iron. Heavy duty. She likes the one with the burst of steam.”

  “I’m going to go do my cop thing,” he said. “Are you coming back to my house tonight?”

  “Do you think I should?”

  “Absolutely. You might need your dressing changed.”

  “And you’re good at that?”

  “Cupcake, I’ve got skills you haven’t even experienced yet.”

  “We’re talking about my bandage, right?”

  “Yeah, that too.”

  Oh boy.

  I moved over to where Connie and Lula were standing, and we watched Morelli walk away.

  “That man is fine,” Lula said. “He’s got a good butt. There’s only one other butt in Trenton, maybe the world, better than Morelli’s butt.”

  “Ranger’s?” I asked.

  “Mine,” Lula said. “I have a magnificent butt.”

  Connie and I looked at Lula’s butt.

  “Impressive,” Connie said.

  “Exactly,” Lula said. “I need it to balance out my generously proportioned bosoms.”

  Connie and I knew this was an understatement. Lula’s bosoms were way beyond generous.

  “Did you find anything helpful in the files I gave you?” Connie asked me.

  “Yes. I’m going to start with Julius Roman. I’m joining him for lunch today.”

  “While you have lunch with the mobster, I’m going to hunt down the shoplifter,” Lula said.

  * * *

  —

  New Town Deli was squashed between an office building and a pawnshop in a part of Trenton that got a lot of foot traffic at lunchtime. I sat across the street from the deli and watched for Roman. At 11:55 I saw him walking toward me. He was the exact opposite of Benny the Skootch. Roman was thin and spry. If he had a posse with him, I couldn’t spot them. He was neatly dressed in a button-down shirt, gray slacks with a razor-sharp crease, and a blue blazer. I’d be disappointed if he wasn’t carrying under the blazer. I gave him time to get settled at his table before I left the Buick. I wanted to make sure no one else was dining with him. At 12:15, I crossed the street and entered the deli. The room was long and narrow. Generic booths ran along one wall. Wood tables that seated four filled the rest of the space. All of the booths and half of the tables were filled. At the very back, next to the swinging door to the kitchen, was a small table with a white tablecloth. This was Roman’s table. He was sitting quietly with a glass of red wine in front of him. He was smiling, thinking his own thoughts. That ended when he saw me. He looked around and relaxed when he realized I was alone. Not that he had to worry. I’m sure the waiter was adept with a garrote, and at a moment’s notice the chef would be at the table with his carving knife.

  “Mr. Roman,” I said, “would you mind if I join you?” Going with polite and respectful.

  “Not at all,” he said.

  A waiter immediately appeared at my side.

  “Miss Plum will be dining with me,” Roman said.

  I waved the waiter away and turned back to Roman. “Thank you, but I just want a moment of your time. We have a problem. Apparently, the La-Z-Boys aren’t the only ones interested in finding the keys.”

  Roman nodded. He knew this.

  “And I’m sure you know that I was shot during an attempt to kidnap Grandma yesterday.”

  Another nod.

  “One of the men is in the hospital, and the second man was just found dead behind the bonds office.”

  Roman’s face showed nothing.

  “Did you know?” I asked. And what I was really asking was, did the La-Z-Boys commiss
ion the hit?

  “I didn’t know about the second man,” Roman said. “I’m not surprised. The stakes are high.”

  “Do you know this other party?”

  “I have suspicions.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “And they’re just suspicions.”

  “You must be worried that someone will get to Grandma before you.”

  Roman shrugged. “We’ll get her one way or another. We would prefer that she gives the keys up without violence. At least I would prefer that. I can’t speak for Lou.”

  “She doesn’t have the keys.”

  Another shrug from Roman.

  “I’m good at finding things,” I told him.

  “People.”

  “Yes. But I might be able to hunt down the keys if I had a little help.”

  “What kind of help?”

  “I don’t know what I’m looking for. I don’t know how many keys we’re talking about. I don’t know what they look like. I don’t know their purpose.”

  “You don’t need to know any of those things. If you’re lucky enough to run across them, you’ll know they’re the keys.”

  The waiter approached. “So sorry to disturb you, Mr. Roman. Would you like your soup now, or would you prefer to wait a little?”

  “I’ll have it now,” Roman said. “My guest is leaving.”

  I stood and settled my bag on my shoulder. “Can you give me a starting point? You knew Jimmy. What would he do with the keys?”

  “If I knew the answer to that question, I’d be in possession of the keys,” Roman said.

  I left the deli and returned to the Buick. I was about to drive out of the lot when I got a call from Lula.

  “I got him!” Lula yelled into the phone. “I got the little weasel. He was coming out of Macy’s with a bag, just like last time. I chased him down, and I yanked him out of his Escalade. I was awesome.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “I’m still in the Macy’s lot. I thought I’d drive him straight to the pokey.”

  “You can’t do that. You aren’t officially hired to do that job. You haven’t got any of the necessary papers to make a capture. Stay in the Macy’s parking area, and I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  LULA WAS PACING BESIDE her Firebird when I pulled in next to her.

  “Where is he?” I asked. “I don’t see him in your car.”

  “He’s in the trunk. I couldn’t get him to calm down. He was thrashing around and yelling, so I had to stun him and cuff him, and then I put him in the trunk. It’s nice and quiet and dark in there. I figured he’d be comfy. I keep my trunk real clean. It’s got one of those all-weather liners.”

  “We can’t keep him in the trunk. Get him out and we can put him in my Buick.”

  Lula opened the trunk and I looked in.

  “That’s not him,” I said.

  “Of course it’s him,” Lula said. “It looks just like him.”

  “Help! Police! Help!” the guy yelled.

  I closed the lid on him. He was still yelling, but it was muffled.

  I pulled Lula aside. “Did you check for an ID? Did you look in the bags to see if he had receipts for his purchases?”

  “Hell, no, I didn’t do any of that. I was too busy wrestling him under arrest. He was totally uncooperative.”

  “Maybe because you’ve got the wrong man.”

  “Well, I didn’t have the file with me. I had to go on memory. And what about the Escalade? He was getting into a Escalade.”

  “Lots of people have Escalades. This one doesn’t have the right license plate.”

  “Oops,” Lula said.

  I opened the trunk again, apologized, and helped him out. His face was red, and he was sweating.

  “She stun-gunned me,” he said. “I thought I was going to die.”

  Lula attempted to unlock his cuffs, and he kicked out at her.

  “Get her away from me,” he said. “She’s nuts. She’s a psycho.”

  I took the key from Lula and got the cuffs off him. I apologized again and told him Lula was on medication and had escaped from her handler. I carried his bags to the Escalade and promised him I would take Lula back to the rehab center. He wanted my name and I told him I was Joyce Barnhardt.

  We watched him drive away.

  “That was embarrassing,” Lula said.

  “We should leave before he comes back with the police.”

  “Are you going to the office?”

  “No. I’m going to my parents’ house to talk to Grandma about the keys.”

  “I’ll follow you so I can make sure you don’t get shot again.”

  Twenty minutes later we parked behind the Rangeman SUV and walked into my parents’ house. Grandma was at the dining room table, working on her bucket list.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got here,” Lula said, sitting next to her. “Whoa, a trip to Antarctica. That’s a good one. Although I heard the penguins are real stinky.”

  I didn’t see my mother in the kitchen.

  “Where’s Mom?” I asked.

  “Grocery shopping. That’s why I’m sitting in the dining room. If someone busts in the back door again, I have more time to run out the front door.”

  I poked around in the fridge and found a container of leftover chicken salad.

  “Anyone want to share this?” I asked.

  “I had lunch,” Grandma said.

  “I had a pizza at the mall before I ran into you-know-who,” Lula said.

  I got a fork and ate the chicken out of the container. “I want to talk about the keys, again,” I said to Grandma. “You married Jimmy. You had to know all kinds of things about him.”

  “I guess so. It happened pretty fast. It was like love at first sight, except it happened after sixty-three years.”

  “How did he feel about the keys? Was he worried about losing them? Did he offer to show them to you? Did he have a special place for them when he was in his apartment?”

  “He didn’t talk about the keys,” Grandma said. “Other people talked about the keys. Not actually talked about them. Just that Jimmy was the Keeper of the Keys. And everyone knew that it was a big deal. I guess I got the feeling that Jimmy usually had the keys with him. So, they must have been small. Like regular keys. And if they thought he passed the keys to me as he was dying, they would have to be small and on a key ring.”

  “But he didn’t pass them to you. And the keys weren’t on him when he died. He had a wallet with credit cards and cash. That was it,” I said.

  “How about the ambulance people?” Lula asked.

  “I was with him when they took him away,” Grandma said. “I didn’t see anybody take any keys from him.”

  “Okay,” I said, “let’s go at it from a different angle. If you were Jimmy, what would you do with the keys when you were on vacation in the Bahamas?”

  “If it was me, I’d hide them in my underwear drawer,” Grandma said.

  “Yes, but suppose you were Jimmy.”

  “Jimmy could be real crafty,” Grandma said. “He was clever. He might even put them someplace that was booby-trapped.”

  “In his hotel room? In his condo?”

  “His condo. I’m thinking he didn’t take the keys with him. We were going for just a couple days, and it was one of those last-minute decisions. He might not even have thought about the keys, what with all the other stuff going on.”

  “What other stuff?”

  “He had to get more male enhancement pills. And he wanted a haircut. And he had to get the plane tickets and the hotel room. Jimmy didn’t have a bunch of young wiseguys like some of the other La-Z-Boys. He didn’t have a personal assistant or anything. He did everything himself. Even when it came to work, I’m guessing he mostly just we
nt out and killed people.”

  “Did that bother you?” Lula asked. “Most people don’t like people who kill people.”

  “I didn’t think about it until after he was dead,” Grandma said. “It’s not like he took me out on a date and talked about whacking people. I went out with a butcher once, and all he could talk about was sawing cows apart and chopping the heads off chickens. It was awful. Jimmy and me played gin rummy and went to the movies. It was nice. Besides, it wasn’t like he killed random people. He was a respected professional. He had a real good reputation.”

  “Have you been to his condo since he died?” I asked Grandma.

  “No. It’s not like I moved in. There wasn’t anything of mine at his place. And I knew his sisters went through it right away. I figured they took what they wanted. There wasn’t really anything I wanted. I was going to wait until the lawyer made it official and the condo was mine before I took a look at it.”

  “Do you have a key?” I asked her.

  “No, but Jimmy was always forgetting his keys and getting locked out, so he kept a key in the potted plant by the elevator.”

  “Let’s take a look at his condo.”

  * * *

  —

  The condo building was an ugly yellow brick cube on the edge of the Burg. It had originally been divided into apartments, and it was almost as old as the La-Z-Boys. The interior was dark and utilitarian. The halls were narrow. Jimmy lived on the third floor.

  “Jimmy moved here after the second divorce,” Grandma said, taking the key from the potted plant. “He liked the location. He wanted to stay in the Burg.” She opened the door to his unit and flipped the light switch.

  The shades had all been drawn, and even with the lights on, the room was dark.

  “Jimmy didn’t care much about decorating,” Grandma said. “He felt comfortable with this old stuff. He said it suited him.”

  “I guess you get used to something, and you don’t want to change,” Lula said. “Anybody know the age of this building? This wallpaper looks like it’s been on here about fifty years.”

  I knew several people had thoroughly searched the condo, but nothing looked disturbed. The two rolled-arm chairs in the living room had a floral print that was faded and threadbare. The cushions in the green velvet rolled-arm couch were in need of plumping. Magazines and newspapers were stacked on a small coffee table. Table lamps had shades that were yellow with age.