I clapped my hand over my eye.
“What's wrong with your eye?” my mother asked.
“It's twitching.”
“You're too nervous. It's that job. Look at you rushing out of the house. And what's that on your belt?”
“Pepper spray.”
“Your sister, Valerie, doesn't wear such things on her belt.”
I looked at my watch. If I ate real fast, I could still get to Spiro by eight.
My father was at the table, reading his paper, drinking coffee. “How's the Buick?” he asked. “You giving it high-test?”
“The Buick's fine. No problems.”
I chugged the juice and tried the oatmeal. It needed something. Chocolate, maybe. Or ice cream. I added three spoons of sugar and some milk.
Grandma Mazur took her seat at the table. “My hand feels better,” she said, “but I got the devil of a headache.”
“You should stay at home today,” I said. “Take it easy.”
“I'm going to take it easy at Clara's. I look a fright. Don't know how my hair got like this.”
“No one will see you if you don't go out of the house,” I argued.
“Suppose someone comes over. Suppose that good-looking Morelli boy comes to visit again? You think I want him seeing me like this? Besides, I got to go while I still got the bandage on and I'm big news. Not every day a person gets attacked at the bakery.”
“I have things to do first thing this morning, but then I'll be back, and I'll take you to Clara's,” I told Grandma. “Don't go without me!”
I wolfed down the rest of the oatmeal and had a fast half cup of coffee. I grabbed my jacket and pocketbook and took off. I had my hand on the door when the phone rang.
“It's for you,” my mother said. “It's Vinnie.”
“I don't want to talk to him. Tell him I've already left.”
The cell phone rang just as I hit Hamilton.
“You should have talked to me at home,” Vinnie said. “It would have been cheaper.”
“You're breaking up . . . lousy connection.”
“Don't give me that lousy connection crap.”
I made some static sounds.
“And I'm not going to fall for that phony static, either. Make sure you get your keester in here this morning.”
I didn't see Morelli lurking in Spiro's parking lot, but I assumed he was there. There were two vans and a truck with a cap. Both good possibilities.
I collected Spiro and headed for the funeral home. When I stopped for the light at Hamilton and Gross, we both turned our attention to the Exxon station.
“Maybe we should stop in and ask a few questions,” Spiro said.
“What kind of questions?”
“Questions about the furniture truck. Just for the hell of it. I guess it would be interesting to see if Moogey was the one who took the caskets.”
I figured I had a couple choices. I could torture him by saying, what's the point? Let's just get on with our lives. And then I'd drive right on by. Or I could play along to see how it goes. There was definitely some merit to torturing Spiro, but my best instincts told me to let him run with the ball and tag along.
The bays were open. Most likely Sandeman was there. Big deal. Compared to Kenny, Sandeman was starting to look small-time. Cubby Delio was working the office. Spiro and I ambled in together.
Cubby snapped to attention at the sight of Spiro. Little prick that he was, Spiro still represented Stiva's mortuary, and Stiva threw a lot of business to the station. All of Stiva's cars were serviced and gassed here.
“I heard about your arm,” Cubby said to Spiro. “Damn shame. I know you and Kenny used to be friends. I guess he just went crazy. That's what everyone says.”
Spiro passed it off with a wave of his hand that implied it was nothing more than an annoyance. He pivoted on his heel and looked out the office window at the truck, still parked in front of the bay. “I wanted to ask you about the Macko truck. Do you always service that truck? Does it come in regularly?”
“Yep. Macko has an account, just like you. They've got two trucks, and we do both of them.”
“Who usually brings them in? Usually the same guy?”
“Usually it's Bucky or Biggy. They've been driving for Macko for a lot of years. Is there a problem? You looking to get some furniture?”
“Thinking about it,” Spiro said.
“It's a good company. Family run. Keep their trucks in real good condition.”
Spiro stuck his injured arm in his jacket. Small man imitates Napoleon. “Looks like you haven't found a replacement for Moogey.”
“Thought I had a guy, but he didn't work out. Hard to replace Moogey. When Moogey was running the station I hardly had to be here. Could take a day off once a week to go to the track. Even after he got shot in the knee, he was still reliable. Still came to work.”
I suspected Spiro and I had parallel thoughts, and I was thinking that maybe Moogey borrowed the truck on one of those track days. Of course, if he borrowed the truck, someone else would have to be minding the store. Or someone else would have to be driving the truck.
“It's hard to get good help,” Spiro said. “I have the same problem.”
“I've got a good mechanic,” Cubby said. “Sandeman's got his own ways, but he's a damn good mechanic. The rest of the people come and go. Don't need a rocket scientist to pump gas or change a tire. If I could find someone to work full time in the office, I'd be set.”
Spiro did some oily chitchat and oozed himself out of the office.
“You know any of the guys who work here?” he asked me.
“I've spoken to Sandeman. He has an attitude. Does a little recreational drug use.”
“You tight with him?”
“I'm not his favorite person.”
Spiro's gaze dropped to my feet. “Maybe it's the shoes.”
I wrenched the car door open. “Anything else you want to comment on? Maybe you have a few words to say about my car?”
Spiro angled onto the seat. “Hell, the car is awesome. At least you know how to pick out a car.”
I squired Spiro into the funeral parlor, where all security systems seemed intact. We did a superficial examination of his two customers and felt fairly certain no one had relieved them of any obvious body parts. I told Spiro I'd return for the night run and that he should beep me if he needed me sooner.
I would have liked to keep Spiro under surveillance. I figured he'd keep picking at the lead I'd given him, and who knows what he'd find? And even more important, if Spiro started moving around, maybe Kenny would move with him. Unfortunately, I couldn't conduct any meaningful surveillance in Big Blue. I'd have to find a different car if I wanted to tail Spiro.
The half cup of coffee I'd gulped at breakfast was working its way through my system, so I decided to go back to my parents' house, where I could use the bathroom. I could take a shower and give some thought to my car problem. At ten I'd chauffeur Grandma Mazur over to Clara's for an overhaul.
When I got home my father was in the bathroom, and my mother was in the kitchen, cutting vegetables for minestrone.
“I have to use the bathroom,” I said. “Do you think Daddy will be long?”
My mother rolled her eyes. “I don't know what he does in there. Takes the paper in with him, and we don't see him for hours.”
I snitched a chunk of carrot and a chunk of celery for Rex and hustled up the stairs.
I knocked on the bathroom door. “How much longer?” I yelled.
There was no answer.
I knocked louder. “Are you okay in there?”
“Christ,” was the muttered reply. “A man can't even take a crap in this house . . .”
I went back to my room. My mother had made my bed and folded all my clothes. I told myself it was nice to be back home and have someone doing little favors for me. I should be grateful. I should enjoy the luxury.
“Isn't this fun?” I said to a sleeping Rex. “It's not every day we ge
t to visit Grandmom and Grandpop.” I lifted the lid to give him his breakfast, but my eye was twitching so badly I missed the cage entirely and dropped his carrot chunk on the floor.
By ten o'clock my father still hadn't come out of the bathroom, and I was dancing in the hall. “Hurry up,” I said to Grandma Mazur. “I'm going to explode if I don't get to a bathroom soon.”
“Clara has a nice bathroom. She keeps potpourri in it, and she's got a crocheted doll that sits on the extra roll of toilet paper. She'll let you use her bathroom.”
“I know, I know. Get a move on, will you?”
She was wearing her blue wool coat and had a gray wool scarf wrapped around her head.
“You're going to be hot in that coat,” I told her. “It's not very cold out.”
“Haven't got anything else,” she said. “Everything's gone to rags. I thought maybe after Clara's we could go shopping. I got my Social Security check.”
“You sure your hand feels okay to go shopping?”
She held her hand in front of her face and stared at the bandage. "Feels okay so far. The hole wasn't real big. Tell you the truth, I didn't even know how deep it was until I got to the hospital. It happened so fast.
“I always thought I was pretty good at taking care of myself, but I don't know anymore. I don't move like I used to. I just stood there like a damn fool and let him stick me in the hand.”
“I'm sure there wasn't anything you could do, Grandma. Kenny's a lot bigger than you, and you were unarmed.”
Her eyes clouded behind a film of tears. “He made me feel like a silly old woman.”
Morelli was slouched against the Buick when I came out of Clara's. “Whose idea was it to talk to Cubby Delio?”
“Spiro's. And I don't think he's going to stop with Delio. He needs to find those guns so he can get Kenny off his back.”
“You learn anything interesting?”
I repeated the conversation for Morelli.
“I know Bucky and Biggy,” he said. “They wouldn't get mixed up in something like this.”
“Maybe we've jumped to the wrong conclusion about the furniture truck.”
“I don't think so. I stopped by the Exxon station first thing this morning and took some pictures. Roberta says she thinks it's the same truck.”
“I thought you were supposed to be following me! What if I was attacked? What if Kenny came after me with the ice pick?”
“I followed you part of the time. Anyway, Kenny likes to sleep in.”
“That's no excuse! The least you could have done was let me know I was on my own!”
“What's the plan here?” Morelli wanted to know.
“Grandma will be done in an hour. I promised I'd take her shopping. And sometime today I have to stop in to see Vinnie.”
“He going to yank you off the case?”
“No. I'll take Grandma Mazur with me. She'll straighten him out.”
“I've been thinking about Sandeman . . .”
“Yeah,” I said. “I've been thinking about Sandeman, too. Initially I thought he might be hiding Kenny. Maybe it's just the opposite. Maybe he screwed Kenny over.”
“You think Moogey threw in with Sandeman?”
I shrugged. “It makes some sense. Whoever stole the guns had street contacts.”
“You said Sandeman didn't show any signs of sudden wealth.”
“I think Sandeman's wealth goes up his nose.”
Stephanie Plum 2 - Two For The Dough
13
“I feel much better now that my hair's back in shape,” Grandma said, hoisting herself up onto the front seat of the Buick. “I even had her put a rinse in it. Can you tell the difference?”
She'd gone from gunmetal gray to apricot.
“It's more of a strawberry blond now,” I said.
“Yeah, that's it. Strawberry blond. I always wanted to be one of those.”
Vinnie's office was just down the street. I parked at the curb and pulled Grandma in after me.
“I've never been here before,” Grandma said, taking it all in. “Isn't this something?”
“Vinnie's on the phone,” Connie said. “He'll be with you in a minute.”
Lula came over to get a closer look at Grandma. “So you're Stephanie's grandma,” Lula said. “I've heard a lot about you.”
Grandma's eyes brightened. “Oh yeah? What'd you hear?”
“For starters I heard you got stuck with an ice pick.”
Grandma held her bandaged hand out for Lula to see. “It was this here hand, and it got stuck just about clean through.”
Lula and Connie looked at the hand.
“And that isn't all that's happened,” Grandma said. “The other night Stephanie got a man's part in Express Mail. Opened it up right in front of me. I saw the whole thing. It was stuck to a piece of foam with a hatpin.”
“Get out,” Lula said.
“That's just the way it came through the mail,” Grandma said. “Sliced off like a chicken neck and stuck with a hatpin. Reminded me of my husband.”
Lula leaned forward so she could whisper. “You talking about size? Was your man's part that big?”
“Heck no,” Grandma said. “His part was that dead.”
Vinnie stuck his head out of his office door, and swallowed hard when he saw Grandma. “Oh jeez,” he said.
“I just picked Grandma up at the beauty parlor,” I told him “And now we're going shopping. Thought I'd stop by to see what you wanted, since I was just down the street.”
Vinnie's five-foot-nine frame hunched. His thinning black hair was slicked back and had the same level of shine as his pointy-toed black shoes. “I want to know what's happening with Mancuso. This was supposed to be a simple pickup, and now I'm hanging out for a lot of money.”
“I'm closing in,” I said. “Sometimes these things take time.”
“Time is money,” Vinnie said. “My money.”
Connie rolled her eyes.
And Lula said, “Say what?”
We all knew Vinnie's bond business was financed by an insurance company.
Vinnie balanced on his toes, hands loose at his sides. City boy. Slack-jointed. Tight-assed. “This case is out of your league. I'm giving it over to Mo Barnes.”
“I don't know Mo Barnes from Adam's donkey,” Grandma said to Vinnie. “But I know he can't hold a candle to my granddaughter. She's the best there is when it comes to bounty huntering, and you'd be a darn fool to take her off this Mancuso case. Especially now that I'm working with her. We're about to crack his case wide open.”
“No offense,” Vinnie said, “but you and your granddaughter couldn't crack a walnut with both hands, much less bring Mancuso in.”
Grandma pulled herself up and edged her chin out a half inch.
“Uh-oh,” Lula said.
“Bad things happen to people who take away from family,” Grandma told Vinnie.
“What kinds of bad things?” Vinnie asked. “What's my hair gonna fall out? My teeth gonna rot in my head?”
“Maybe,” Grandma said. “Maybe I'll put the evil eye on you. Or maybe I'll talk to your grandma Bella. Maybe I'll tell your grandma Bella how you talk fresh to an old woman.”
Vinnie swayed foot to foot like a caged cat. He knew better than to displease Grandma Bella. Grandma Bella was even scarier than Grandma Mazur. Grandma Bella had on more than one occasion taken a grown man by the ear and brought him to his knees. Vinnie made a low sound behind clenched teeth and narrowed his eyes. He muttered something through tight lips, tipped backward into his office, and slammed his door shut.
“Well,” Grandma said. “That's the Plum side of the family for you.”
It was late afternoon when we finished shopping. My mother opened the door for us with a grim set to her mouth.
“I had nothing to do with the hair,” I told her. “Grandma did that all by herself.”
“This is my cross to bear,” my mother said. She looked down at Grandma's shoes and genuflected.
; Grandma Mazur was wearing Doc Martens. She was also wearing a new hiplength, downfilled ski jacket, jeans that she'd rolled and pegged, and a flannel shirt to match mine. We looked like Tales from the Crypt does the Bobsey Twins.
Two for the Dough Page 24