'This guy travels light,' Ranger said.
'Maybe he has stuff stored with his parents.'
Ranger opened a closet and a bunch of guns fell out. He stepped over the guns and squatted in front of the file cabinet and opened the top drawer.
'He has a file labeled “Captures” but it's empty. He also has a file labeled “Wanted,” and it's filled with pictures he's ripped off federal bulletin boards.'
Ranger pulled the bottom drawer open, removed a scrapbook, and handed it over to me. 'I have a bad feeling about this scrapbook. Scan it while I look through the cupboards.'
'Your bad feeling is justified,' I said, flipping pages. 'This is homage to Ranger. It looks to me like he was following you around. There are pictures in here of your office building and your cars. There are pictures of you. Pictures of you with me. Pictures of… omigod.'
It was a picture of Carmen naked. The handwriting on the bottom read: OUR WEDDING NIGHT, PRACTICING FOR THE REAL THING. And it was followed by a snapshot of me. And for the first time I saw the resemblance between Carmen and me. Not that we'd pass for twins, more that we were similar in coloring and build.
Ranger looked over my shoulder. 'This guy is sick.'
'Do you think he married Carmen because she looks a little like me?'
'Yes. I think he's trying to move into my life.'
'He left her behind and killed her.'
'Guess he's done practicing,' Ranger said.
The next page had a picture of Ranger in front of the Martines' house, talking to Ron. The caption read: RANGER MAKES A MYSTERIOUS VISIT AND I KNOW HIS SECRET. This was followed by pictures of Julie.
Ranger went dead still. He stared at the pictures of his daughter and his face showed no emotion, but he wasn't breathing. It was as if the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. His hands were loose at his sides and his eyes were focused on the pictures. He was looking at a little girl with silky brown hair, intelligent brown eyes, and flawless light brown skin… the image of her father. I slipped my hand in his and waited for him to pull himself together.
'She'll be okay,' I said. 'He's playing a role. He's going to act like he's her dad.'
Ranger nodded. 'I'd like to think that was true. Let's pack up. I'm going to take the computer and the scrapbook. I don't see anything else of value to us.'
We carted Scrog's stuff downstairs and out to the car and put it in the trunk. The sun had set, and the parking lot was dark. Traffic noise carried over the apartment building.
'Now what?' I said to Ranger. 'Do you want to talk to his parents?'
'No. I have what I need. Let's go home.'
We took 95 north to the beltway, driving in silence, Ranger in his zone. We were following taillights in the dark, gliding through the night like disembodied spirits. We were between time and place, encapsulated in steel and fiberglass. All this much more poetic than the reality of the moment, which was that my ass was falling asleep. I'd like to say I was in a zone like Ranger, but the truth was, I'd never in my life achieved a zone. In fact, I couldn't even imagine a zone, and didn't really know what one was. If I had to describe my condition, I'd have to say I was freaked.
I fell asleep somewhere in Maryland and didn't wake up until we were on Broad Street. I stretched and looked at Ranger. His hand was loose on the wheel. His breathing was even. At first glance, he seemed relaxed. If you looked more closely, the tension around his eyes and the corners of his mouth was visible. I wondered what was really inside him. And at what cost he kept it hidden.
He parked in my lot and got out of the car. 'I'm going to see you upstairs,' he said.
'Not necessary.'
He beeped the car locked and moved me toward the building. 'It is necessary. There's some psycho running around wanting to add you to his Ranger memorabilia.'
'You're right,' I said. 'Thanks. I'm happy to be escorted.'
We got upstairs without incident, Ranger opened the door to my apartment and flicked the lights on. Rex was quietly running on his wheel.
'The attack hamster is on the job,' Ranger said.
I dropped a peanut into Rex's cage and turned back to Ranger. He looked tired under the kitchen light. He had dark smudges under his eyes and his mouth was tight, fighting sleep. 'You look exhausted,' I said to him.
'Long day.'
'You have another half-hour drive to get to your safe house. Would you like to stay here tonight?'
'Yes.'
'This isn't a sexual invitation,' I said.
'I know. The couch will be fine.'
Stephanie Plum 12 - Twelve Sharp
Ten
I woke up slowly. I opened my eyes and saw there was a bar of light shining through the crack in my bedroom curtains. It was morning. And I was in my own bed, feeling incredibly comfy. I looked down and realized there was a man's arm thrown across my chest, the hand lightly curled around my breast.
Ranger.
I moved my head ever so slightly on the pillow and looked over at him. He was still asleep. He had a decent beard growth going and his hair had fallen across his forehead. I was pretty sure he wasn't in my bed when I fell asleep. I looked under the covers. I was wearing my knit tank top and short pajama bottoms. Ranger was wearing briefs. Could be worse, I thought.
'Hey,' I said.
He wrapped his arms around me and cuddled me into him, his eyes still closed.
'Ranger!'
'Mmm.'
'What are you doing in my bed?'
'So far I'm not doing anything, but that could change.'
'You said you were going to sleep on the couch.'
'I lied.'
This was bad because he felt way too good. I looked beyond him to the clock. Nine o'clock, 'I have to go to work,' I said. 'I'm already late.'
He drew me in a little closer and stroked his thumb across my breast. 'Are you sure you want to go to work now?'
I got a rush that was so strong it might have been an orgasm, and I think I might have moaned a little. Mentally, I was working hard to be faithful to Morelli, but the physical part of me wasn't cooperating.
Ranger kissed my shoulder, and the phone rang. Ordinarily, at a time like this you'd rip the phone line out of the wall. But these were scary days, and we both went still at the sound.
'Let me get it,' I said, reaching across Ranger.
There was a lot of noise at the other end, and then Melvin's voice came on. 'Thank God, you answered,' he yelled into the phone. 'I'm all alone here, and this mob's getting ugly. And Joyce Barnhardt is here, and she's frightening me!'
'Where're Connie and Lula?'
'I don't know where Lula is. Connie had to go bond someone out.'
I heard a gun go off in the background, Melvin shrieked and the line went dead. I pushed away from Ranger, and I rolled out of bed. 'I have to go. Melvin's alone at the bonds office, and he's got problems.'
I grabbed some clothes and ran into the bathroom.
'Who's Melvin?' Ranger said to my back.
I slid to a stop in front of the bonds office and jumped out of the Mini. The plate-glass window was filled with lettering advertising bail bonds. Beyond the lettering I could see that the small front office was filled with people dressed like the television bounty hunters I pushed through the door and shouted for Melvin.
'Here,' he yelled back. 'Under the desk.'
I plowed through the crowd and looked under the desk at Melvin. 'Why are all these people here? I thought they were scheduled throughout the morning.'
'Something got messed up, and they were all told to come in at nine.'
'What was the gunshot I heard?'
'Two guys were playing quick draw and one of them accidentally shot the phone.'
I glanced over at the phone. Shot dead.
I reached into the petty cash drawer and took out a wad of money. 'Hey!' I said. 'Listen up.'
No one listened, so I climbed onto the desk and tried again. 'Hey!' I yelled. 'Everyone shut the fuck up and listen to me.'
'I'm very sorry but the appointments got screwed up,' I told them. 'I'm going to reschedule you, and I'm going to give everyone five dollars to go have breakfast while you wait for your appointment time. So I want everyone to line up single file.'
Pandemonium. Everyone wanted to be first. Someone got knocked to the ground, and someone got punched in the face. And there was a lot of cussing and shouting and eye gouging and biting.
I got Connie's gun out of her desk drawer and fired a round into the ceiling. A chunk of plaster fell onto the desktop and plaster dust sifted onto my hair and shoulders.
'If you don't get in line nicely I'm going to shoot you,' I said.
This got them to sullenly line up with just a minimum amount of pushing and shoving. I gave out fifteen-minute appointments to eleven people. They each got five dollars. All but one left.
'You can come out from under the desk now,' I told Melvin. 'What happened to Joyce? I thought Joyce was here.'
'She left. She said she'd be back later this morning. She was real mad. Something about getting sent on a wild goose chase.'
I dragged a folding chair over to the desk and told the first bounty hunter impersonator to sit down. The folding chair was old and scarred and said STIVA FUNERAL HOME on the back. I sat in Connie's chair and called Lula on my cell.
'Where the heck are you?' I asked Lula.
'I had to go shopping. We were a big hit at the old people's home, and we got a new gig out of it. And I need a new outfit.'
'You're supposed to be here helping with the interviews.'
'I figured you didn't need me. They're all losers, anyway.'
I looked at the guy in the folding chair. He was dressed in black leather pants and a black leather vest that showed a lot of chest hair. A roll of fat oozed out from under the vest and spilled over his belt buckle. He'd accessorized with black leather wristbands that were studded with the metal things you see on Rottweiler collars. And he was wearing a blond mullet wig.
'You're right,' I said to Lula. 'Happy shopping.'
'So,' I said to the guy in front of me, 'what makes you qualified to be a bond enforcement agent?'
'I watch all the television shows, and I know I could do this. I don't take shit from anyone, and I got a gun.'
That would be the one that's strapped to your leg?'
'Yeah. And I'm not afraid to use it. I don't take crap from blacks, spics, chinks, pollacks or commies. I swear, I'll kill all the motherfuckers if I have to.'
'Good to know,' I said. 'You can go get breakfast now.'
Connie rolled in while I was interviewing idiot number 5. 'How's it going?' she asked. 'Sony I'm late. I had to bond someone out. Is that a bullet in my phone?'
'We had some problems in the beginning, but it's all straightened out now,' I told her. 'So far I've seen two psychos, one gay hut, a guy who got a boner talking about guns, and this gentleman here who seems to be wearing black leather chaps, cowboy boots, and nothing else.'
Connie looked down at the guy in the chair. 'Nice boots,' she said to him.
When he left we sprayed the chair with Lysol and invited the next candidate to sit.
'I'm here on a mission from God,' he said. 'I'm here to save your immortal souls.'
'I thought you were here for the bond enforcement position,' Connie said.
'God loves sinners and what better place to find them?'
'He's got a point,' I said to Connie.
Connie ripped his application off her clipboard.
Lula bustled in as the last guy was leaving. 'I can't believe how hard it is to find clothes when you're a rock star. It's not like us singers can wear just any old thing. And now Sally and me are getting famous for dressing together, and so I gotta find something that'll match up with a thong for him. I tell you, it's not easy.'
'Why can't you wear the white outfit again?' I asked her.
'It turns out all that shiny white isn't good for the old folks. They got macular shit and cataracts, and they were getting seizures from the light reflection off my ass.' Lula pulled a wad of pink feathers out of her shopping bag. 'I finally found this here flamingo feather dress. Only thing is, I couldn't find a flamingo feather thong, so I got a boa, and I figure we can sew some of it on a jock strap or something.'
'That's a lot of flamingo feathers,' Connie said. 'They aren't real, are they?'
'It says here they're genuine farm-raised dyed fowl. You want me to try it on?'
'No!' Connie and I said in unison.
Lula looked a little put off, so I told her it was just that we were starving, and maybe she'd show us after lunch.
'I'm hungry, too,' Lula said. 'I'm feeling like spaghetti and meatballs.'
'I could go for some spaghetti,' Connie said. 'I'll get Pino's to deliver.'
'I want a meatball sub,' I told her.
'And a side of potato salad,' Lula said. 'And a piece of their chocolate cake. Now that I'm doing all this entertaining I gotta keep my strength up.'
'Melvin?' Connie yelled out. 'We're ordering from Pino's. Do you want something?'
'No,' Melvin said from behind the first bank of file cabinets. 'I brought my lunch. I have to save my money in case I go to jail. I hear if you can't afford to buy cigarettes for everyone you have to be someone's bitch.'
'Is that why you didn't show up for your trial?' Lula asked. 'On account of you didn't want to be someone's bitch?'
'Yeah. I know I'm a pervert and all, but I'm not that kind of a pervert. I'm sort of a specialist. I'm like a do-it-yourself pervert.'
'I hear you,' Lula said. I've shopped in that aisle.'
Connie put the order in and shoved a stack of files to the middle of her desk. 'We have to pick one of these… for lack of a better word, people.'
'These people all gonna lower the quality of our work,' Lula said. 'And God knows it's already pretty low.'
'How are we doing?' I asked Connie. 'Are we catching up enough to do without a third person?'
'The problem is, you catch up but then we get a couple new FTAs in, and we're behind the curve again. I'm going to divide these files between us and everyone has to pick the best person in their stack. Then we'll choose one of those three people.'
We were still reading through the files when the Pino's guy arrived. We set the files aside, spread the food out on Connie's desk, and pulled up more of the funeral home folding chairs. I had my sub in my hand when Joyce Barnhardt stormed in and threw a file on the table, splattering Lula's spaghetti sauce.
'What the fuck's the matter with you?' Lula said. 'You got a problem?'
'Yeah, I got a problem, fatso. I don't like getting sent off on a goddamn wild goose chase with those LC files. I bet you all thought it was funny. See if Joyce can find Willie Reese, right?'
'What's wrong with finding Willie Reese?' Connie asked. 'Those were legitimate files I gave you.'
'He's friggin' dead. He's been friggin' dead for almost a year. What do you want me to do, dig him up and cart him in here?'
'No,' Connie said. 'I want you to bring me a copy of his death certificate, so we can close the case and get our money back.'
'Oh,' Joyce said. 'I didn't know I could do that.'
'I don't like being called a fatso,' Lula said. 'I think you should apologize.'
'If the shoe fits,' Joyce said. 'Or in your case, if nothing but a tent fits…'
'I'm not that fat,' Lula said. 'I'm just a big woman. I'm Rubenesque. You wouldn't know that because you're ignorant. I know all about it because I took an art course at the community college last semester.'
'I know fat,' Joyce said. 'And you're fat.'
I didn't like Joyce frightening Melvin Pickle. And I didn't like Joyce calling Lula fat. And I really hated that Joyce was able to find stupid dead Willie Reese when I hadn't been able to find him.
'Hey Joyce,' I said.
Joyce turned to look at me, and I threw one of my meatballs at her. It hit her square in the forehead and
left a big splotch of marinara sauce.
'Bitch,' Joyce said, narrowing her eyes at me.
I narrowed my eyes back. 'Slut.'
'Skank'
'Hag.'
Joyce grabbed Lula's spaghetti and dumped it on my head. 'I am not a hag,' she said.
Twelve Sharp Page 11