Twisted Twenty-Six (Stephanie Plum 26)

by Janet Evanovich

  Although, I had to admit I enjoyed taking down Charlie Shine with Ranger and Tank. It was nice to be part of a professional team. Nice to get the job done without a screwup and a skinned knee. And I was able to get Charlie Shine behind bars, where he wasn’t a threat to Grandma.

  I was still wearing the baggy boyfriend jeans because there was nothing else in my closet. I had to do laundry, and I should go shopping. I was short on work clothes. Thanks to Steven Cross I had some money.

  Thirty minutes later, I was in Macy’s. Buying jeans is a no-brainer. I always wear the same thing. Nothing fancy. After jeans it’s more of a struggle. I was looking at a red dress with a short swirly skirt when Carol Joyce walked up to me.

  “You don’t want that dress,” he said. “It’s all wrong for you, and it’s not well made. Not worth the money.”

  I gave up a moment of stunned silence before my brain kicked in.

  “Carol Joyce?”

  “Yes. And I’m going to save you the trouble of trying this disaster on. Trust me. I’m good at this. It’s one of the reasons I’m so successful. I only steal quality merchandise.”

  “You’re serious? You risked getting cuffed to tell me this?”

  “I don’t feel it’s much of a risk. I can easily outrun you. And to be honest, the game is getting boring. I’m thinking of turning myself in and getting the whole court thing over and done. It’s my first offense, and there weren’t any high-end items involved. I expect I’ll get a slap on the wrist.”

  “Why do you shoplift?” I asked him. “Why don’t you get a real job?”

  “This is a real job. I average a yearly salary of mid-six figures.”

  “But why shoplifting?”

  “I’m good at it. I started doing it in high school as a stunt and discovered I had a real talent for it.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to do something else? Move up the ladder?”

  “No.”

  “You have no dreams? No aspirations?”

  “No. I like what I’m doing.”

  “It’s illegal.”

  “Yes. That’s unfortunate.”

  “What about if you get married and have kids? What will you tell them?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose that could be a game changer.”

  We had a couple beats of silence while we thought about that.

  “So, why don’t you like this red dress?” I asked him.

  “It’s too short. It’s going to hit your leg in an odd spot and be unflattering. The color isn’t wonderful for your complexion. You would look best in a blue red. This is an orange red. And finally, I don’t like the cut of the neckline. I would like to see you in a scoop neck.”

  “Wow. That’s amazing. I looked at it and all I saw was that it was cute. Your mother thinks you’re a personal shopper. Maybe that’s your true calling.”

  “I have a couple clients, but I do it more as a personal favor than a profession. It’s just not as satisfying as shoplifting.”

  I put the red dress back on the rack. “What dress would you suggest?”

  He pulled out a deep blue silk shirtwaist. “It doesn’t have a scoop neck, but it’s very classy and at the same time it’s sexy because of the way the silk drapes and moves. It’s a little expensive but I can put it in my bag for you.”

  “No! I wouldn’t want you to do that.” I took the dress from him. “It’s nice, but I’m not sure about the style.”

  “Try it,” he said. “I think you’ll be surprised.”

  I tried the dress on, and it was perfect. It felt elegant and sexy, and it was comfortable. I put my baggy jeans back on, left the dressing room, and Carol was gone. Vanished. Crap. Truth is, I wasn’t that surprised. And I didn’t much care, although it would have been fun to do more shopping with him. I bought the dress and was pulling out of the shopping center parking lot when my mother called.

  “Usually we see you and Joseph for dinner on Fridays,” she said. “Last week was a wash because . . . you know. So, I’m just checking before we set the table.”

  “Sure, we’ll be there for dinner,” I said. “I’m almost positive.”

  “Six o’clock,” she said. “We’re having pot roast.”

  I hung up and called Morelli. “Dinner at six o’clock at my parents’ house?”

  “Sounds good. Gazarra told me about Grandma. He made me promise not to tell anyone.”

  “He’s the best. I also brought Charlie Shine in. I was hoping for no bail, but the judge chose to set a super high amount instead.”

  “I heard. Shine’s lawyer is looking for money. I’m told he’s liquidating some of Shine’s assets so Shine can post his own bond.”

  “That would be a real bummer. That would defeat my purpose for apprehending him.”

  I hauled my laundry basket into my parents’ house just before six o’clock. I was wearing new jeans and a new long-sleeved, scoop neck, silky-feeling sweater that Carol had dropped into my jeans bag without me noticing. The price tag was still on the sweater. $175.00. I was now aiding and abetting a shoplifter. Screw it. I didn’t care. It was a great sweater, and I had bigger fish to fry.

  “Don’t you look pretty,” Grandma said when I walked into the kitchen. “Is that a new sweater?”

  “Yes. And new jeans.”

  “You must be doing good at work.”

  I smiled at the irony of that. Just when I decide that I hate my job, I have the best week ever.

  My mother was working at the stove, and the kitchen was heavy with the smell of meat and gravy. I looked in the fridge. Pineapple upside-down cake smothered in whipped cream. This meal was a mainstay of my life and almost as good as sex. Okay, who was I kidding? This was as good if not better than sex. And I could enjoy it without reciprocating.

  Morelli walked in, and my mom and grandmother got all smiles. They liked Morelli. They would like me to marry him and make a bunch of little Morellis. Grandma also liked Ranger, but not to marry.

  “This is my favorite meal,” Morelli said to my mom. “I could smell the gravy when I parked my car.”

  “You’re just in time,” she said.

  She poured the gravy into the gravy boat and handed it over to me. Grandma took the bowl of mashed potatoes. My father was already at the table. My mother set the pot roast platter in front of him. He had the carving knife and fork in hand. We were Catholic and my mother and grandmother went to Mass almost daily, but we didn’t say grace. We assumed God knew our thoughts when it came to food. We were thankful, we wanted world peace, yadda yadda yadda.

  Morelli always sat next to me. Grandma was across from me. My mom and dad were at either end of the table. This was a good arrangement because Grandma was a reach for my dad if she went off on aliens doing anal probes on humans and he decided he had to stab her with the meat fork.

  “What are you working on now?” Grandma asked Morelli. “Did you ever find out about the guy who tried to kidnap me? The dead one with the red shoes.”

  “We’re running down some leads,” Morelli said.

  “So, in other words,” Grandma said. “You got nothing.”

  Morelli took a slab of pot roast and passed the platter to me. “Yep. That’s about it.”

  “I hear his body got shipped back to Newark for burial. Not even having a viewing here. That’s a shame,” Grandma said. “A lot of people would like to take a look at him. He would have drawn a good crowd.”

  My father had his head down, concentrating on his meat. My mother had emptied her iced tea glass and was gnawing on her lip, wondering if anyone would notice if she got more. Grandma had the bottle of red wine in front of her and poured out a glass.

  “Who wants wine?” she asked.

  Morelli and I raised our hands.

  By the time the pineapple upside-down cake came out, I’d had three glasses of wine and my lips were numb.

  “Did you see I’m wearing a special medallion necklace?” Grandma said to Morelli. “If you press it, like this, people know where you are.”r />
  Morelli whipped his phone out and called Ranger’s control room. “That was a test drive,” he said. “No reason to respond.”

  He stayed on the line for a couple beats and then said, “Hunh, for real?” He looked over at Grandma. “Press it again.” Another thirty seconds of silence. Morelli turned to me. “Press your medallion.”

  I pressed it and waited.

  “So, nothing?” Morelli said to the guy in the control room.

  Morelli hung up and slid a glance at me. “They aren’t working.”

  “Probably made in China,” Grandma said.

  My mother cut the cake and passed pieces around.

  “All that technology is a bunch of crap,” my father said. “You can’t beat a baseball bat.”

  “Or an iron,” Grandma said.

  Just because I’d had three glasses of wine didn’t mean that I was stupid. I didn’t like that the medallions weren’t working.

  “What did Ranger say about the medallions?” I asked Morelli.

  “I didn’t talk to Ranger.”

  I was on my second piece of cake when Ranger came in. He sat in the chair next to Grandma and unhooked her necklace. He pressed it and spoke to his control room through an earbud. He dropped the necklace into his shirt pocket.

  “It’s not working,” he said.

  “Would you like a piece of cake?” my mother asked. “Coffee? Wine?”

  “No. I need to get back to work. I’m going to leave a Rangeman car with you for tonight.” He stood and looked at me. “I’d like to talk to you for a moment, outside.”

  I followed him out to the porch and punched him in the arm. “You wanted that piece of cake, didn’t you?”

  He grinned at me. “How much wine have you had tonight?”

  “Thwee.”

  I attempted to lean against the porch railing, misjudged the distance, and went over the railing into a hydrangea bush. Ranger picked me out of the bush and set me on my feet.

  “We can talk tomorrow,” he said.

  I smiled at him. “Okeydokey. Do you want to kiss me?”

  “Not here,” he said. “I don’t want to risk a shootout with Morelli.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  IT WAS MORNING. I was in Morelli’s bed, and I was loving the luxury of sleeping late. Morelli came in with coffee and my laundry basket. He was dressed in sweats and a T-shirt.

  “I told the guys I’d play ball with them this morning,” he said. “Bob’s been walked and fed. And your mom dropped your laundry basket off on her way to church.” He handed me the coffee, kissed me on the top of my head, and left.

  I sat up in bed and drank my coffee, thinking this was nice. This was the way life should be. Drinking coffee in bed on a Saturday morning. I finished my coffee, took a shower, and went downstairs. I allowed myself the extra treat of toasting my frozen waffle, had a second cup of coffee, and was ready to start my day. I also had an epiphany. Maybe the reason I didn’t have a work-related passion was that I actually didn’t want to work at all. I had a passion for doing nothing. Now that I realized this, I just had to find a way to get paid for it.

  I drove past my parents’ house on my way to the office. The Rangeman SUV was parked at the curb, and I didn’t see any crazy old Italian men skulking around. It was all good.

  Lula and Connie were listening to police chatter when I walked in.

  “Richie is on another roof,” Connie said. “They’re trying to get him in the bucket, but he says he’s waiting for his dragon to return.”

  “I’ll say it again,” Lula said. “That boy needs a more reliable dragon.”

  Connie and I looked at Lula.

  “You don’t really think he has a flying dragon, do you?” Connie asked Lula.

  Lula leaned forward and cocked her head, eyebrows up. “Have you got a better explanation?”

  “No,” Connie said.

  Lula sat back. “There you have it. Boom.”

  “Anything new come in?” I asked Connie.

  “No, but it’s early. Oliver Turkel had his hearing yesterday, and he has a history of no-shows.”

  “I remember him,” Lula said. “He’s the guy who robs people and then moons them. It’s his trademark move. Last time we brought him in, he mooned Stephanie and me. I even got it videoed on my phone.”

  “Something to look forward to seeing,” Connie said.

  “Yeah, but I doubt he’ll moon us again,” Lula said. “Stephanie tagged him on his bare ass with her stun gun, and he went down like a sack of cement. And then he wet himself.” Lula shook her head. “It wasn’t a real pretty sight.”

  I did an involuntary shiver at the memory.

  “I’m still up for finding the shoplifter,” Lula said. “I vote we ride around and look for him. And we could ride down Maple Street and see if Richie is still on the roof. It’s not far from where Carol Joyce lives.”

  This sounded like a decent activity. It was a nice day to go cruising around. And I didn’t think anything would come of it. We could look for Carol for a couple hours, have lunch, and then I’d quit for the day and go back to Morelli’s house to get my laundry. Maybe Morelli would want to go to the shore.

  We started by checking out Richie Meister. He was still on the roof, and traffic was snarled for blocks.

  “I can see the hook and ladder,” Lula said. “They got the big ladder up.”

  “Do you see any dragons?”

  “Nope. Not a single one.”

  I circled around the Richie mess and drove past the Joyce house. No SUV in the driveway, thank goodness. I wasn’t in a mood to arrest Carol Joyce.

  “I’ve been thinking about our job,” Lula said. “And how you don’t like it anymore. And I think it’s that we aren’t badass like Ranger and Tank. You know what the difference is between them and us?”

  “How much time do I have to answer?”

  “The difference is we haven’t got a badass uniform. We’re just as good as them, but they got the uniform, you see what I’m saying? Even Dog got a badass uniform. Okay, so his hair needs some help, but he’s got the black leather thing working for him.”

  “I can’t see you wearing a uniform every day.”

  “I would have to personalize it. Like I could bedazzle it.”

  “I have a uniform,” I said. “I’m wearing it.”

  “See that’s your problem. You need some enthusiasm, and there’s no enthusiasm to those clothes. Only thing on you that’s got enthusiasm is your hair extensions, and they’re starting to fall out. We got to get you new extensions. I’m thinking fire red next time. That’s a power color.”

  “It’s not the clothes or the lack of extensions,” I said. “It’s what we see. It’s Oliver Turkel.”

  “Oliver Turkel was great,” Lula said. “You got him square on his ass, and he peed himself like a big dog. Sometimes when I need a laugh, I replay that video.”

  “It isn’t funny. It’s disgusting and horrible.”

  “Yeah, but it’s funny in a disgusting and horrible way. You got to put things into perspective.”

  I got to Quaker Bridge Mall and drove up and down the aisles. No Escalade with Carol’s plate number. So far, my luck was holding. I left the lot and returned to Route One, and my mother called.

  “She’s gone,” she said, and the shaky note of hysteria in her voice sent an instant chill through me.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m home. We were at the bake sale at the church and she disappeared. She went to use the restroom and never came back. I tried calling her, but she wasn’t answering. Then I thought maybe we got our signals crossed, and she thought she was supposed to walk home.”

  “How long has she been gone?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t think. Thirty minutes, maybe. Ranger’s got everyone looking for her. The young men in the car felt terrible, but it wasn’t their fault. She must have gone out through the side door.”

  “Are you sure she’s not in the church? There are lot
s of rooms.”

  “I don’t know why she would be someplace other than the restroom, but I guess it’s possible.”

  “I’m on Route One. I’ll be home soon.”

  I hung up and called Morelli.

  He answered on the first ring. “I just heard,” he said. “Ranger called. I’m sending some guys over to help them sweep the church. I’m heading there now.”

  “Is anyone with my mom?”

  “Ranger has two men with her.”

  I’d taken the call on speakerphone, and Lula had been listening in.

  “What can I do?” she asked.

  “I’m going to drop you at the office. Tell Connie to start making phone calls. And then you can ride around the streets.”

  Morelli and Ranger were huddled in the vestibule when I walked into the church.

  “Anything?” I asked.

  “We’re questioning everyone who was here to see if they saw or heard anything,” Morelli said. “We have a team going room to room. So far, the church is clean. We haven’t been able to find any signs to indicate struggle.”

  I looked around. “Are there security cameras?”

  “No,” Morelli said. “They have an alarm system that they use at night, but there are no cameras.”

  One of Ranger’s men came up to him.

  “We found this behind a trash receptacle by the side door,” he said.

  It was Grandma’s big black patent leather purse. I looked inside, and her gun was still there. Her cellphone was tucked into a side compartment.

  I had to take a couple breaths to steady myself. This wasn’t a time to disintegrate into an emotional basket case.

  “Are you okay?” Morelli asked.

  I nodded. “I needed a moment.”

  “Understood,” Morelli said.

  “Where do we go from here?” I asked.

  “I’m going to talk to the La-Z-Boys and explain the realities of life to them,” Morelli said. “You and Ranger can work the Lucca angle.”

  “I need to check in with my mom,” I said to Ranger.

  “I’ll meet you at the house. I want to give some instructions to my men.”

  It was a short drive, and I took it slow, scanning yards, taking notice of car occupants. I parked in the driveway behind my mom’s car. The Rangeman SUV was at the curb. My dad was pacing in the living room.