Chapter Seventeen
I drove back to my apartment, said hello to Sir Lancelot, thanked him for guarding my life, and told him he could go home to his bride. I liked that these guys wanted to pitch in and help, but I worried about their abilities if they came up against armed kidnappers. I didn’t want them hurt.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I don’t mind staying,” Lancelot said.
“I’m friends with the man who owns Rangeman Security, and he has men watching out for me too. Tell Benji and Carpenter that I appreciate your help, but I think I’m safe now.”
“Cool. I’ll let them know and if anything changes you can call us.”
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I went inside and ate a tablespoon of peanut butter and five olives out of the jar because I was too tired to make a sandwich.
I tapped on Rex’s cage and said howdy. He stuck his head out of his soup can, gave me a once-over, and went back into his can.
I thought it would be nice if I could do that. I felt like crawling into a can and sleeping until my life improved. I shuffled into the bathroom and stood under the shower until the water turned cold. I halfway dried my hair, got dressed in my comfy jeans and a Rangers jersey, and called ahead to Pino’s for a pizza, extra-large with the works, extra cheese.
I was feeling better after the shower, and I was looking forward to the pizza. I couldn’t get overly excited about a preseason game, but I knew it would take my mind off Vinnie. I didn’t want to think about Vinnie because I had no way to help him. He was in a horrible place.
We’d called Vinnie’s father-in-law and the owner of the bail bonds business, Harry the Hammer, but Harry and Vinnie’s wife, Lucille, were in the process of leaving for Aruba with some of Harry’s business associates. I didn’t think I could go to Aruba if my husband was missing, but that’s just me. Okay, let’s be honest, I couldn’t go if my hamster, Rex, was missing.
I grabbed a sweatshirt and my messenger bag and went downstairs and got behind the wheel of my Whatever. Raul and Bek were parked nearby but I didn’t wave to them in case I was being stalked by the bad guys. No bad guys showed up, so I called Ranger.
“I know you’re trying to keep me safe,” I said, “but we need the kidnapper to make a move, and he’s not going to make a move as long as I have a big, black, shiny SUV following me. I’m totally wired with the necklace and whatever other illegal devices you’ve planted on me. I have your gun, loaded and handy. I’m going to Pino’s to pick up a pizza and then I’m going to Morelli’s to watch the Rangers game. I think you should retire the SUV escort. At least for the night.”
What I didn’t say was that it would feel creepy to have the Rangeman SUV sitting outside Morelli’s house while I was inside with Morelli, probably spending the night.
“You have a red button on your dash, next to the ignition. If there’s a problem, press the red button.”
I looked at the dash. Sure enough there was a red button next to the ignition.
“What does the red button do?” I asked him.
“Your lights flash, an alarm goes off, and a signal is sent directly to my control room.”
“Good to know,” I said.
The Rangeman SUV followed me out of the lot. I chugged off to Pino’s, and Rangeman peeled off in a different direction. I relaxed with a deep breath and enjoyed the luxury of being on my own. I guess if you’re royalty or a movie star you get used to having security 24/7. I was neither of those, and security felt okay at first but claustrophobic after a day.
Pino’s lot was packed at this time of night. At the bar there would be medical workers and cops coming off rotation, families would be in booths, and people like me would be getting takeout.
I knew almost everyone who worked at Pino’s. And I knew a lot of the people who ate there. I parked, went inside, and sat close to the kitchen at the end of the bar. Sonny Mancuso looked up from his workstation, waved at me, and pulled my ticket off his counter. I went to grade school and high school with him and now he was married to my friend Jeannie and working as a line cook. He gave me a sign that meant five minutes, and I gave him a thumbs-up.
I looked around the room. Connie’s car had been parked in Pino’s lot. Impossible to know if the kidnapper was passing through and found the lot convenient or if he lived in the neighborhood. There were a couple men in the room who fit the description. Stocky, middle-aged. One of them lived across the street from my parents. Probably he wasn’t the kidnapper, although I wasn’t willing to totally rule him out.
Another chunky, middle-aged guy walked in and sat at the far end of the bar. Wavy black hair cut short. Balding. Two-day beard. Gray hooded sweatshirt. He said something to the bartender, and the bartender got a large takeout bag from the kitchen. The sweatshirt guy dropped some money on the bar and got off his bar stool. He looked my way and stared for a moment too long. He smiled and nodded and walked out.
I made communion with the bartender. He was Sonny’s cousin Boomer. I caught his eye and called him over. “Do I know the guy who just left?”
“Doubtful,” he said. “He’s not a regular. Comes in maybe once or twice a month and pays cash. Doesn’t talk to anybody.”
“He smiled at me.”
“No crime there. He probably thought you were pretty. We all do.”
Now I smiled. “You’re just saying that because I’m a big tipper, but I like it anyway.”
Sonny came out of the kitchen and handed me my pizza box. “Is Boomer hitting on you again?”
“He said I was pretty.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Sonny said. “I put the pizza on Morelli’s card, and I gave myself a tip.”
“Perfect.”
“You watching the Rangers tonight?”
“How could you tell?”
“You got a ninety-three on your back,” Sonny said. “Good choice.”
I grabbed my extra-large pizza with two hands, pushed the dining room door open, and walked out into the lot. It was a perfect night. Clear sky with a sliver of moon. Cool enough for a sweatshirt. I got to my car and couldn’t open the door while I was holding the giant pizza box. I was about to set it on the roof of the Whatever when I heard a footfall behind me. I turned in time to see a guy in a hoodie reach out with a stun gun. He tagged me but he only got my oversized jersey. He reached out again with the stun gun but I smashed him in the face with the pizza box and kicked him somewhere in the private area. He doubled over and staggered back a couple steps and I hit him again with the pizza. I pulled Ranger’s gun out of my messenger bag, but the guy tackled me before I could aim. We both went down to the ground and the gun discharged, kicking back into my face. I was momentarily stunned, and when my vision cleared, he was getting into a car on the other side of the lot. I grabbed my cell phone and snapped a picture as he was leaving. I was tempted to take a shot at the car but what if it wasn’t the right car? That would be embarrassing. I picked the pizza up off the ground and put it back in the box.
I closed the box and saw that it was partially soaked in blood. I checked myself out. It didn’t seem to be my blood. I used my cell phone flashlight to follow the blood trail. Either I had given him a bloody nose when I hit him with the box or else I had accidentally shot him.
I sucked in a couple breaths to calm myself and I went back to Pino’s. I took the same seat at the end of the bar, and I put the pizza box in front of me. I was impressed with myself because my hands weren’t shaking.
Sonny came over and looked inside the pizza box. “I guess you need a new one,” he said. “Aside from the gash between your eyes and the bruise that’s forming you look okay. I’m thinking you look better than the other guy. The one who bled all over this box. Do we need to go scoop him up?”
“He got away,” I said. “Afraid there’s some blood in your parking lot.”
“Happens all the time,” Sonny said. “Not a problem.”
Boomer set a glass of red wine in front of me and handed me a towel with ice in it. “Rangers scored an early goal,” he said.
I drank some wine and put the ice on my forehead. I looked at the picture I had taken of the car. It was a Camry. You could clearly see the license plate. It didn’t have a JZ, but it had a J7. I sent the picture to Ranger.
A minute later I got a phone call.
“Babe,” Ranger said.
“Long story short, he got away, but I might have shot him. I’m waiting for my pizza and then I’m going to Morelli’s.”
“My office first thing in the morning,” Ranger said.
I finished my wine just as my new pizza was placed in front of me.
“Do you want an escort out?” Sonny asked me. “An escort out would be lovely,” I said.
Sonny grabbed a chef’s knife from the kitchen and went to the door with me. “Have you ever thought about a different line of work? Something less dangerous, like getting shot out of a cannon or being a lion tamer.”
We got to my car without getting shot or zapped, and Sonny didn’t have to stab anyone with his chef’s knife. I put the pizza on the backseat, and I got behind the wheel.
“Thanks,” I said to Sonny. “Say hi to Jeannie.”
I drove out of the lot, looked in my rearview mirror, and saw Raul follow me out. So much for security liberation.
+++
Morelli came to the door to help with the pizza box. I handed it over and Bob rushed at me, giant paws on my chest, giving me Bob kisses.
“The Rangers already made a goal,” Morelli said. “I think this is going to be a good year.”
“I heard when I was at Pino’s. Sorry I’m late. There was a problem with the pizza.”
He put the box on the coffee table. “Guard this with your life,” he said to me. “Do you want wine or beer?”
“Wine.”
Bob was instantly on high alert the minute the pizza box was set down. Bob ate everything. Shoes, upholstered furniture, underwear, anything wooden, and he especially loved pizza.
Morelli returned with wine for me and a roll of paper towels.
He took a piece of pizza and looked at my face.
“You have a gash in your forehead just above your nose and you’re getting two black eyes.”
“It was one of those accidents,” I said.
“Un-hunh.”
I ate a piece of pizza and gave Bob my crust.
Morelli opened a bottle of beer. “Do you want to tell me about the accident?”
“No,” I said. “It would be boring.”
Truth is, it was embarrassing, and I didn’t want to talk about it.
“Un-hunh.”
He chugged some beer and looked at me. “You hit yourself in the head with your gun again, didn’t you?”
“How would you know that?”
“Sonny called me. He was worried about you. He said he thought he heard a gunshot, but it was when the Rangers scored and there was a lot of noise, so he wasn’t sure until you walked in.”
“He ratted me out! That’s the last time he gets a tip.”
“He always puts it on my tab anyway,” Morelli said.
I pointed to my forehead gash. “Occupational hazard.”
“Un-hunh.”
I was really getting annoyed at hearing un-hunh, so I gave him my narrow-eyed don’t mess with me look.
“You’re such a cupcake,” he said. “I perfected that look. I made plainclothes because of that look.”
“Okay,” I said, “but my look is still pretty good.”
A strand of hair had come loose from my ponytail. He tucked it behind my ear and very gently kissed me on my nose.
“Have another piece of pizza,” he said. “I’m going to get some ice for your eyes. If they get any more swollen, you’re going to miss the game.”
Chapter Eighteen
Morelli was gone by the time I woke up. I went into the bathroom and was horrified but not surprised by what I saw. The bruises around my eyes were black and purple and green. My eyes were swollen but thankfully not swollen shut. All because of a stupid gun. No one should ever give me a loaded gun. The only one worse with a gun was Lula. Maybe Grandma. Of course, if it weren’t for the gun, I might be chained to a chemical toilet in a dark room with Vinnie right now.
I went into the bedroom, picked my clothes up off the floor, and got dressed. I made my way to the kitchen, I said good morning to Bob, and I downed a cup of coffee. It was almost eight o’clock when I left Morelli’s house.
Ranger would be in a state of disbelief that I thought this was first thing in the morning. His first thing in the morning was nighttime. I pulled away from the curb and found a Rangeman SUV in my rearview mirror. No surprise there.
I did a detour to my apartment, took a fast shower, and changed out of my Rangers jersey. My hair was still wet when I ran out of my building and got into my Whatever.
I bypassed the school bus office and went straight to Rangeman. The black Rangeman SUV was on my bumper the entire time and followed me into the underground garage. I gave the security camera at the elevator entrance the finger and stepped inside. It took me to the fifth floor.
Ranger met me at the elevator and ushered me back inside, and we went to his apartment.
“Have you had breakfast?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Just coffee.”
He called down to Ella for breakfast and he moved me into his office.
“Talk to me,” he said.
“About what?”
“The eyes for starters. I had the short version, now I want the long version.”
I gave him the long version and he was silent for a beat. “So, you accidentally discharged the gun and knocked yourself out?”
“Not knocked out! It was more like I was stunned for a second or two,” I said. “Anyway, the important thing is that I got the license plate and I actually saw this guy.”
Ella came in with a tray of food and a coffeepot. She set it on Ranger’s desk, smiled at me, and left.
I really like Ella. She irons Ranger’s sheets, supplies him with bath products that make him smell amazing, and doesn’t shoot people. At least none that I know about.
“We enhanced the picture you got of the plate, and it was obvious why we couldn’t trace it,” Ranger said. “The photo we had from the DOT camera was distorted. It wasn’t JZ. It was J7. The car is registered to Marcus Smulet. Forty-six years old, lives on Karnery Street. Divorced. Long-haul independent trucker. Doesn’t seem to own a truck. Has a spotty work history. Nothing recent. No traffic violations. The only interesting thing we found was an arrest six years ago for human trafficking. He claimed it was a humanitarian effort and he got a slap on the wrist.” Ranger pulled up a photo. “Is this the guy?”
“Yes!”
“I have people watching the house. So far there’s been no activity. The Camry isn’t on the property.”
“Jeez. I hope I didn’t kill him.”
“It would be convenient if you did, but it’s unlikely. He was able to drive away. There’s been no police chatter of finding the Camry or a body that fits Smulet’s description. He didn’t check into any of the local ERs for treatment.”
“Now what happens?”
“You eat your breakfast while I make some phone calls and then we take a look at Smulet’s house.”
+++
Karnery Street was less than a mile from Pino’s. It wasn’t in the Burg, but it felt like the Burg. Small two-story houses on small lots. Single-car detached garages.
Ranger parked his Porsche Cayenne two doors down from Smulet’s, and we sat for a moment, taking the pulse of the area. I knew Ranger had men watching behind the house and in front of the house, but I didn’t see them.
We left the Porsche and walked to Smulet’s front door. Ranger rang the bell once and knocked twice. There was no answer, so Ranger did his magic, unlocked the door, and we went inside. We pulled on gloves and methodically went through each room.
The furniture was basic. A couch and two armchairs upholstered in beige. Coffee table. Area rug, also beige. Medium-sized flat-screen television facing the couch. Walnut dining table with six chairs. Kitchen with brown granite counters and ivory cabinets. Standard appliances. Everything neat. No clutter. No houseplants. Condiments in the fridge but not a lot of food. No dirty dishes in the sink. Several takeout boxes and fast-food bags in the kitchen trash. There were three bedrooms and a bath upstairs. Two beds were made. One had been slept in. Men’s clothes in the one closet and dresser. Men’s toiletries in the bathroom.
“He sleeps here, but he doesn’t live here,” Ranger said. “He probably spends a lot of time on the road. Maybe spends time at a girlfriend’s house.”
“There wasn’t a Pino’s bag in the trash. He got takeout but he didn’t bring it back here.”
“He’ll come back here eventually,” Ranger said. “He’ll need clothes. He owns this house. He’s not going to walk away from it. Not yet. As long as he has hopes of getting his eleven million, he’s going to hang around. I’ll switch to electronic surveillance tonight.”
“What about relatives?”
“None in Trenton. There’s a brother in El Paso. A sister in Massachusetts with his parents. The brother is also a trucker. The sister works for a bank. Parents are retired.”
“It was stupid of him to try to kidnap me in Pino’s parking lot,” I said.
“He saw an opportunity,” Ranger said. “And he underestimated you.”
“I’m a killer with a pizza box.”
+++
The bus was still parked on the street, and a thick orange extension cord tethered it to an electrical outlet at the rear of the property. Lula and Connie were inside. Connie was setting up a new computer and Lula was on the couch, surfing on her phone. She looked up and grimaced when I walked in.
“Holy crap,” Lula said. “What happened to you?”
“I was sort of aiming my gun and it kicked back and got me between the eyes.”
“Again?” Lula said.
“Who were you aiming at?” Connie asked.
I took a doughnut from the box on Connie’s makeshift desk. “Marcus Smulet. He attacked me in Pino’s parking lot. I smacked him in the face with the pizza box and then I think I might have shot him. Anyway, he got away, but I was able to get a picture of his car.”
“Was it a Camry?” Lula asked. “I just know it was a Camry. Damn, girl, you’re good. Did you get the plate?”
“Yep. I got the plate,” I said. “I sent it to Ranger, and he traced it. We went through Smulet’s house but didn’t find anything useful. Smulet wasn’t there.”
“Where’s he live?” Lula asked.
“Karnery Street.”
“That’s a nice neighborhood,” she said. “You wouldn’t expect a kidnapper to be living there.”
“Knock, knock,” Grandma said from the sidewalk.
She was standing at the open door, holding a grocery bag and peering in at us.
“What happened to your eyes?” Grandma asked me. “They look terrible.”
“I was jumped in Pino’s parking lot,” I said.
“She got off a shot and hit herself in the head with her gun,” Lula said.
“Again?” Grandma said. “What about the jumper?”
“He got away,” I said.
Grandma stepped inside.
“I heard about the mobile office at the deli so I came to take a look. I always wanted one of these. It’s got everything you need and it’s on wheels so you can go wherever you want. If I had a driver’s license, I’d get one.”
“It needs some fixing up,” Lula said, “but it has potential.”
“It has no potential,” Connie said. “It’s rusting out from under us.”
“Yeah, but it has temporary potential,” Lula said.
We all agreed that it had temporary potential, especially since we had no other alternatives.
“I don’t want to go scouting new office locations without Vinnie or Harry getting involved,” Connie said. “And neither of them is available.”
“This isn’t so bad, short-term,” Lula said. “I found my stash of Star magazines this morning. And you can’t hardly smell the mouse anymore.”
“Are you taking it on the open road?” Grandma asked.
“It won’t go on the open road in its present condition,” Lula said. “It has a leakage issue.”
“Leakage is a bummer,” Grandma said.
“We have to at least move the bus to the back of the property,” Connie said. “The city won’t let us stay on the road.”
“Let’s do it,” Grandma said. “I want to go for a ride.”
“I’m all about it,” Lula said.
“Will it make it around the block?” Connie asked.
“I drove it here from the junkyard, and I only had to add motor oil once,” Lula said.
I jumped out and pulled the plug on the electric and Lula added motor oil. Grandma and Connie sat at the small built-in table, and Lula got behind the wheel.
“Here we go,” Lula said.
There was a lot of grinding noise and the bus inched forward. We turned the corner, and the bus coughed a couple times and stopped. We all got out to take a look. Motor oil was running in a steady stream from under the bus.
“This isn’t good,” Lula said. “I used all my cans.”
The Rangeman SUV pulled up behind us and two Rangemen got out. I knew both of them. Hal and Rodriguez.
“What’s up?” Hal asked.
“We’re trying to move the bus to the back of the property, but it’s sprung a leak,” Lula said.
“We’ll give you a push,” Hal said. “Get behind the wheel and make sure it’s in neutral, brake off.”
We got the bus situated in the small lot, and I got out to thank Hal.
“No problem,” he said. “There aren’t parking spaces back here now that the bus is in place. We’re going to have to hang on the street, but we’ll still be able to see you.”
We were all going to have to park on the street and then we would either have to pick our way through the debris or walk around the block. There was no parking on the side street. It wasn’t ideal but it wasn’t at the top of my list of things freaking me out.
I pulled the monstrous orange electric cord over the jumble of roof shingles and collapsed ceiling and plugged it into the bus.
“We got power,” Lula yelled. “It’s all good.”
I was glad Lula was happy, but I didn’t think it was all good. I was officially on overtime in my attempt to rescue Vinnie. He was being held hostage by men who were increasingly desperate, and I had two black eyes and a dubious future.
“That was fun, but now I need to get my groceries home,” Grandma said to me. “I was hoping you’d give me a ride. You need to pick up your laundry anyway. Your mom has it all folded and ironed.”
“She’s going to go nuts when she sees my eyes and the gash on my nose.”
“That’s a fact, but you might as well get it over with. Your face isn’t going to improve for at least two weeks.”
I drove Grandma home and followed her into the house. My dad was still out with the cab. My mom was in the kitchen knitting. She looked up when I walked in. She shook her head and threw her hands in the air, still holding tight to her knitting needles.
“You hit yourself in the head with your gun again, didn’t you?” she said. “Who did you shoot this time?”
“I think it was the kidnapper, but I’m not sure I shot him.”
“Omigod,” she said, “the kidnapper. He’s after you? How do you get into these situations? No wonder no one wants to marry you.”
“People want to marry me,” I said.
“Who?” my mom asked.
“Remember the butcher, what’s his name? He wanted to marry me.”
“You shouldn’t have passed him up,” my mom said. “He was a good man.”
“He gave us rump roasts and lamb chops,” Grandma said. “All the best cuts.”
A shiver ran down my spine, thinking about the butcher. He spent his day stuffing giblets up turkey butts and he had big drooly lips like a giant grouper.
