16 Sizzling Sixteen (2 page)

Morelli took the Boston Cream out of the bag, ate half, and gave the rest to me. Word on the street is that a bunch of people are very unhappy with Vinnie. Word is he owes a lot of money. Do you need help?

Would I have to file a police report?

No, but youd have to give me the rest of the doughnut.

Thanks for the offer, but I have some leads. Ill stumble along on my own this morning and see what turns up.

Morelli gave me a quick kiss and jogged back to his car.

I looked at the two bags Lula was holding. I thought you were getting just one doughnut.

And thats exactly what I did. I got one of everything. Im telling you, this is a beauty of a diet.

We sat at the small table in front of the bakery and ate our doughnuts while I read through the files on Mickey Gritch and Bobby Sunflower.

We have home addresses for Gritch and his sister, but I cant see Gritch stashing Vinnie in either of those places, I said to Lula. That leaves Bobby Sunflowers businesses. The pawnshop is on Market Street, the car wash is in Hamilton Township, and the rest are on Stark Street. Lets do drive-bys and see if anything jumps out at us.

Might as well do the car wash first, Lula said. If I like the looks of it, I might let them wash my Firebird.

TWO

BOBBY SUNFLOWERS CAR wash was next to Figaroa Diner. It didnt look like it had a lot of room for holding a bail bondsman hostage, but it advertised brushless washing and personal attention, so Lula got into line.

I dont know about this car wash, I said to Lula. I dont like the looks of the attendants.

You mean on account of theyre waggin their tongues at us and making kissey sounds?

Yeah. Plus the multiple piercings, tattoos, ridiculous homey pants, and I was pretty sure one of them had a boner.

Theyre just bein boys, Lula said.

I looked in my bag to see if I had pepper spray or a stun gun.

The pack of idiots swaggered over to us, and one leaned in the window at Lula.

Hey, momma, he said. We gonna wash your car like it never been washed before.

You be nice to me and my boys, and well wash your baby by hand.

How nice do I gotta be? Lula asked.

Real nice, he said, smiling wide so we could see he had industrial-grade diamonds embedded in his decayed teeth.

Thats disgusting, Lula said. You need to show some respect and act like professional car washers. And get your head out of my window.

I think me and my boys need to show you what we got and maybe we teach you some respect.

Lula pulled her Glock out of her purse and stuck it in his face.

You got ten seconds before I blow your nose off, Lula said.

Yow, momma! the guy said.

They all turned and ran, and Lula squeezed off six rounds, managing to miss all of the car washers at pretty much point-blank range.

Hunh, Lula said, rolling her window up and driving out of the lot. They dont make these guns like they used to. I cant believe I didnt hit a single one of those fools.

Next stop was the pawnshop. Lula parked on the street, and we got out and looked around. There was an apartment above the shop, but so far as we knew, it wasnt owned by Sunflower. A consignment store was to one side of the pawnshop and a pizza place was to the other side.

This doesnt look promising, I said to Lula, but Im going to go in and scope it out.

Who am I? Lula wanted to know. Am I good cop or bad cop?

Youre nothing. Theres no cop. Were just browsing and leaving.

No problemo. I can do that. Im a excellent browser.

We went inside the pawnshop, Lula walked up to the counter, looked in the display case, and called the pawnshop guy over.

Its not like I need the money or anything, but I was wondering how much I could get for this ring I got on, Lula said. As you could see, its got a ruby in the middle with some diamond chips around the edge. And its in a genuine gold setting.

Is that a real stone? he asked her.

You bet your ass its real. A gentleman gave me this ring for certain favors. He bought it for his wife but decided I earned it.

Say what?

I guess I could give you forty-five.

Forty-five hundred? Lula asked.

No, just forty-five. Cripes, lady, what do I look like, a sap?

No, you look kinda hot, Lula said, leaning her boobs on the counter. What have you got in that back room, sugar?

Theres no back room. Just a bathroom that even I wont use.

Movin on, Lula said. And she turned on her heel and sashayed out of the pawnshop.

Ten minutes later, we were idling in front of Sunflowers garage on lower Stark. It was a one-story cinder-block structure with three bays, all doors open.

I cant see them keeping Vinnie here, I said to Lula. There are too many people around, and theres no space to hide someone.

Next stop was the topless bar. The neon sign was flashing, and electronic dance music dribbled out the open door. A wasted guy in a baggy white T-shirt leaned against the graffiti-covered building, smoking. He looked at us through slitted eyes, and Lula drove on.

Nothing but trouble there, she said.

We parked in front of the mortuary and stared at the building. Brown brick, two stories. Upper windows were blacked out. There was a magenta-and-black awning over the door, and MELON FUNERAL PARLOR was written on the awning.

I dont know whats more depressing, Lula said, this dreary-ass funeral home or a titty bar in the morning.

Maybe the bar was serving breakfast.

I didnt think of that, Lula said. I guess that would be okay.

This place has real hostage potential. Id go in and pretend Im a customer, but I dont look like I belong in this neighborhood.

You mean on account of youre the only white woman on this whole street, dead or alive?

Yeah.

I see your point, but Im not going in there. I hate funeral parlors, and I hate dead people even more. I get the creepy crawlies just sitting here thinking about it.

The apartment building was half a block away and looked like the Tower of Terror. It was four stories tall, black with grime, and slightly lopsided.

Holy bejeezus, Lula said, eyes bugged out, looking at the building. This is scaring the crap out of me. This is like where Dracula would live if he didnt have any money and was a crack head. I bet its filled with rabid bats and killer snakes and hairy spiders as big as dinner plates.

I thought it looked like it would be filled with despair and craziness and broken plumbing. Either way, it wasnt anywhere I wanted to go. Unfortunately, it was also a good place to stash Vinnie.

How bad do we want to find Vinnie? I asked Lula, unable to take my eyes off the hellish building.

The way I see it, either we find Vinnie, or Im gonna be working the fry basket at Cluck-in-a-Bucket. Not that theres anything wrong with the fry basket, but all that grease floatin in the air isnt gonna be good for my hairdo. And what if they already got someone working the fry basket? What if I cant get another job and they come repossess my Via Spigas?

And what if I dont come through, and they kill Vinnie? How could I live with that? I thought.

I speed-dialed Rangers cell phone.

Ranger picked up and there was a moment of silence as if he was sensing me at the other end, taking my body temperature and heart rate long distance. Babe, he finally said.

Do you know the slum apartment building Bobby Sunflower owns on Stark?

Yes. Its on the same block as his funeral home.

Thats the one. Im going in to look for someone. If you dont hear from me in a half hour, maybe you could send someone to check.

Is this a smart thing to do?

Probably not.

As long as you know, Ranger said. And he disconnected.

I got two doughnuts left, Lula said, and Im eating them before I go in just in case I dont come out.

I angled out of the Firebird. Take them with you. If I dont go in now, Ill chicken out.

The front door was ajar, leading to a small, dark foyer spray-painted with a bunch of gang symbols. Stairs going up to the left. A bank of mailboxes to the right. No names on the mailboxes. Most were open and empty. Some didnt have doors at all. The message was clear. If you lived here, you didnt get mail.

Two doors led off the foyer. Lula and I listened at the doors. Nothing. I tried one of the doors. Locked. The second door opened to cellar stairs.

Lula poked her head in the doorway. Theres stairs going down, but I cant see nothing. Its blackern night down there. Dont smell too good, either.

Yeah, I hear it, too. Kinda squeaky.

And then a tsunami of rats swept up the stairs and over our feet.

Rats! Lula yelled. Rats!

I was frozen to the spot, too horrified to move. Lula was dancing, arms in the air, shrieking. The rats were wall to wall, scrambling around in a pack, filling the foyer.

Kill em. Kick em, Lula said. Help! Police! Call 911.

I snatched the bakery bag out of her hand and pitched a doughnut out the front door. The rats ran after the doughnut, and I slammed the door shut behind them.

Lula collapsed against the wall. Do I look like Im having a heart attack? Did I get bit? Do I have fleas? She took the bag back from me and looked inside. At least you didnt throw the jelly doughnut. I was saving that one for last.

I closed the cellar door and took to the stairs. There were three doors on the second floor. Two were nailed shut with crisscrossed boards. No sound from inside. The third was open, and the one-room apartment was empty of people and furniture but filled with garbage.

Im going home and taking a shower when were done here, Lula said. I feel like I got cooties.

The third floor had three doors, and all were closed. We need a plan, I said to Lula.

You mean like I be the Girl Scout cookie girl?

Yeah.

What if Vinnies in there and hes with some of Sunflowers stooges? We shoot them, right?

Only if we have to.

Lula took her Glock out of her bag and stuffed it into her pants, snug to her backbone. She looked at me. Dont you want to get your gun ready to go?

I dont have a gun.

What have you got?

Hairspray.

Is it firm hold? I might need some when were done here, depending on what we do for lunch.

Yeah? he said.

Im sellin Girl Scout cookies, Lula said, looking past the fat guy into his room.

Arent you sorta old to be a Girl Scout?

Not that its any of your business, but Im doing this for my niece, Lula said. She got a intestinal disturbance and couldnt make her quota, so Im helping out.

Whats in the bakery bag?

Thats none of your business, either. Are you gonna buy cookies, or what?

The guy snatched Lulas doughnut bag, slammed the door closed, and locked it.

Hey! Lula said. You give me back my bag. She put her ear to the door. I hear the bag rustling! He better not be fingering my doughnut. Lula pounded on the door. Give me my doughnut back or else.

Too late, he said through the door. I ate it.

Oh yeah, well, eat this, Lula said. And she hauled her Glock out and drilled a bunch of rounds into the door.

Holy crap! I yelled, rushing at Lula. Stop shooting. You cant just shoot up someones door over a doughnut. You could kill the guy.

Damn, Lula said. Im outta bullets. She scrounged around in her purse. I know a got a extra clip in here somewhere.

The door banged open and the fat guy looked out at us and ratcheted the slide back on a sawed-off shotgun. He took aim, and I blasted him with hairspray.

Yow! he hollered, rubbing at his eyes. Shit, that stings.

Lula and I flew down the stairs. We took one flight, rounded the corner for the second flight, and crashed into two of Rangers men on their way up. We hit them with enough force to knock them off balance, and we all went ass-over-teakettles, rolling in a pack to the foyer floor.

Jeez, I said, getting to my feet. Im sorry. I didnt expect anyone to be on the stairs.

I knew one of the guys. His name was Hal. He was a real sweetie, and he was built like a stegosaurus.

Ranger sent us to check on you, Hal said. We just got here, and we heard shots.

Some moron ate my jelly doughnut, Lula said. So I shot him.

Like a body? I asked.

Yeah, Hal said.

Thanks, but not necessary, I told him. Lula shot through the door, and the moron came after us with a sawed-off.

Gotcha, Hal said. Ill pass it on to Ranger.

Hal and his partner got into their shiny black SUV, and Lula and I got into the Firebird, and we all drove off.

Its too bad we didnt get to check out all the apartments, Lula said, on account of I had a real feeling about that place. I could see Vinnie getting hid there.

I thought the apartment building was too obvious. I didnt know Bobby Sunflower personally, but from everything Id heard, he didnt sound like a dope. If Bobby Sunflower was behind this, probably Vinnie wasnt on one of Sunflowers properties. People like Sunflower had their fingers in lots of pies, and thats where I thought Vinnie was being kept . . . In one of Sunflowers pies.

Now what? Lula wanted to know.

Drop me at Rangeman.

THREE

RANGEMAN IS HOUSED in a discreet seven-story building on a quiet side street in Trenton proper. If you didnt look closely, you wouldnt notice the small brass plaque by the side of the door that simply states RANGEMAN. No other sign identifies the business. Rangers private lair occupies the top floor. Two more floors are dedicated to employee apartments, and the remainder of the building runs the security operation. Rangeman services private residences and commercial properties for clients who need a high level of protection. Plus, Rangeman does the occasional odd job of guarding bodies, finding bodies, and possibly eliminating bodies.

Ranger was my mentor when I first went to work for my cousin Vinnie. I suppose hes still my mentor, but now hes also my friend, my protector, from time to time hes been my employer, and on one spectacularly memorable occasion, he was my lover. I have an electronic key to the underground garage and to Rangers private apartment. It also gives me access to the building, but today I let the guy at the first-floor reception desk buzz me in. I took the elevator to the control room and walked past the cubbies and consoles, waving to men I knew.

Rangers office was a few steps down the hall. He was on the computer when I walked in, and he smiled when he saw me. A big thing for Ranger, since he doesnt do a lot of smiling. He was dressed in Rangeman black T-shirt, cargo pants, and running shoes. Everyone in the building was dressed exactly like this, but Rangers clothes fit him better. Possibly because Ranger was clearly at the front of the line when God was handing out the good body parts. You could dress Ranger in a black plastic garbage bag, and hed still look hot.

I need a tracking lesson, I said to Ranger. You know how you always know my location? I want to be able to do that. I want to put one of those gizmos on someones car.

I can give you the gizmo, Ranger said. And I can show you how to install it, but it wont do you any good if you cant receive the signals. It would be easier and less expensive if you let me track this person for you.

That would be great. I need to know where Mickey Gritch is going. Hes kidnapped Vinnie, and I have to get Vinnie back.

Why?

I blew out a sigh. Its the right thing to do.

Ranger opened his desk drawer, took out a set of keys, and tossed them to me. You need a car.