22 Tricky Twenty-Two (10 page)

LULA AND I
parked in the student center lot at nine-thirty and walked across campus to the Zeta house. It was a dark moonless night. It was midweek and you might think Kiltman students would all be studying. Wrong. Half of Kiltman was at the Zeta house. Lights were blazing and a band was playing. We walked onto the porch and looked in at the band. Keyboard, two guitars, and a drummer.

“They aren’t bad,” Lula said, “but that drummer isn’t no Brian Dunne.”

“Do you see anyone in there who looks like Christopher Robin?”

“No. It’s too packed to see anything.”

We left the porch and walked around the side of the house. Gobbles said he’d meet me in the back. It was pitch-black at the back of the house. No exterior lighting and not a lot of light spilling out windows. They had a bunch of bushes that hadn’t been maintained.

“I need a flashlight,” Lula said. “I can’t freakin’ see where I’m going.”

It didn’t help that she was wearing platform FMPs.

“I think you’re heading into the bushes,” I said. “Go right.”

“How far right? Where are you? Oh shit!”

There was the sound of Lula crashing into a bush, a grunt, and silence.

I flicked the flashlight app on my cellphone and aimed it at Lula. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I tripped over something. God knows what these loser college kids leave laying around.”

I played the light from the phone around Lula. She was sprawled on the ground, and it was clear that she’d tripped over a body. The body was on its back, had an arm in a sling, and a hole in its head. It was Mintner, and I was pretty sure he was dead. His eyes were open but fixed, and he’d leaked a lot of blood. A bolt of cold fear and revulsion ripped through me, and I swallowed back a rush of nausea.

“M-m-mintner,” I said.

“Say what?”

“You tripped over Dean Mintner. I think he’s dead.”

I had my light trained on the body, but my hand was shaking, and the light was dancing around.

Lula scrambled away and jumped to her feet. “Holy shit. Holy crap. Damnation. I hate dead people. I’m gonna have the creeps. I touched him. I’m gonna have the death cooties. I need a shower. I need a cheeseburger. Someone get me fries.”

I shut the flashlight app off and called Morelli.

“I’m at the Zeta house,” I said. “Lula and I were walking around the house, looking for Gobbles, and Lula tripped over Dean Mintner. I’m pretty sure he’s dead. Okay, I’m positive he’s dead. He’s got a bullet hole in his head.”

I hung up with Morelli and flashed the light around the area. I didn’t see any more bodies, dead or otherwise.

“He’s on his way,” I said to Lula. “And he’s sending a uniform. Give me your gun, and I’ll stay here. You go out to the road and wait for the uniform.”

Lula handed her gun over. “You know how to use this, right?”

“Sort of.”

If I was going to keep working for Vinnie, I was going to have to learn some skills. Some self-defense moves. And I needed to be more comfortable with a variety of firearms. I needed to at least be able to confiscate a gun and make sure I didn’t shoot myself in the process.

I was taking a lot of deep breaths, trying to calm myself. I had the flashlight app off, and I was standing in total darkness. I was listening for a footfall, but my heart was beating so loud in my ears, I wasn’t sure I could hear an elephant approaching. My fear was that I was in the shooter’s sights. That some nutcase serial killer freak was in the shadows, thinking maybe he should kill me, too. I’d moved away from the body, but I didn’t want to leave and chance that the crime scene would be disturbed. Or that the body would disappear.

I saw police strobes flash in the sky, and moments later I heard Lula talking, and I saw the glare of the Maglite the cop was carrying. I put the gun on the ground and stepped away.

I knew the cop. Eddie Gazarra. I went to high school with him, and now he was married to my cousin Shirley the Whiner.

“Lula’s gun is on the ground,” I said. “You don’t want to mistake it for the murder weapon. Maybe you want to let her put it back in her purse.”

Eddie flicked a beam of light on the gun. “Is it legal?”

“Is your momma?” Lula asked him.

“I never saw that gun,” Eddie said, moving the light over to the body.

Thirty minutes later the area was secure. It had been roped off with crime scene tape and lights had been set up. The band had packed up and gone home. The students attending the party were detained in the Zeta house. They’d be questioned one by one and released. The side yard was filled with EMTs, cops, a forensic photographer, the coroner, the first of the crime scene techs, and Morelli. Lula said she had the heebie-jeebies, so I sent her home.

“It looks like he hasn’t been dead long,” Morelli said to me. “So far we haven’t found anyone who heard gunshots. The band was playing. No one was in this back area. Except you.”

“Globovic asked me to meet him here at ten o’clock. He said he wanted to talk.”

“Was he here?”

“If he was, I didn’t see him. We were walking toward the back of the building, in the dark, and Lula tripped over Mintner.”

Morelli popped a couple pills into his mouth.

“Breath mints?” I asked him.

“Stomach issues.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s all your fault,” he said.

“Jeez.”

He grinned and hugged me into him. “I was kidding. It’s not all your fault. It’s only partly your fault.”

“Boy, that makes me feel a lot better. I don’t have any more to contribute here. Will anyone mind if I get Gazarra to take me home?”

“No one will mind.”

I sat in the front with Gazarra so no one would call my mother and tell her I’d been arrested.

“What’s with Morelli?” I asked Gazarra. “Is something wrong at work?”

“This is Trenton. Work is never good.”

“Then why do you stay?”

“I want my pension.”

“That’s years away.”

“Yeah, but it’s something to look forward to.”

“Why has Morelli stayed?”

“He’s the job. He believes in it. He’s good at it.”

“He seems to be taking more antacids than usual.”

“I noticed. I don’t know what the deal is with that.”

“He hasn’t said anything to you?”

“Morelli’s never been a big talker, but he’s more distant than usual these days. And he’s been taking time off. I figured if anyone knew what was going on, it would be you.”

“He broke up with me.”

“Wow. I didn’t know.”

Gazarra idled at the back door of my building. “Are you freaked out by the shooting?” he asked. “Do you want me to see you inside?”

“Thanks, but it’s not necessary. I’m used to being freaked out.”

“One of the many perks of law enforcement.”

I waved him away and went inside. I took the stairs to the second floor and found Julie Ruley hunched in front of my door, waiting for me. I had a moment of panic. My instinct was to turn and bolt down the stairs, but my feet weren’t moving.

“Where’s Gobbles?” I asked Julie.

“He didn’t come with me. He doesn’t know I’m here. We were walking across campus to meet you, and we saw the police. At first we thought they were there for us, but then we heard kids talking about how there was a shooting. We watched for a while from a distance and then we took off. I heard someone say it was Dean Mintner.”

“He was shot and killed.”

“That’s horrible. I didn’t like him, but it’s still horrible.”

“You realize that you and Gobbles are suspects?”

“We had nothing to do with it. Gobbles had nothing to do with what happened to Dean Mintner the first time.”

“Mintner thought there was something evil going on at the fraternity.”

“There’s nothing evil going on at the fraternity, but there have been some strange things happening. Gobbles and I thought we could poke around and figure it out, but we can’t. We’re not getting anywhere. We need professional help, and we’re afraid to go to the police. They’ll put Gobbles in jail.”

“What makes you think
I
won’t put Gobbles in jail?”

Julie shrugged. “You seem nice. Gobbles said we have to trust someone, and we picked you.”

Oh great.

“What have you got so far?” I asked her. “You must have some idea what’s going on. What are the strange things that have been happening?”

“You have to talk to Gobbles about it.”

“Is he staying with you?”

“No. He won’t tell me where he’s staying. He said if I don’t
know
anything then I don’t have to
lie
about anything. I was hoping we could set up another meeting.”

“Sure, but I need to bring someone with me. I’m not walking into a meeting with Gobbles alone.”

“I’ll tell him.”

I also wasn’t inviting Julie Ruley into my apartment. I watched her walk to the elevator, and then I let myself in and locked the door. I’d had a creepy, disturbing night, and I wasn’t feeling brave or especially trusting.

I went to my kitchen, tapped on Rex’s cage to say hello, and I burst into tears. I checked the calendar on the wall to see if that time of the month was coming up. Not nearly. Damn. I was a mess and I couldn’t even blame it on hormones. I made myself a peanut butter and banana sandwich and washed it down with a bottle of beer.

“Okay, this is better,” I said to Rex. “Maybe I was just hungry. And, anyway, a man was killed and someone should cry over that, right?”

I got my Smith & Wesson out of the cookie jar and set it out on the counter so I’d remember to buy bullets. I checked the door one more time to make sure it was locked. I went through my apartment and made sure there were no killers in the closets or under the bed. I had a second beer and I got into my jammies and crawled into bed with the lights still on. I woke up at three o’clock, and shut the lights off.

I WAS DRESSED
and in the kitchen when Ranger called.

“Are you up?” he asked.

“I’m up and making coffee.”

The lock tumbled and Ranger walked in. He didn’t have a key. Didn’t need one. He could pick a lock faster than it took me to insert a key. I was just happy he’d called before breaking in so he didn’t scare the crap out of me.

He was wearing the standard Rangeman uniform of black fatigues. If you didn’t look closely at the logo on the shirt and ball cap you might think he was part of a SWAT unit.

“I heard you had an interesting night,” Ranger said.

“There’s something bad going on at Kiltman. Mintner was on a rant to shut down the Zeta house, and he was shot and left for dead in their overgrown azalea bushes.”

“What’s the gun doing on the counter? It’s usually in the cookie jar.”

“I put it there so I’d remember to buy bullets.”

“Babe,” Ranger said.

I think he was amused.

I poured my coffee into a to-go mug, grabbed a frozen waffle, and rammed my feet into my big rubber boots. “I’m ready.”

“What about the gun?”

“Um, no bullets.”

“Take it.”

I dropped the gun into my messenger bag and followed Ranger to the parking lot. He was driving a black Ford Explorer that I knew was a Rangeman fleet car. He took Hamilton to Broad and stopped at the hardware store.

My first thought was that he was getting boots like mine, but it turned out the hardware store sold ammo. Who would have thought? He waited while I loaded my gun. He gave his head a slight shake when I dropped one of the rounds onto the floor, but didn’t say anything. He marched me out of the store and back into the car.

Conversation was minimal for the rest of the ride. Ranger was in the zone. He drove into Blatzo’s neighborhood and parked one house down. We got out and Ranger strapped on a gun belt and shrugged into a Kevlar vest. He gave me a vest and a similar gun belt.

I looked down at the big black Glock that was secured to my thigh with Velcro straps. “I feel like Annie Oakley.”

“The Glock is just for looks. Don’t try to use it. You have a place on the belt for your S&W. Use the gun you’re most comfortable with.”

I shoved the S&W into the gun belt and grimaced. I wasn’t comfortable with
any
gun.

Ranger stood hands on hips and looked at me. “I’m completely enamored with you, and I have no idea why.”

“I’m cute?”

“Babe, there has to be more, but honestly I don’t know what it is.”

“One of life’s great mysteries,” I said.

He pulled me hard against him and kissed me. Our tongues touched and I got a first-class rush.

“I hope that’s your gun I feel pressing into my stomach,” I said.

“My gun is on the side of my leg.”

“Oh boy.”

“You’re feeling my flashlight.”

“Sure,” I said. “I knew that. That was my second guess.”

He stepped away. “Watch for the snakes when we go to the door.”

“I’m prepared.”

He looked down at my boots. “Are those your snake boots?”

“I bought them special for this.”

He grinned at me. “And I thought you didn’t know what you were doing. How did this go down last time?”

“I knocked on the door. He opened it. And before I could say anything he grabbed me and pulled me into the house.”

“Any weapons?”

“I saw a shotgun by the door.”

“Okay, let’s try this routine again.”

I followed a couple paces behind Ranger and moved to the side when he rapped on the door. No one answered. Ranger rapped again and I called out, “Bond enforcement.”

Blatzo opened the door, saw me standing there, and started to reach for me when he spotted Ranger. He stepped back and went for the shotgun. Ranger grabbed him by the front of his shirt, lifted him off his feet, and threw him across the room. Blatzo hit the wall with a
wump!
that knocked the air out of him. He slid to the floor, and Ranger walked over and cuffed him.

“That was easy,” I said to Ranger.

“Keep your eye on him. I want to walk through the house.” Ranger came back moments later and called dispatch at Trenton PD for police backup. “We have a cache of weapons and suspicious items in the freezer,” he told her. “We’ll stay on the scene until someone gets here.”

“Suspicious items?” I asked him.

“You don’t want to know more. And you definitely don’t want to look for yourself.”

It took ten minutes for a squad car to reach us. A second one immediately followed. The four men got out and cautiously walked to the front porch, obviously aware of the snakes.

“Why are there so many snakes in this neighborhood?” I asked Ranger.

“The meth dealers and crazies bring them in and set them loose. It’s cheaper and more effective than a guard dog.”

I showed the first cop my paperwork for Blatzo. It gave me permission to enter and capture.

“Looks legal,” he said. “How do you want to go forward? Do you want to take him in or would you rather we take him?”

“We’ll let you take him, and we’ll follow,” Ranger said.

One of the cops walked into the kitchen and looked in the fridge.
“Whoa!”
he said. “Hey, Stan, come take a look at this.”

Stan grimaced and looked at Ranger. “Am I going to wish I hadn’t eaten that burrito for breakfast?”

“It might not have been a good choice,” Ranger said.

I felt like the house was getting crowded, and it didn’t smell all that great, so I tiptoed down the sidewalk, removed my gun belt, and waited in the SUV. An unmarked car cruised down the street and angle-parked in front of the house. A third squad car rolled in. Stan was on the front stoop. He was holding a roll of crime scene tape, looking like he didn’t know what to do with it. No one wanted to venture into the high grass around the house.

Ranger and two uniforms appeared in the doorway with Blatzo. Blatzo was frog-marched to a squad car, shackled, and tucked into the backseat.

Ranger walked back to me and got behind the wheel. “This was a good bust,” he said. “There’s enough evidence in that house to put Blatzo away forever.”

I gave an involuntary shiver. If it hadn’t been for Lula and the dildo, it might have been
my
body parts that were found in the freezer.

It was noon when I swung into the bonds office, and Connie and Lula were working their way through a bucket of extra crispy fried chicken.

“We got this chicken to celebrate that you snagged Blatzo,” Lula said. “There’s a piece left for you.”

I took my crispy chicken part and gave Connie the body receipt. “I’m sure you heard about Dean Mintner.”

“Everyone heard,” Connie said. “It was on morning television. National.”

“I told Connie how I found him, too,” Lula said.

“You didn’t find him,” I said. “You fell over him.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m pretty sure I was guided there by my extra sensoring ability.”

Connie looked past the chicken bucket on her desk to the large plate glass window that fronted the bonds office. “What does your extra sensoring ability tell you about the guy who’s staring in the window at us?”

We all looked out at him.

“Maybe he’s hungry, and he sees this empty chicken bucket only he doesn’t know it’s empty,” Lula said. “He could have a hungry expression on his face.”

He moved from the window to the door and stepped inside. “Stephanie Plum, aka Gina Bigelow?”

“Oh crap,” I said.

“I recognize you from your picture. I hope you don’t mind me showing up like this, but I had to see you. We had this great relationship and then you broke it off. I wonder if we could talk in private.”

“Private isn’t necessary,” I said. “You have the wrong person. We never had a relationship.”

“Where are you from?” Lula asked him.

“Des Moines.”

“I knew it,” Lula said. “He’s Mr. Dildo and Skanky Panties.”

“I’m guessing these are your friends,” he said, “so obviously they know about your problem with the head lice and toenail fungus. It’s not a big issue for me. We can find a good doctor. One who won’t molest you when he examines you. I’m sure that had to be traumatic…even if it did cure your, you know, frigid problem.”

“You gotta love Granny,” Lula said. “She should be writing books.”

“I’m confused,” he said. “Who’s Granny?”

“She’s the woman taking your panties for a test-drive,” Lula said. “You’ve been catfished.”

A red scald started at his collar and rose up his face. “Seriously? You mean, like, lied to?”

He was about five foot five inches tall, in his forties, and balding. He had a spray tan that reminded me of Gulden’s mustard, and I suspected his own shoes hid toenail fungus. He looked like he might be an okay guy if you didn’t set your expectations too high.

“Think of it as a fantasy adventure,” I said.

“Everything you wrote to me was so sincere,” he said.

“I didn’t write to you,” I told him. “Someone borrowed my picture.”

“Yeah, it was her Granny,” Lula said. “Maybe you want to meet her Granny. She’s more fun than Stephanie here anyways.”

“How old is she?” he asked Lula.

“Real old,” Lula said, “but she’s got some kick left in her. You could get a couple good dates out of her.”

His attention shifted back to me. “I’d rather date you.”

“No,” I said. “Not going to happen.”

“We put your dildo to good use, though,” Lula said. “We hit a serial killer in the head with it. Stephanie might be cat food right now if it wasn’t for that big-ass dildo.”

“Sorry you came all the way from Des Moines,” I said.

“It’s okay. This was a side trip. I’m at a dental convention in Atlantic City.”

“Are you a dentist?” Lula asked.

“I sell floss. We have three new flavors this season. I’m expecting a lot of excitement over it.”

Lula, Connie, and I didn’t exactly know where to go with that announcement so we wished him good luck and told him to stay in touch.

“You never know with people,” Lula said when he left. “Who would guess he’d have such stellar taste in dildos?”

“Stellar,”
Connie said. “Where’d that word come from?”

“It’s my word of the day,” Lula said. “I’m always self-improving. I pick a word out and use it all day and then it’s mine. Today’s word is
stellar.
”

“When did you start doing that?” Connie asked her.

“Today,” Lula said. “This is the beginning of a new Lula. So what are you doing now?” Lula asked me. “You going home to bake another cake?”

I took the new FTA file from Connie. “One cake was enough.” I read through the file. “Jesus Sanchez. Wanted for theft of a lawn mower. Are you kidding me? If I catch him I’ll make fifty dollars. And I’m not going to catch him because by now he’s cutting grass in Guatemala.”

“I just hand them over,” Connie said. “I don’t necessarily tell you what to do with them.”

“I tell you what to do with them,” Vinnie yelled from inside his office. “Go find that asshole. Fifty bucks to you is five hundred smackers to me.”

I stuffed the file into my messenger bag. Maybe I could go to beauty school. I could be a hairdresser. It would be like making a cake only with hair. Creative, right?

“I have stuff to do this afternoon,” I said to Lula, “but I might be on the prowl for Gobbles tonight. Can I call you?”

“Yep. You can count on me.”

I went home and googled beauty schools. There were two in Trenton and one in Bordentown. One of the Trenton schools I could attend part-time. That would be perfect. I went into the bathroom and looked at my hair. Shoulder length. Brown. Curly. Now that the rain had stopped it was calming down. When I was in high school I’d ironed it to get it straight.

I heard someone knocking on my door. I went to the door and looked out the security peephole. It was Morelli. He was holding a package.

“And?” I said, opening the door.

“I ran into the UPS guy in the lobby, and I said I’d take this up to you.”

“The UPS guy knows you?”

“He’s my cousin.”

“And you were coming here anyway?”

“Yeah. I’m on my way home, and I thought I’d stop by and tell you about the forensic report so far on Mintner.”

“That’s nice of you, but not typical. You don’t usually share information about ongoing investigations with me. Even when I want the information. Even when I
beg
you for the information.”

“Don’t push it, okay? I’m trying to be helpful.”

I raised an eyebrow. Not buying it.

“I needed an excuse to see you,” Morelli said.

“Why do you need an excuse?”

“I dumped you, remember? You haven’t punched me in the face yet. I’m giving you another shot at it.”

“The moment has passed.”

“Open the package. It says it’s from someone named Kenny. Is this a new boyfriend?”

“Are you jealous?”

He took a beat. His answer was soft. Almost whispered. “Yes.”

Okay, I was feeling much better now. I was torturing Morelli. I opened the package and took out a golden two-pound box of Godiva chocolates. The card said
Sweets to my sweetie. Kenny.

“I can’t compete with this,” Morelli said. “I can’t afford two pounds of Godiva.”

I blew out a sigh. I couldn’t do it. “It’s not mine,” I said. “Grandma’s been catfishing with my picture, and I’m getting all these stupid presents.”

That got a full-on smile from Morelli. “Your grandmother is awesome. Are you going to give this box to her?”

“No. I’m going to eat them.”

I picked one out and popped it into my mouth, but Morelli declined.

“Watching my weight,” he said.

“You look the same as always.”

Truth is, he was perfect.

“Do you want to know about Mintner?” he asked.

I put the cover back on the box. “Yes. Tell me about Mintner.”

“He was shot with the same gun that killed Getz and Linken. And he had black gunpowder on the soles of his shoes.”

“Do you have a connection?”

“Kiltman. Two alums and a dean. Beyond that, no.”

“Suspect?”

“No one who feels just right.”