22 Tricky Twenty-Two (6 page)

“I’m pretty sure someone at Zeta did this.”

“Because you’re looking for Globovic?” Ranger asked.

“Yeah. And Lula sort of shot up their balcony earlier today.”

This didn’t get a full-on smile from Ranger, but I saw the corners of his mouth curve the smallest amount, and I knew he was making an effort to control himself.

“We’ve got no way to get onion rings,” Lula said. “There’s wall-to-wall goose poop in our car, and they pecked up the steering wheel. I was counting on those onion rings.”

“Hal is on his way. He’ll take care of the Mercedes, and he’ll take you back to the office,” Ranger said to Lula.

“Hal is the one who looks like a stegosaurus, right?” Lula asked. “No neck. Lots of bulging back muscles? He’s a good-lookin’ guy. I wouldn’t mind sharing some onion rings with him.”

He also faints at the sight of blood and is terrified of Lula.

“I can ride with Hal, too,” I said.

“I’d rather you came with me,” Ranger said. “I want to talk to you.”

We cruised out of the lot just as Hal was pulling in. I thought he went pale at the sight of the parking lot covered with goose poop, but it could just have been the lighting. Or maybe it was the sight of Lula waiting for him with her shredded clothes and goose-styled hair.

“I’ve already disposed of your previous car,” Ranger said. “Would you like a replacement Mercedes?”

“No! I don’t want to be responsible for the death of another Mercedes. Take me to my parents’ house, and I’ll borrow Big Blue until I find something else.”

Big Blue is a ’53 powder blue and white Buick Roadmaster. My Great Uncle Sandor gave it to my grandmother when he went into the nursing home, and it’s resided in my parents’ garage ever since. Its only modern amenities are its jury-rigged seatbelts. Other than that, it drives like a refrigerator on wheels and sucks gas faster than I can pump it in. The good part is that it’s free and indestructible.

“They did the autopsy on Doug Linken today, and they’re releasing him to the family. There will be a viewing tomorrow night and the funeral on Thursday. Monica has asked for security for the viewing and funeral. Can I count on you for those days?”

“Yes. Just don’t give me any more cars.”

MY MOTHER AND
Grandma Mazur were in the kitchen eating lunch when I walked in. Grandma Mazur came to live with my parents when Grandpa graduated from this life to the next. My mother, being a good Catholic woman, accepted this living arrangement as her cross to bear and gets by with help from Jim Beam. My father developed selective hearing and spends a lot of time at his lodge. And now that we took his gun away we feel it’s safe to leave him alone with Grandma.

The house is a two-story, two-family duplex, which means it shares a wall with an almost identical house. It has a small foyer, a small living room crammed with overstuffed furniture and the television, a dining room that can seat ten uncomfortably, and a slightly dated but homey kitchen in the back of the house. There are three small bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs.

“You’re in time for lunch,” Grandma said. “We got ham and cheese sandwiches.”

“That sounds good,” I said, getting a plate and taking a seat at the small kitchen table.

My sister, Valerie, and I did our homework at the table when we were kids. She was the perfect one, and I was less than perfect. She had a brief spell of blemished perfection when her first marriage went into the toilet, but she’s since remarried and is now back on track for sainthood, producing grandchildren for my parents at an alarming rate.

“How’s Valerie?” I asked. “I haven’t talked to her in a couple days.”

“She’s big as a house, and she pees when she moves,” Grandma said. “Hard to believe the baby isn’t due for another month.”

My mother made a sandwich for me. “Mustard or mayonnaise?”

“Mayonnaise.”

“Your mother and I went to mass this morning and everyone was talking about Doug Linken,” Grandma said. “About how someone knocked him off. Are you still babysitting his wife?”

“I’m signed on to provide security for the viewing and funeral.”

“Boy, you’ve got the glamour job,” Grandma said. “You probably get to go to the wake, too. I’d give my eyeteeth to go to that wake.”

This wasn’t much of a sacrifice since Grandma wore dentures. Not to mention she wasn’t above crashing a wake.

“The girls at the bakery think it was the wife who whacked him. Everyone knew he fooled around. He went out to smoke, and good old Monica drilled a couple rounds into him,” Grandma said.

“Terrible,” my mother said. “Such a tragedy.”

“I hear they’re only having one viewing,” Grandma said to me. “It’s going to be packed. If you need extra muscle I’m available.”

“If you involve your grandmother in this you’ll be banned from having dessert at this house for life,” my mother said.

“I won’t need extra muscle,” I said. “Ranger is the primary security. I’m only there if Monica has to go to the ladies’ room.”

“Will you be in a Rangeman uniform?” Grandma asked. “Will you be packing?”

“No and sort of.”

“How can you sort of carry a gun?” Grandma asked.

“I don’t have any bullets. I keep forgetting to buy them.”

“I might be able to help you out,” Grandma said.

My mother gave my grandmother the steely-eye. “Yesterday you told me you got rid of the gun and all the bullets. You
promised.
”

“I was gonna suggest that she goes to Walmart,” Grandma said. “They got everything.”

I caught my mother glancing at the cupboard over the sink. She kept her hooch there, and she was probably weighing my opinion of her as an alcoholic against how bad she needed a drink. I love Grandma Mazur, but in all honesty, if I had to live with her I’d be taking a nip in the afternoon too.

“What kind of bad guys are you hunting down these days?” Grandma asked.

“No one special,” I said. “The usual suspects.”

“I heard you nabbed Billy Bacon but he got away,” Grandma said.

I nodded. “We had him in custody but there was an incident.”

My mother snapped to attention. “What incident? I didn’t hear about an incident.”

“It involved Lula,” I said. “I was getting lunch for all of us and Lula and Billy Bacon got carjacked.”

“Oh my God,” my mother said, and immediately made the sign of the cross. “Where did this happen? It was in a bad neighborhood, wasn’t it? You’re always in a bad neighborhood. I don’t know why you can’t find a nice normal job.”

“I sort of like my job,” I said. “I have a lot of personal freedom, and I don’t have to get dressed up.”

“You make no money, and you’re always dealing with criminals,” my mother said. “It’s a terrible job. You should quit and marry Joseph.”

I blew out a sigh.

“What?” my mother said.

“I’m not ready to marry Morelli.”

“Why not? He has a good job. He has a house. He has a nice car.”

“He’s hot,” Grandma said. “Don’t forget about him being hot.”

I wondered if there was dessert. There was a white Tasty Pastry bakery box sitting on the counter.

Grandma saw me look over at it. “Italian cookies,” she said. “Pinwheels and almond horns and pistachio shortbread.” She got up and brought the box to the table.

“You’re not getting any younger,” my mother said to me. “What are you waiting for? You should bring him to dinner on Friday. I’ll make pot roast.”

I took a pinwheel. “We broke up.”

My mother’s eyes got wide. “Broke up? Why?”

I shrugged. “He dumped me.”

“What did you do?” my mother asked. “You must have done something.”

I made a show of looking at my watch. “Oh gosh, look at the time. I have to go. I was wondering if I could borrow Uncle Sandor’s car.”

“What happened to
your
car?” my mother asked.

“It’s having some problems.”

“Like what? Do you need new tires? A battery?”

“It got filled with geese,” I said. “It wasn’t my fault.”

No point trying to hide it. It was probably going to be on the evening news. At the very least I was sure it would make YouTube. Everyone in the parking lot had had their cellphones out, recording the fiasco.

My mother looked dazed. As if someone had just smacked her in the face with a frying pan. “Geese,” she murmured.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Lula let them out, and the geese were fine.”

“Dang it. I miss all the good stuff,” Grandma said.

I grabbed a couple more cookies, stood, and lifted my messenger bag onto my shoulder. “Gotta get back to work.”

Grandma got the Buick’s key out of the junk drawer and handed it to me. “I got bullets and an extra gun if you need it,” she whispered. “Don’t tell your mother.”

I always felt like a failure when I drove Big Blue, because I only drove it when I had no other option. Big Blue represented rock bottom in the automotive department. Jay Leno would have thought it was ultra cool, but I just thought it was ultra hard to drive. And a ’53 Buick wasn’t in keeping with my self-image. Truth is, the Mercedes SUV wasn’t compatible with my self-image, either. I was more a bright yellow Jeep Wrangler, or maybe a zippy red Hyundai.

I eased the blue behemoth out of the garage and onto the road. I put it in gear, fed it gas, and the car oozed forward. It picked up speed and rolled along like a tank. I turned out of the Burg onto Hamilton Avenue and noticed a red light flashing in my rearview mirror. It was Morelli in his green SUV with a
Kojak
light stuck onto his roof. I pulled into the small Tasty Pastry parking lot, and he pulled in after me. I got out of the Buick and held my hands up.

“Funny,” he said. “Put your hands down before someone calls your mother and tells her you’ve been busted.”

“What’s up?”

“I saw you drive by, and I thought you would be interested in a ballistics report I just got back. The bullets extracted from Doug Linken and his partner, Harry Getz, are a match. They were fired from the same gun.”

“So we’ve got one shooter. Do you have the gun?”

“No.”

“Have you locked on to a motive?”

“The obvious is a disgruntled investor, but I’m having a hard time buying it.”

“There are the wives.”

“Do you think they’re capable of murder?” Morelli asked.

“I wouldn’t discount them, given the right circumstances.”

“I agree, but I’m not sold on them, either.”

“What
are
you sold on?”

“Nothing right now. The autopsy didn’t tell me anything interesting. I’m waiting on some crime scene lab reports. I’m telling you this because it’s my understanding that Ranger has been retained to provide security for the widow Linken. I’m assuming you’ll be part of that party.”

“You assume correct.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you snitched for me. I’ll be attending both events, but I won’t have the access you’ll have.”

“I thought you were handing over your gun and your badge.”

“It’s a process. There are things I have to set in place first.”

“Another job?”

“Yeah. In the meantime I’m doing the one I have as best as I can.”

“Gee, that’s freakin’ noble of you.”

“Yep. That’s me. Mr. Noble.”

“I don’t get it. So you have heartburn. Big deal. Everyone has heartburn. That’s not a good enough reason to stop being a cop. What are you going to do? Sell insurance? Manage a minimart?”

“Maybe.”

“You never talked about this with me. We were practically living together, and you never said anything about this.”

“It’s something I have to figure out on my own.”

I did an eye roll. “Men.”

He leaned closer and I thought he was going to kiss me, but it turned out he was looking at my pimple.

“Is this it?” he asked.

“It’s better than it was yesterday.”

“And it’s all my fault?”

“Yes!”

He rocked back on his heels and grinned. “Sorry about that.”

“You don’t look sorry.”

“I am. I swear. Would you like a donut? Coffee?”

“No, but thanks. I need to go. Things to do.”

I slid behind the wheel, and he looked in at me. “Nice seeing you,” he said.

I did another eye roll. I couldn’t help myself. I watched Morelli drive out of the lot, and then I backtracked a block from the bakery to the office and parked behind Lula’s Firebird.

Connie looked up when I walked in. “Where’s Lula?”

“She’s with Hal. I think they’re going to check out some onion rings.”

“Rangeman Hal?”

“Yep. It’s been
one of those days.
Zeta is trying to discourage us from looking for Gobbles. They bombed Lula with a beer balloon, and then they filled the Mercedes with geese.”

“Real geese?” Connie asked.

“Yeah. It wasn’t pretty. Anyway, long story short, Ranger dropped me off at my parents’ house so I could get Big Blue, and Lula went with Hal.”

“I ran all the fraternity brothers through the system and didn’t get any hits around M and Hawthorne,” Connie said.

The front door to the office burst open and Lula swung in.

“Holy bejeezus,” Connie said, staring at Lula. “What happened to you?”

“Geese,” Lula said. “Ungrateful sons-a-bitches.”

“You have some goose feathers stuck in your hair,” I told her.

“I know. I’m gonna have to go to the beauty salon and have Ayesha work her magic. I was thinking I needed a color change anyways. Lavender is pretty with my brown skin but it’s limiting, you see what I’m saying? I might need to be a blonde on account of then I can move into the red section of my closet. I’m feeling in a red mood.”

“Did you get Hal to take you for onion rings?” I asked.

“He didn’t have time. We waited until the car got loaded onto the flatbed, and then he had to do a patrol run after he dropped me here. It’s just as well since I’m thinking I’m going straight to Ayesha. And then after I’m all beautified I might go out for the onion rings. You all could go with me. It could be a girls’ night out, and we could even look for Gobbles. I’ve been thinking about it, and I bet he comes out of his hidey-hole at night.”

“I’m in,” Connie said. “I don’t have anything going on tonight.”

“Sure,” I said. “Me too.”

“Almost forgot,” Connie said to me. “You got another package. Looks like it’s from Daniel Craig again. No return address. Handwriting looks the same.”

Oh boy.

I opened the envelope and pulled out a photograph of a totally ripped naked guy with a huge boner and Daniel Craig’s head. Clearly the head had been photoshopped on.

“Daniel Craig got a good one,” Lula said.

“It’s not Daniel Craig,” I said. “Someone put his head on someone else’s body. The skin tones don’t match.”

“Too bad for Daniel Craig,” Lula said. “He’d like to own that bad boy.”

Connie looked over my shoulder. “Is that a real penis? It’s massive.”

“I’ve seen them come that big,” Lula said. “Mostly when they get that big they’re kind of dumb. They haven’t got a lot of talent, if you know what I mean.”

I didn’t know what she meant, and I didn’t want to ask.

“There’s something written on the back,” Connie said.

I turned the picture over and read the inscription. “It says
This is the real me.
”

“I think
the real me
got delusions of grandeur,” Lula said.

“Do you want the picture?” I asked Lula. “There’s no bath caddy.”

“I’ll take it anyway,” Lula said. “Things have been slow in the romance department.”