Smokin' Seventeen (22 page)

Ranger drove through town and pulled into his building’s garage. He parked and turned to me. “Would you like to come upstairs?”

“Thanks for asking, but I think I’ll head home.”

“Still not feeling the vordo?”

“The vordo is gone.”

In the beginning it was a huge relief, but now I was starting to worry. I’d just been locked in a dark closet with Ranger for an hour, and I’d felt nothing. It was like the
dead zone
down there.

“I don’t need vordo, babe,” Ranger said.

Possibly true, but I didn’t want to find out. What if he was wrong, and I’d never be the same again? I was going with the head-in-the-sand program tonight.

“Rain check,” I told him.

A half hour later I was idling in my parking lot. I’d driven around and didn’t see Regina Bugle lurking anywhere. Dave’s parents’ car wasn’t here, and I didn’t know if Dave had his own. Probably he wasn’t driving anyway. I was pretty sure I broke his nose, and his eyes would be all swollen shut. I parked, ran across the lot to the safety of the building, took the stairs, and cautiously checked out my hall. No Dave. Yea!

Most of the bloodstain was gone from the carpet, and Dillon left the coffee cup sitting by my door. I took the cup inside, locked and bolted my door, and said hello to Rex. I poked around in the refrigerator, but it was pretty much empty. No more beer. No more leftovers. I finished off the box of Fruit Loops and went to bed.

• • •

Monday morning, a little before eight o’clock, I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. I stared at the empty shelves in the refrigerator and went through the cupboards. No milk. No coffee. No cereal. I shuffled out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. I took a shower, got dressed in my usual uniform of jeans and girlie T-shirt, and went back to the kitchen to see if food had magically appeared. The doorbell rang and without thinking I opened the door to Dave Brewer.

Brewer had two black eyes and a Band-Aid across his nose, and he was holding a grocery bag and a bag from the coffee shop.

“I brought you breakfast,” he said.

I was dumbstruck. I didn’t know whether I should get my gun out of the cookie jar on the counter and shoot him, or apologize for breaking his nose.

He moved past me, put the bags down, pulled out a large coffee, and handed it to me. “I thought I’d make an omelet. And I got fresh croissants from the bakery.”

“I don’t want an omelet.”

“Have you already eaten breakfast?”

“No.”

“Then you want an omelet. I make an awesome omelette,” Dave said.

“Aren’t you mad that I broke your nose?”

He found the fry pan, put it on the stove, and added oil. “I guess I was out of line. I read the cues wrong.”

“I’m happy to have the coffee, but I don’t want you in my kitchen,” I told him.

He stood hands on hips and looked at me. “Why not?”

“You make me uncomfortable.”

He got the cutting board out and chopped onion, ham, and red pepper. “You have to be more specific than that.”

“I already have a boyfriend, and I don’t want another one.”

“Morelli? You’ve been fooling around with him since you were in kindergarten, and your mother says it’s not going anywhere. We think you need someone new.”

“Maybe, but it’s not you.”

He dumped the chopped stuff into the hot oil and stirred it around. “Why isn’t it me? I’m very likable. I’m attractive. I’m really good in bed. You wouldn’t know because you’ve never given me a chance, but I know what I’m doing.”

What is it with men? They all think they’re great in bed and women want to see them naked. It’s like some genetic chromosome thing.

“You’re a nice guy. And you’re right … you’re likable and attractive. You should look around. I’m sure you won’t have any problem finding a girlfriend.”

He cracked a bunch of eggs into a bowl and whipped them up. “I was voted Mr. Popularity in high school.”

“I remember.”

How the heck was I going to get him out of my apartment? It seemed excessively mean to break his nose a second time.

“And I was captain of the football team.”

“Yeah.” Stun gun, I thought. I could stun gun him.

He stirred the sizzling ham and onion around, poured the egg in, and grated some cheddar cheese. The whole kitchen smelled fabulous. I sipped my coffee and thought it wouldn’t hurt to eat first and then stun gun him.

He took two plates from the cupboard and put a croissant on each plate. He fussed with his omelet, added the cheese, and folded the omelet over. “If I’d had more time I could have made bacon or breakfast sausages,” he said, taking the pan off the stove, dividing the omelet in half. “This is healthier anyway. I don’t want a fat girlfriend.”

“I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Not yet.”

I was definitely going to stun gun him. And I was going to enjoy it. He slid half the omelet onto my plate, and we took our breakfast to the dining room table. I gobbled everything down and drained my coffee cup.

“Delicious,” I said.

“If you let me stay overnight I could make waffles in the morning. I have a killer waffle recipe.”

“Excuse me,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

I found my stun gun, walked behind Dave, and gave him a double dose of volts. He slumped off the chair, and I grabbed him before he fell on his face. I didn’t care a lot if he broke his nose again, but I didn’t want more blood on the carpet. I dragged him out to the hall, grabbed my bag and sweatshirt, locked my apartment door, and took the stairs to the lobby.

I searched the parking lot for a black Lexus. None in sight, so I ran to the Shelby and took off. I called Dillon and asked him to check for a body laid out in front of my door.

“He should be okay in a few minutes,” I said to Dillon. “He had a dizzy spell. Maybe you can help him get to his car. Just make sure he doesn’t talk you into letting him into my apartment.”

“Okeydokey,” Dillon said. “No problemo.”

I hung up with Dillon and called Morelli.

“I have some information on Nick Alpha,” I said to Morelli. “He’s living in an apartment over his dry-cleaning business on Stark, and he has a safe in his second bedroom, and I’m pretty sure the safe is filled with bags of money. I don’t think it came from dry cleaning.”

“I’ll pass the information on,” Morelli said. “Don’t ever tell me how you found this out.”

I drove down Hamilton to the bonds office lot. Mooner’s bus and Connie’s car were parked curbside. No Vinnie. No Lula. I parked behind Connie, and let myself into the bus. The walls and the ceiling were upholstered in cream microfiber. The floor was tan Berber carpet. Countertops were pale green faux marble Formica. No more Death Star. Mooner was watching television with his sunglasses on. Connie was working at her computer.

“This is great,” I said, sitting in a club chair. “Uncle Jimmy did a good job.”

“What is butter!” Mooner yelled at the television.

Connie looked at me. “The bus is better, but it isn’t perfect. It’s still got Mooner.”

“That’s because he owns it,” I told her. “Where is everyone?”

“Vinnie is downtown bonding someone out, and Lula is at the dentist.”

“Did she say what was wrong?”

“No. She left a message on my cell. I have a vision of her getting her fangs ground down.”

That dragged a grimace out of both of us.

“What did you do over the weekend?” Connie asked. “Anything interesting?”

“I took Grandma to Lou Dugan’s viewing Saturday night, and Nick Alpha was there.”

“I’m not surprised. They were business partners before Nick got sent to prison. Dugan was part owner of the gym on Stark Street where Benito Ramirez trained.”

I told her about the conversation at the viewing.

Connie’s eyes got wide. “He said he was going to kill you?”

“Yeah. And he said he’d killed before.”

“Did you tell Morelli?”

“He’s going to talk to Nick, but I’m not sure how effective that’ll be.”

“Do you think Nick was serious about killing you?”

I nodded my head. “Yeah, I think he was serious. He had a lot of time in prison to work himself up over Jimmy’s death. Morelli will do what he can as a cop, but I need to go proactive. It occurred to me that Nick could have killed Dugan,
Lucarelli, Beck, and Kulicki. If I can prove it, I can have him sent away forever, and I won’t have to worry about him killing me.”

“He knew Dugan, Lucarelli, and Kulicki,” Connie said. “He could have had something against them. Timing is right. Alpha got out of prison just before the killings started.”

“I broke into his apartment last night, but I couldn’t find any evidence.”

“That doesn’t mean Alpha didn’t kill those people.”

I helped myself to coffee and returned to my chair. “True, but Ranger doesn’t think Alpha feels right. He thinks Alpha is a shooter, and all the victims were strangled with their necks broken. So if Ranger’s right, I have to get something else on Nick Alpha. I’m sure he’s dirty. I just have to find out what he’s into right now.”

“I’m sure I can get answers for you,” Connie said. “The difficulty will be proving it.”

“If I can tell the police exactly where to look, they can set something up. After I get things in motion I can lock myself in my apartment and not go out until Alpha’s put away.”

“What about Ranger? I’m sure he’d take care of Alpha for you.”

“Ranger is working off enough bad karma. I don’t want to add to the burden.”

Connie put her headset on. “Let me make some phone calls.”

THIRTY-FIVE

I WENT TO THE BACK
of the bus and watched
Jeopardy
reruns with Mooner for an hour while Connie researched crime.

“I could like
do
this,” Mooner said. “I could
rule Jeopardy.
” He sat forward. “What is Sri Lanka! Ancient Greek history for $200.”

I abandoned
Jeopardy
and looked in on Connie.

“I have a couple leads,” Connie said. “Alpha was sent away for running numbers and extortion. Apparently he’s back in the extortion business and there are some Stark Street businessmen who aren’t happy about it.”

“And they’re talking?”

“Not to police, but in the community.”

“Can I convince them to talk to the police?”

“Not until you get Alpha taken off the street for something else. There’s a lot of fear. He came out of prison crazy angry.”

“Is there something else?”

“Cockfighting.”

“Get out!”

“Word is he’s running cockfights somewhere Monday and Thursday nights. And cockfights are a felony. My source didn’t know where the fights were taking place, but I ran property tax records and Nick Alpha owns five Stark Street properties.” Connie handed me a note card with the addresses. “One is under his name and four as NAA LLC.”

The door to the bus opened, and Vinnie climbed the stairs and handed Connie a file. “Business is booming. I’m bonding out guys who are telling me they’re going FTA so the hooters girls will come get them.” He pointed his finger at me. “You’re gonna either need a boob job or a really serious push-up bra.”

I looked down at myself. I liked my boobs just the way they were. They weren’t too big, and they weren’t too small. They were a perfect handful for Morelli.

“You’re an idiot,” I said to Vinnie.

“Yeah,” Vinnie said. “But I’m your idiot boss. What are you doing here? Don’t you have anything better to do? Why aren’t you out chasing bad guys?”

“I caught all the bad guys.”

“What about the flyers?”

“We hung them all.”

“I’ll give you five bucks if you wash my car,” Vinnie said.

I was tempted to take it. I could use the money.

“What is Queen Elizabeth!” Mooner yelled at the television.

“Christ,” Vinnie said. “Is he watching
Jeopardy
again? Lock him in the can with Donkey Kong. I got work to do.”

“Do you know anything about cockfights?” I asked Vinnie.

“Like what do you want to know?”

“I want to know if there are any around?”

“Is the pope Catholic?”

“Do you know where they’re held?”

“No. They’re not my thing. I like the ponies. I imagine the cockfights move around. They’re illegal. What’s your interest? Not a lot of women into cockfighting. As your cousin I would advise you not to go alone. Even if you’re armed you don’t want to go alone. I hear it’s a rough crowd.”

There was a rap on the door, and Morelli stuck his head in. “Good morning,” he said. “I need to talk to Stephanie.”

I stepped out, and we walked away from the bus.

“It looks like we found the last poker player,” Morelli said.

“Sam Grip?”

“Probably. The body wasn’t in good shape. It was stuffed into the trunk of his car, and a ballpark guess is he was killed in the same time frame as Lou Dugan and Bobby Lucarelli. The car was found early this morning. It was parked in a scrubby section of woods in the Pine Barrens, and it attracted attention because there were about forty buzzards sitting on it and another hundred circling overhead. Apparently they’d been circling for days and someone finally investigated.”

“Ick. Was Sam addressed to me?”

“No. No note. They’re sending a helicopter out to do a flyover. I’m guessing they’ll find the rest of the cars in the same area.”

“Why did the killer hide the cars? Why didn’t he just leave them with the bodies?”

Morelli shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Sounds like standard operating procedure for the mob. They bury people in the Pine Barrens all the time. I bet Nick Alpha’s prints are all over the car.”

“I don’t know if you can categorize Nick Alpha as mob,” Morelli said. “Most of the Trenton mob guys are in their nineties.”

“Work with me here,” I said. “I need to pin something on Alpha.”

Morelli dragged me up against him and kissed me. “Try to stay out of trouble,” he said. “I have to go.”

I watched him walk to his car, and I thought I felt a small stirring of feeling down in the
dead zone
. Maybe it wasn’t dead after all. Maybe it had just been resting.

I opened the door to the bus and called to Connie. “I’m taking off,” I said. “I want to check out the addresses.”