Hard Eight

  “I have some questions,” I said. “How did they get Soder into my apartment?”

  “You don't want to know.”

  “I do!”

  “I'll meet you for coffee,” Morelli said. “There's a new coffee shop across from the hospital.”

  I GOT A coffee and a croissant, and I sat across from Morelli. “Tell me,” I said.

  “Soder was sawed in half.”

  “What?”

  “Someone used a power saw to cut Soder in half. And then they reassembled him on your couch. The baggy sweater was hiding the fact that they duct-taped Soder back together.”

  My lips went numb, and I could feel the coffee cup sliding from my grasp.

  Morelli reached forward and pushed my head down, between my legs. “Breathe,” he said.

  The bells stopped clanging in my brain, and the dots went away. I sat up and took a sip of coffee. “I'm better now,” I said.

  Morelli did a sigh. “If only I could believe that.”

  “Alright, so they cut him in half. Then what?”

  “We think they used a couple big duffel bags to bring him in. Hockey bags, maybe. Now that you've gotten over the gruesome part, the rest of the story is actually ingenious. Two guys, dressed in costume, carrying duffel bags and balloons, were seen entering the lobby and using the elevator. There were two tenants in the lobby at the tune. They said they assumed someone was getting one of those singing birthday presents. Mr. Kleinschmidt had turned eighty the week before, and someone sent him two strippers.”

  “What sort of costume were these guys wearing?”

  “One was a bear, and the other was a rabbit. No faces showing. About six foot tall, but hard to tell with the costume. We found the balloons in your closet. They took the bags back with them.”

  “Did anyone see them leave?”

  “No one in your building. We're still canvassing the neighborhood. We're checking on costume rentals, too. So far we haven't come up with anything.”

  “It was Abruzzi. He was the one who left the snakes and the spiders. He was the one who put the cardboard cutout on my fire escape.”

  “Can you prove it?”

  “No.”

  “That's the problem,” Morelli said. “And probably Abruzzi didn't personally dirty his hands.”

  “There's a connection between Abruzzi and Soder. Abruzzi was the partner who took over the bar, right?”

  “Soder lost his bar to Abruzzi because of a card game. Soder was playing some high stakes guys, and he needed money. He borrowed the money from Ziggy Zimmerli. And Zimmerli is owned by Abruzzi. Soder lost big time at the card game, couldn't repay the money he borrowed from Zimmerli, and Abruzzi took the bar.”

  “So what's the deal with the bar burning down, and Soder getting shot?”

  “I'm not sure. Probably the bar and Soder moved from the asset column to the liability column and were liquidated.”

  “Did you pick up any prints in my apartment?”

  “None that didn't belong there. With the exception of Ranger.”

  “I work with him.”

  “Yeah,” Morelli said. “I know.”

  “I'm assuming Evelyn isn't a suspect,” I said.

  “Anyone can hire a rabbit and a bear to chop a guy up,” Morelli said. “We aren't ruling anyone out yet.”

  I picked at my croissant. Morelli had his cop face on, and it didn't give much away. Still, I had a feeling there was more. “Is there something you're not telling me?”

  “There was a detail we're not releasing to the press,” Morelli said.

  “A gruesome detail?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let me make a guess. Soder's heart was ripped out.”

  Morelli looked at me for a couple beats. “This guy is about as crazy as they come,” he finally said. “I'd like to protect you, but I don't know how. I could chain you to my wrist. Or I could lock you up in a closet in my house. Or you could pack off for an extended vacation. Unfortunately, I don't think you're going to agree to any of those things.”

  Actually, I thought all of those options sounded kind of appealing. But Morelli was right, I couldn't agree to any of them.

  Stephanie Plum 8 - Hard Eight

  10

  I TOOK ANOTHER sip of coffee and looked around the cafe. It had been nicely decorated with new black-and-white tile on the floor and round, wrought-iron soda fountain-style tables and chairs. Morelli and I were the only ones there. It took the Burg a while to warm up to new things.

  “Thanks for being so nice to me last night,” I said to Morelli.

  He slouched back in his seat. “Against my better judgment, I love you.”

  I paused with the coffee cup midway to my mouth, and my heart did a flip-flop.

  “Don't get all excited,” Morelli said. “That doesn't mean I want a relationship.”

  “You could do worse,” I said.

  “With who? Lizzy Borden?”

  “You're not perfect, either!”

  “I don't find dead guys sitting on my couch.”

  “Well, I don't have a knife scar slicing through my eyebrow from a barroom brawl.”

  “That happened years ago.”

  “So? The dead guy was on my couch yesterday. It's been twenty-four hours since anything bad has happened.”

  Morelli pushed back from the table. “I have to get back to work. Try to stay out of trouble.”

  And he was gone, off to fight crime. I, on the other hand, had no crime to fight. Bender was my only open case, and I was willing to pretend he didn't exist. I was thinking about a second croissant when Les Sebring called on my cell phone.

  “Could you stop by the office?” Sebring asked. “I'd like to talk to you.”

  I cut across town and got another call just as I was cruising the street in front of Sebring's office, looking for parking.

  “He's a nerd,” Valerie said. “You didn't tell me he was a nerd.”

  “Who?”

  “Albert Kloughn. And what's with the hovering? Sometimes I can actually feel him breathing down my neck.”

  “He's insecure. Try thinking of him as a pet.”

  “A golden retriever.”

  “More like a giant hamster.”

  “I was sort of hoping he'd marry me,” Valerie said. “I was hoping he'd be taller.”

  “Valerie, this isn't a date. This is a job. Where is he now?”

  “He went next door. There's something wrong with the vending machine that dispenses detergent.”

  “He's a nice guy. A little annoying, maybe. But he won't fire you for spilling chicken soup. In fact, he'll buy you a replacement lunch. Think about it.”

  “And I shouldn't have worn these shoes,” Valerie said. “I'm dressed all wrong.”

  I disconnected and found a place to park on the street across from Sebring. I put a quarter in the meter and made sure it registered.. I didn't need another parking ticket. I still hadn't paid the last one.

  Sebring's secretary walked me upstairs and led me into Sebring's private office. Sebring was waiting for me. And so was Jeanne Ellen Burrows.

  I extended my hand to Sebring. “Nice to see you again,” I said. I nodded to Jeanne Ellen. She smiled in return.

  “I guess you're out of a job,” I said to Jeanne Ellen.

  “Yes. And I'll be flying to Puerto Rico later today to pick up an FTA for Les. I wanted to tell you about Soder before I left. For what it's worth, Soder claimed Annie was in danger. He never articulated that danger, but he felt Evelyn was incapable of protecting his daughter. I wasn't successful at locating Annie, but I realized Dotty was the conduit . . . the weak link. So I guarded Dotty.”

  “What about the back door? That was left unguarded.”

  “I had the house wired,” Jeanne Ellen said. “I knew you were in there.”

  “The house was wired, but you still couldn't find Evelyn?”

  “Evelyn's location was never mentioned. You blew the whistle on me before I had a chance to follow Dotty
to Evelyn.”

  “And what about Soder? The scene in the bookstore and at Dotty's house?”

  “Soder was a fool. He thought he could bully Dotty into talking.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  Jeanne Ellen shrugged. “Professional courtesy.”

  I looked beyond her to Sebring. “Do you have an ongoing interest in this?”

  “Not unless Soder comes back from the dead.”

  “What's your opinion? Do you think Annie's in danger?”

  “Someone killed her father,” Sebring said. “That's not a good sign. Unless, of course, it was Annie's mom who hired the hit. Then everything works out roses.”

  “Do either of you know how Eddie Abruzzi fits into this puzzle?”

  “He owned Soder's bar,” Jeanne Ellen said. “And Soder was afraid of him. If Annie actually was in danger, I thought the threat might be tied to Abruzzi. Nothing concrete, just a feeling I had.”

  “I hear you found Soder sitting on your couch,” Sebring said to me. “Do you know what that means?”

  “My couch has death cooties?”

  Sebring smiled and his teeth almost blinded me. “You can't wash away death cooties,” he said. “Once they're on your couch, they're there to stay.”

  I left the office on that cheery note. I got into my car, and I took a moment to process the new information. What did it mean? It didn't mean much. It reinforced my fear that Evelyn and Annie were running, not just from Soder, but from Abruzzi, as well.

  Valerie called again. “If I go out to lunch with Albert, would it be a date?”

  “Only if he rips your clothes off.”

  I hung up and put the car in gear. I was going back to the Burg, and I was going to talk to Dotty's mom. She was the only connection I had to Evelyn. If Dotty's mom said Dotty and Evelyn were peachy fine and coming home, I'd feel like I was off the hook. I'd go to the mall and get a manicure.

  MRS. PALOWSKI OPENED her front door and gasped at seeing me on her porch. “Oh dear,” she said. As if the death couch cooties were contagious.

  I sent her a reassuring smile and a little finger wave. “Hi. I hope I'm not imposing.”

  “Not at all, dear. I heard about Steven Soder. I don't know what to think.”

  “Me, either,” I said. “I don't know why he was put on my couch.” I did a grimace. “Go figure. At least he wasn't killed there. They packed him in.” Even as I said it, I knew it was lame. Leaving a sawed-in-half corpse on a girl's couch is rarely a random act. “The thing is, Mrs. Palowski, I really do need to talk to Dotty. I was hoping she might have heard about Soder and gotten in touch with you.”

  “As a matter of fact, she did. She called this morning, and I told her you were asking after her.”

  “Did she say when she'd be home?”

  “She said she might be gone a while. That was all she said.”

  There goes the manicure.

  Mrs. Palowski wrapped her arms tight around herself. “Evelyn dragged Dotty into this, didn't she? It's not like Dotty to take off from work and pull Amanda out of school to go on a camping trip. I think something bad is going on. I heard about Steven Soder, and I went straight to mass. I didn't pray for Soder, either. He can go to hell for all I care.” She crossed herself. “I prayed for Dotty,” she said.

  “Do you have any idea where Dotty might be? If she was trying to help Evelyn, where would she take her?”

  “I don't know. I've tried to think, but I can't figure it out. I doubt Evelyn has much money. And Dotty is on a tight budget. So I can't see them flying off to someplace. Dotty said she had to stop at the mall yesterday to get some last-minute camping things, so maybe she really is camping. Sometimes, before the divorce, Dotty and her husband would go to a campground by Washington's Crossing. I can't think of the name, but it was right on the river, and you could rent a little trailer.”

  I knew the campground. I'd passed it a million times on the way to New Hope.

  OKAY, NOW I was cooking. I had a lead. I could check out the campground. Only thing, I didn't want to check it out alone. It was too isolated at this time of year. Too easy for Abruzzi to ambush me. So I took a deep breath and called Ranger.

  “Yo,” Ranger said.

  “I have a lead on Evelyn, and I could use some backup.”

  Twenty minutes later, I was parked in the Washington's Crossing parking lot, and Ranger pulled in beside me. He was driving a shiny black 4 X 4 pickup with oversize tires and bug lights on the cab. I locked my car and hoisted myself into his passenger seat. The interior of the truck looked like Ranger regularly communicated with Mars.

  “How's your mental health?” he asked. “I heard about Soder.”

  “I'm rattled.”

  “I have a cure.”

  Oh, boy.

  He put the truck in gear and headed for the exit. “I know what you're thinking,” he said. “And that wasn't where I was going. I was going to suggest work.”

  “I knew that.”

  He looked over at me and grinned. “You want me bad.”

  I did. God help me. “We're going north,” I said. “There's a chance that Evelyn and Dotty are at the campground with the little trailers.”

  “I know the campground.”

  The road was empty at this time of day. Two lanes winding along the Delaware River and through the Pennsylvania countryside. Patches of woods and clusters of pretty houses bordered the road. Ranger was silent while he drove. He was paged twice and both times he read the message and didn't respond. Both times he kept the message to himself. Normal behavior for Ranger. Ranger led a secret life.

  The pager buzzed a third time. Ranger unclipped it from his belt and looked at the readout. He cleared the screen, reclipped the pager, and continued to watch the road.

  “Hello,” I said.

  He cut his eyes to me.

  Ranger and I were oil and water. He was the Man of Mystery, and I was Ms. Curiosity. We both knew this. Ranger tolerated it with mild amusement. I tolerated it with teeth clenched.

  I dropped my eyes to his pager. “Jeanne Ellen?” I asked. I couldn't help myself.

  “Jeanne Ellen is on her way to Puerto Rico,” Ranger said.

  Our eyes held for a moment, and he turned his attention back to the road. End of conversation.

  “It's a good thing you have a nice ass,” I said to him. Because you sure as hell can be annoying.

  “My ass isn't my best part, babe,” Ranger said, smiling at me.

  And that truly did end the conversation. I had no follow-up.

  Ten minutes later we approached the campground. It sat between the road and the river and could easily go unnoticed. It didn't have a sign. And for all I knew, it didn't have a name. A dirt road slanted down to a couple acres of grass. Small ramshackle cabins and trailers were scattered along the river's edge, each with a picnic table and grill. It had an air of abandonment at this time of year. And it felt slightly disreputable, and intriguing, like a gypsy encampment.

  Ranger idled at the entrance, and we scanned the surroundings.

  “No cars,” Ranger said. He eased the truck down the drive and parked. He reached under the dash, removed a Glock, and we got out of the truck.

  We systematically went down the row of cabins and trailers, trying doors, looking in windows, checking the grills for recent use. The lock was broken on the front door to the fourth cabin. Ranger rapped once and opened the door.

  The front room had a small kitchen area at one end. Not high-tech. Sink, stove, fridge circa 1950. The floor was covered with scuffed linoleum. There was a full-size couch at the far end of the room, a square wood table, and four chairs. The only other room to the cabin was a bedroom with two sets of bunks. The bunks had mattresses but no sheets or blankets. The bathroom was minuscule. A sink and a toilet. No shower or tub. The toothpaste in the sink looked fresh.

  Ranger picked a pink plastic little girl's barrette off the floor. “They've moved on,” he said.

  We checked
the refrigerator. It was empty. We went outside and investigated the remaining cabins and trailers. All the others were locked. We checked the Dumpster and found a single small bag of garbage.

  “Do you have any other leads?” Ranger asked me.