Lean Mean Thirteen

  There was only on-street parking on Jewel Street, and at this time of the night, every parking place was taken.

  “Rufus went in the car with the muscle,” Tank said over speakerphone. “He got dropped off in front of the building and the muscle kept driving. Hal followed the car to Stark Street and lost it in traffic. I'm double-parked across the street from the building. Rufus went in and hasn't come out. No one else has gone in since I've been here. Only a few minutes.”

  Ranger called Hal. “Look at the back of the building and make sure it's secure.”

  “Yessir,” Hal said. “I'm a couple blocks away. I'll get right to it.”

  Ranger circled the block and found a parking place on a side street. We left the car and walked to where Tank was idling. We stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the building. Lights were on in units A and A. Curtains were drawn in A.

  “It has to be the third floor,” I said. “I was in every apartment, and I can't see any of the others as a possibility.”

  “I told Rufus I'd wait for him to clear before I made a move, but this feels off,” Ranger said.

  “What do you want to do with Gorvich when you find him?” I asked.

  “I want to talk to him.”

  A car careened onto Jewel half a block away and screamed past us, going in the opposite direction. Two men in the car. The passenger in shadow. The driver was the blond muscle guy.

  Hal was half a block behind with his foot to the floor. Tank jerked away from the curb, hooked a U-turn, and Tank and Hal disappeared down the street in pursuit.

  Ranger and I ran to the building and took the stairs two at a time to the third floor. I smelted the gasoline before we even reached the top of the stairs. It was mingled with cooked meat and forest fire.

  Ranger didn't bother with the locksmith tool. He put his foot to the door and crashed it open. Smullens girlfriend had moved fast. The apartment looked completely cleaned out, with the exception of a large upholstered couch. Probably too awkward to get down the stairs on short notice. Either end of the couch was intact. The middle of the couch was charred. And the two bodies sitting on the couch were charred. The wall behind the couch was burned black.

  “This is just like the warehouse,” I said. “Someone's doused this apartment with gasoline. There's probably a bomb in here somewhere.”

  Ranger grabbed me and shoved me out of the apartment. “Go to the second floor and get everyone out of the building.”

  I flew down the stairs and started banging on doors. I had two apartments empty and was on the third when Uncle Mickey hustled down the stairs with Ranger behind him.

  “Go to the first floor,” Ranger said to me. “I'll finish up here.”

  We had everyone on the street and sirens were wailing in the distance when flames shot out of the windows to A. The fire raced through the structure, and Ranger and I ran to the neighboring building and made sure everyone evacuated.

  The police cars were the first on the scene and then the fire trucks and paramedics. I was relieved to give the disaster over to the professionals and fade away into the crowd of bystanders. I was sweating from horror and exertion and the heat of the fire, and I was shivering with nervous energy.

  Ranger pulled me into a shadow and wrapped his arms around me. I held tight to his open jacket and tucked my face into him, trying to get my teeth to stop chattering. Ranger wasn't trembling, and he wasn't sweating. His breathing was measured and normal.

  “Breathe,” Ranger said, his voice soft against my ear. “Try to breathe deeper.”

  His calm washed into me, the shivering and chattering stopped, and tears rolled down my cheeks and soaked into his shirt.

  “I f-f-feel like an idiot,” I said to him.

  “It's just a letdown from the adrenaline rush.”

  “Why aren't you letting down?”

  “My body is more efficient at producing and using adrenaline.”

  We stood like that, locked together, for a couple more minutes, until I stopped crying. Finally, Ranger looked down at me. “How are you do-ing?”

  “I'm good.”

  “I want to talk to Tank,” Ranger said. “Stay with me.”

  “I'm pooped. I thought I'd go sit in one of the cars.”

  Ranger took my hand. “Not yet. I don't want you out of my sight.”

  “Afraid I'll burn down another building?”

  “Afraid you'll get arrested.”

  Five men in RangeMan black stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of us. Tank and Hal were among them. Ranger dismissed all but Tank.

  “Hal got to the back of the building just as the car was leaving,” Tank said. “Hal saw a rope hanging from a third-floor window. Looked like someone might have rappelled out. Hal had to turn around to follow the car, and we were both too far behind to catch him. He was really moving.”

  “Did Hal get a plate?”

  “He got a plate the first time he followed him. We've already traced it.”

  “Stolen?” Ranger asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I'm taking Stephanie home. Stay here a while longer and let me know if anything weird goes down.”

  Ranger opened his apartment door for me and walked me to the kitchen.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “Famished. And tired.”

  “I can call Ella. She'll make whatever you want. Or you can prowl through the kitchen. There's still peanut butter from the last time you were here.”

  “Peanut butter sounds perfect.”

  I shucked my coat and assembled a peanut butter and olive sandwich while Ranger leaned against the kitchen counter and punched a number into his phone.

  “Who are you calling?” I asked.

  “Morelli. Do you want him on speakerphone?”

  “No. I haven't the energy.”

  “We need to talk,” Ranger said to Morelli. “There was a second fire tonight. Two people toasted by a flamethrower. I saw them just before the building exploded. Same drill as the warehouse. Both times there were victims already burned, accelerant in the area, and there must have been an incendiary device on a timer. I'd like to see the reports. And it would be good to get a fast ID on the bodies in the apartment building tonight.”

  Morelli said something, and Ranger looked over at me.

  “No, she wasn't directly involved,” Ranger said. “She was with me the whole time. She's fine. Her hair didn't even catch fire.”

  I rolled my eyes and gave Morelli and Ranger the finger.

  “I wanted to bring this to you first,” Ranger said. “If you're unavailable, I can go to your captain. This probably could benefit from a task force.”

  Ranger flipped his phone closed and uncorked a bottle of red wine. He poured me a glass and ate an olive from the bottle.

  “Is Morelli going to run with this?” I asked.

  “He's going to make a phone call.”

  I had my sandwich made, but I was so exhausted I could hardly chew. I washed a chunk down with wine and felt all my bones dissolve. “I'm going downstairs to research flamethrowers,” Ranger said. “Ill be up later.”

  I finished the sandwich and wine and fell asleep wearing one of Rangers T-shirts. It was big and comfy, and it was the first thing I laid hands on in the dressing room.

  Sleep is very strange stuff. One minute you don't know anything, and then you're awake and life starts over. I opened my eyes to Ranger, fully dressed, standing over me, coffee cup in his hand.

  “I let you sleep as long as possible,” he said. “We have a meeting at the station in a half hour. You have ten minutes to shower and get dressed. I'm putting your coffee in the bathroom.”

  “Meeting?”

  “Fire marshal-that would be Ken Roiker-Morelli, Captain Targa, Marty Gobel. Don't know who else. We're going to give information, and we're going to get information.” He looked down at me. “If I leave, you'll get up, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You won't go back to sleep?”

 
; “No.”

  “I don't believe you. You have that go-back-to-sleep look.”

  He ripped the covers off and dragged me into the bathroom. He turned the shower on and shoved me in still wearing his T-shirt. “You are such an asshole,” I yelled at him.

  "Ten minutes/' he said. And he left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

  I was at the sink, wearing his robe with the hair dryer in my hand, when he rapped on the door. “Ten minutes are up.”

  “Bite me,” I said.

  “I've got clothes for you.”

  I stuck my head out. “You picked out my clothes?”

  “It wasn't hard. They're all the same.”

  I took the clothes, closed the door, and got dressed. Only the bra didn't have RangeMan embroidered on it.

  I gave up on the hair drying and skipped makeup. I'd take care of that in the car.

  Ranger was waiting in the kitchen. He had coffee in a travel mug and a bagel with cream cheese in a Styrofoam box. Ranger hated being late for a meeting. Only death or dismemberment or the opportunity for morning sex were considered acceptable reasons for Ranger to be late to a meeting.

  I took the coffee and bagel and trotted after Ranger out of the apartment and into the elevator.

  “Do we know any more about last night?” I asked.

  “Tank saw Joyce at the fire scene, and it sounded like she had Smullen s girlfriend with her. Other than that, no.”

  We got into the turbo and Ranger drove out of the garage. I had my coffee in the turbo's cup holder, the bagel in one hand and a mascara wand in the other. “Don't jerk around,” I said to Ranger. “I could go blind doing this.”

  “Wouldn't it be safer to do without?”

  “Yeah, but I hide behind it. I put it on when I need to feel brave.”

  “You don't need to feel brave today. Nothing bad is going to happen at this meeting.”

  “I've been sleeping in your bed, and I've got your name embroidered on my underpants, and now I'm going into a meeting where your air space is going to intersect with Morelli's.”

  “Babe, nothing's been happening in my bed, and no one's going to see your underpants in this meeting unless you go goofy.”

  We parked in the public lot and crossed the street to the municipal building. Ranger had meeting instructions, so we ignored the cop-in-a-cage and went directly to a conference room. There were six men already seated. Ranger and I took our seats, and that left one chair empty. Morelli. Morelli's chair was directly opposite mine. Ranger was to my right. Already I was sweating the seating arrangement.

  The conference room door opened, and Morelli entered. He nodded to everyone and claimed his place at the table. He looked across at me and smiled. The smile was small and intimate, and his brown eyes softened just a little for just a moment. He was in jeans and a cream sweater with the sleeves pushed to his elbows. I had no idea what was going on inside Morelli or Ranger. They looked perfectly at ease and in control. Both of them were good at hiding emotion. Both were good at compartmentalizing. I wasn't good at any of that stuff. I was a wreck inside.

  “Sorry I'm late,” Morelli said. “I had to wait for the babysitter.”

  Everyone knew Morelli had someone locked down.

  “You called this,” Targa said to Morelli. “You want to run it?”

  “Stephanie and Ranger have information they want to share with us,” Morelli said. “And they're hoping we have information to share with them.” His eyes went first to me and then to Ranger. The eyes didn't say anything. Morelli was in cop mode.

  “For reasons that are obvious, Stephanie and I have been looking for Dickie Orr,” Ranger said. “Stephanie was looking for him in the warehouse when the fire started. And we were in the apartment building last night when that fire occurred. We know that all three fire victims were dead before the fire. We know there was an accelerant in the apartment. I called and did a fast search, but I didn't find anything that looked like a bomb. And for that matter, in both instances, there was no explosion of any significance.”

  “You saw the victims before the fire?” Targa asked.

  “Stephanie saw Smullen. We both saw the two bodies in the apartment building. All three had been burned beyond recognition. The scorch trail suggested flamethrower.”

  “The accelerant was gasoline,” Roiker said. “We found the cans.”

  “Do you know how it was ignited?” Ranger asked.

  “Both times it started in a kitchen. In the case of the warehouse, it was a corner set aside for a cooler and a microwave and a toaster. The lab guys are still working, but it looks like someone rammed something that would burn into the toaster… Hell, it could have been one of those breakfast tart things. The pop-up mechanism was disabled and the toaster was wired with an interior timer. We suspect the toaster was fitted with a fuse to make sure the flames reached the accelerant, but there was no evidence of it.”

  “The flaming toaster bomb,” Marty Gobel said. “We see a lot of them.”

  Morelli cracked a smile and Ranger nudged my knee with his.

  “Have you identified the victims from the apartment fire?” Ranger asked.

  “Working on it. Not a lot left of them. The explosion was set closer and the fire burned hotter.”

  “We saw Rufus Caine enter the building. And we believe he was meeting Victor Gorvich,” Ranger said. “Tank was watching, and he didn't see either man come out the front of the building. Someone rappelled out a back window.”

  Stephanie Plum 13 - Lean Mean Thirteen

  Ranger didn't share information on the drug connection or the missing $40 million, and no one mentioned Dickie Orr.

  Five minutes before the meeting closed, Morelli's phone buzzed and he went outside to take the call and never returned. At eleven o'clock, Ranger and I left the building and buckled ourselves into the Porsche.

  “Do you think he was pulling our leg on the toaster?” I asked Ranger.

  “No. He's not that clever. I did a fast run through the apartment, looking for an incendiary, and didn't see anything. Smullen s girlfriend had taken everything except the couch and the toaster. I saw the toaster and didn't give it a second look.”

  “Next time we enter a building soaked in gasoline, we'll think to unplug the toaster.”

  Ranger glanced in his rearview mirror when we were a block from RangeMan. “It looks like Joyce got her Mercedes running.”

  I turned and looked out the back window. Joyce was a car length behind us.

  “I have to give her credit,” I said. “She's good.”

  “She's too good,” Ranger said. “She's finding us on the road.”

  He keyed himself into the underground garage and parked in his space in front of the elevator.

  “Do you have plans for today?” he asked me. “I can give you paperwork if you haven't anything better to do.”

  “I have two skips I'm working on. I thought I'd check on them.”

  “If you're going to leave your bag anywhere, please take the monitor with you. Put it in your pocket.”

  “Is it okay if I only take one?”

  “How many do you have?”

  “Three.”

  Ranger sat there for a beat. “I only planted one.”

  “Shit.”

  We rode the elevator to Rangers apartment, went inside, and I emptied my bag onto the kitchen counter.

  Ranger picked a pen out of the mess. “This is mine.”

  I took it from him and put it into my pocket.

  “This lipstick is another one,” I said, handing him the tube.

  “I'm guessing this is from Joyce,” Ranger said. “You can buy these in The Spy Store.”

  “And the third.” I gave him what looked like a menthol cough drop in a paper wrapper.

  “This is good,” Ranger said, examining the cough drop. “Super small. Well disguised. How did you discover it?”

  “I tried to eat it.”

  “That's the flaw. You can write with my pen.”


  “This is so creepy. Three people planted a transmitter on me, and I never knew they were doing it. What else am I missing? We know one of the transmitters belongs to you, and you planted it on me to protect me. We suspect the second belongs to Joyce, and she wanted me to lead her to Dickie. So what does this third one represent?”

  “It could be as simple as one more person with the same agenda as Joyce. One of the partners who thought you might lead him to Dickie and the money. Maybe someone was casting a wide net. Maybe Joyce is walking around with a transmitter in her bag too.”