Hard Eight, Page 26

  “We're working overtime, trying to find Evelyn, canvassing the neighborhoods for witnesses, but so far there hasn't been a break. Abruzzi's got himself well protected.”

  “Do you need to talk to my mom about the rabbit thing?”

  “Were there any witnesses?”

  “Only the two guys in the car.”

  “We don't usually write up accidents involving rabbits. This was a rabbit, right?”

  MORELLI DECLINED DINNER. I couldn't blame him. Valerie had Kloughn home with her, and the table was standing room only.

  “Isn't he the cute one,” Grandma whispered to me in the kitchen. “Just like the Pillsbury Doughboy.”

  After dinner I got my dad to drive me home.

  “What do you think of this clown?” he asked on the way. “He seems to be sweet on Valerie. Do you think there's any chance this could turn into something?”

  “He didn't get up and leave when Grandma asked him if he was a virgin. I thought that was a good sign.”

  “Yeah, he hung in there. He must really be desperate if he's willing to get involved with this family. Has anyone told him the horse kid belongs to Valerie?”

  I figured there wasn't a problem with Mary Alice. Kloughn probably had empathy for a kid who was different. What Kloughn might not understand was Valerie in the fluffy pink slippers. Probably we should make sure he never sees the slippers.

  It was almost nine when my dad dropped me off. The parking lot was filled and lights were on in all the apartment windows. The seniors were settled in for the night, victims of failing night vision and television addiction. By nine o'clock they were happy campers, having self-medicated with tumblers of booze and Diagnosis Murder. At 10:00 they'd pop a little white pill and hurl themselves into hours of sleep apnea.

  I approached my front door and decided I'd been hasty in rejecting Ranger's security system. It would be nice to know if someone was waiting for me inside. I had my gun shoved into the waistband of my jeans. And I had a plan outlined in my head. My plan was to open the door, take the gun in hand, flip all the lights on, and do another embarrassing imitation of a television cop.

  The kitchen was easy to cover. Nothing there. The living room and dining room were next. Again, easy to take in. The bathroom was more tense. I had the shower curtain to contend with. I needed to remember not to close the shower curtain. I ripped the shower curtain open and let out a whoosh of air. No one dead in my tub.

  At first glance, my bedroom was fine. Unfortunately, I knew from past experience that the bedroom was filled with hiding places for all sorts of nasty things, like snakes. I looked under the bed and in all my drawers. I opened my closet door and let out another whoosh of air. Nobody here. I'd gone through the entire apartment and not found anyone, dead or alive. I could lock myself in and feel perfectly safe.

  I was leaving the bedroom when it hit me. A visual memory of something odd. Something out of place. I returned to my closet and opened the door. And there it was, hanging with the rest of my clothes, smashed between my suede jacket and a denim shirt. The rabbit suit.

  I snapped on rubber gloves, removed the rabbit suit from my closet, and deposited it in the elevator. I didn't want another full-scale crime-scene investigation assault on my apartment. I used the pay phone in the lobby to put in an anonymous call to the police about the suit in the elevator. And then I returned to my apartment and slid Ghostbusters into the DVD player.

  Halfway through Ghostbusters I got a call from Morelli. “You wouldn't happen to know anything about the rabbit suit in your elevator, would you?”

  “Who me?”

  “Off the record, out of morbid curiosity, where did you find it?”

  “It was hanging in my closet.”

  “Christ.”

  “Do you suppose this means the rabbit no longer needs the suit?” I asked.

  I DIALED RANGER first thing the next morning. “About that security system,” I said.

  “Are you still having visitors?”

  “I found a rabbit suit in my closet last night.”

  “Anybody in it?”

  “Nope. Just the suit.”

  “I'll send Hector.”

  “Hector scares the hell out of me.”

  “Yeah, me, too,” Ranger said. “But he hasn't killed anybody in over a year now. And he's gay. You're probably safe.”

  Stephanie Plum 8 - Hard Eight

  15

  THE NEXT CALL was from Morelli. “I just got into work, and I heard an interesting piece of information,” Morelli said to me. “Do you know Leo Klug?”

  “No.”

  “He's a butcher at Sal Carto's Meat Market. Your mother probably gets her kielbasa there. Leo is about my height but heavier. He has a scar running the length of his face. Black hair.”

  “Okay. I know who you mean. I was in there a couple weeks ago, picking up some sausage, and he waited on me.”

  “It's pretty well known here that Klug has done some contract butchering.”

  “You're not talking about cows.”

  “Cows are the day job,” Morelli said.

  “I have a feeling I'm not going to like the direction of this conversation.”

  “Lately, Klug has been hanging out with a couple guys who work for Abruzzi. And this morning, Klug turned up dead, the victim of a hit-and-run.”

  “Omigod.”

  “He was found on the side of the road half a block from the butcher shop.”

  “Any idea who hit him?”

  “No, but statistics are high for a drunk driver.”

  We pondered that for a moment.

  “Probably your mother should run the LeSabre through a car wash,” Morelli said.

  “Holy crap. My mother killed Leo Klug.”

  “I didn't hear that,” Morelli said.

  I got off the phone and made some coffee. I scrambled an egg and popped a piece of bread into the toaster. Stephanie Plum, domestic goddess. I sneaked out into the hall, swiped Mr. Wolesky's paper, and read it with my breakfast.

  I was returning the paper when Ranger and Hector stepped out of the elevator.

  “I know where she is,” Ranger said. “I just got a call. Let's roll.”

  I cut my eyes to Hector.

  “Don't worry about Hector,” Ranger said.

  I grabbed my bag and a jacket and ran to keep up with Ranger. He was driving the bug-eyed truck again. I hauled myself up to seat level and buckled in.

  “Where is she?”

  “Newark Airport. Jeanne Ellen was returning with her FTA, and she saw Dotty and Evelyn and the kids in the waiting area one gate over. I had Tank check on their flight. It was scheduled to take off at ten but it's been delayed an hour. We should be able to get there in time.”

  “Where were they going?”

  “Miami.”

  Traffic was heavy through Trenton. It eased up for a while and then got heavy again on the Turnpike. Fortunately, the flow on the Turnpike was steady. Good Jersey traffic. The kind that gets your adrenaline going. Bumper to bumper at eighty miles an hour.

  I looked at my watch when we took the airport exit. It was almost 10:00. A few minutes later, Ranger swung into the Delta passenger drop-off and stopped at the curb. “It's getting tight,” he said. “You go ahead while I park. If you have a gun on you, you have to leave it in the truck.”

  I gave him my gun and took off. I checked the departures monitor when I entered the terminal. The flight was now on time. Still leaving from the same gate. I cracked my knuckles while I stood in line at the security check. I was so close to Evelyn and Annie. It would be a killer headache if I missed them here.

  I passed through security and followed the signs to the gate. I was moving down the corridor, and I was looking at everyone. I scanned ahead, and I saw Evelyn and Dotty and the kids, two gates away. They were sitting, waiting. Nothing unusual about them. A couple moms and their kids, going to Florida.

  I quietly approached them and sat in the empty seat next to Evelyn. “We need
to talk,” I said.

  They seemed only mildly surprised. As if nothing could surprise them much anymore. They both looked tired. Their clothes looked slept in. The kids were amusing each other, being loud and obnoxious. The sort of kids you see all the time in airports. Strung out.

  “I meant to call you,” Evelyn said. “I would have called when we got to Miami. You should tell Grammy I'm okay.”

  “I want to know why you're running. And if you don't tell me I'm going to make problems for you. I'm going to stop you from leaving.”

  “No.” Evelyn said. “Please don't do that. It's important that we catch this plane.”

  The first boarding announcement went out.

  “The Trenton police are looking for you,” I said. “You're wanted for questioning for two murders. I can call security and have you brought back to Trenton.”

  Evelyn's face went white. “He'll kill me.”

  “Abruzzi?”

  She nodded.

  “Maybe you should tell her,” Dotty said. “We haven't got much time.”

  “When Steven lost the bar to Abruzzi, Abruzzi came over to the house with his men and he did something to me.”

  I felt myself instinctively suck in some air. “I'm sorry,” I said.

  “It was his way of making us afraid. He's like a cat with a mouse. He likes to play before he kills. And he likes to dominate women.”

  “You should have gone to the police.”

  “He would have killed me before I got to testify. Or worse, he might have done something to Annie. The legal system moves too slow with a man like Abruzzi.”

  “Why is he after you now?” Ranger had already told me the answer, but I wanted to hear it from Evelyn.

  "Abruzzi is a war nut. He plays war games. And he collects medals and things. And he had one medal that he kept on his desk. I guess it was his favorite medal because it belonged to Napoleon.

  “Anyway, when Steven and I got divorced the court gave Steven visitation rights. He got Annie every Saturday. A couple weeks ago Abruzzi had a birthday party at his house for his daughter, and he demanded that Steven bring Annie.”

  “Was Annie friends with Abruzzi's daughter?”

  "No. It was just Abruzzi's way of asserting his power. He's always doing things like that. He calls the people around him his troops. And they have to treat him like the Godfather or Napoleon or some big general. So he gave this party for his daughter and the troops were all supposed to attend with their kids.

  “Steven was considered one of the troops. He lost the bar to Abruzzi, and it was like Abruzzi owned him after that. Steven didn't like losing the bar, but I think he liked belonging to Abruzzi's family. Made him feel like a big shot to be associated with someone everyone was afraid of.”

  Until he got sawed in half.

  “Anyway, while the party was going on, Annie wandered into Abruzzi's office, spotted the medal on Abruzzi's desk, and took it back to the party to show the rest of the children. No one paid much attention and, somehow, the medal got stuffed into Annie's pocket. And she brought it home.”

  There was a second boarding call and from the corner of my eye I could see Ranger standing at a distance, watching.

  “Keep going,” I said. “There's still time.”

  “As soon as I saw the medal I knew what it was.”

  “Your ticket out?”

  "Yes. As long as I was in Trenton, Abruzzi would own Annie and me. And I had no money to leave. No job skills. And worse, there was the divorce agreement. But the medal was worth a lot of money. Abruzzi used to brag about it all the time.

  “So I packed up and left. I was out of the house an hour after the medal walked in. I went to Dotty for help because I didn't know where else to go. Until I sold the medal I didn't have any money.”

  “Unfortunately, it takes time to sell a medal like that,” Dotty said. “And it had to be done quietly.”

  A tear slid down Evelyn's cheek. “I made a mess of it for Dotty. Now she's dragged into it and can't get out.”

  Dotty was keeping watch over the pack of kids. “It'll work out okay,” she said. But she didn't look like she believed it.

  “What about the pictures Annie drew in her pad?” I asked. “They were pictures of people getting shot. I thought maybe she witnessed a murder.”

  “If you look more closely you'll see the men are wearing medals. She drew the pictures while I was packing. Everyone who came into contact with Abruzzi, even children, knew about war and killing and medals. It was an obsession.”

  I suddenly felt very defeated. There was nothing here for me. No witness to a murder. No one who could help remove Abruzzi from my life.

  “We have a buyer waiting for us in Miami,” Dotty said. “I sold my car to get these tickets.”

  “Can you trust this buyer?”

  “He seems to be okay. And I have a friend meeting us at the airport. He's a pretty sharp guy, and he's going to oversee the transaction. I think the transaction is pretty simple. We hand over the medal. Some expert examines it. And Evelyn gets a suitcase filled with money.”

  “Then what?”

  “We'll probably have to stay hidden. Start a new life somewhere. If Abruzzi gets caught or killed, we can come home.”

  I had no reason to detain them. I thought they'd made some bad choices, but who was I to judge? “Good luck,” I said. “Keep in touch. And call Mabel. She worries about you.”

  Evelyn jumped up and hugged me. Dotty gathered the kids together, and they all toddled off to Miami.

  Ranger came over and slung an arm around me. “They told you a sob story, didn't they?”

  “Yep.”

  He smiled and kissed me on the top of my head. “You really should think about getting into a different line of work. Grooming kitty cats, maybe. Or floral design.”

  “It was very convincing.”

  “Did the little girl witness a murder?”

  “No. She stole a medal that was worth a suitcase full of money.”

  Ranger raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Good for her. I like to see enterprise in kids.”

  “I haven't got a murder witness. And the bear and the rabbit are dead. I think I'm fucked.”

  “Maybe after lunch,” he said. “My treat.”

  “You mean lunch is your treat?”

  “That, too. I know a place here in Newark that makes Shorty's look like a sissy joint.”

  Oh boy.

  “And by the way, I checked your thirty-eight when you left it in the truck. You only have two bullets in it. I have this sinking feeling that the gun will go back to the cookie jar when you empty the cylinder.”

  I smiled at Ranger. I can be mysterious, too.

  RANGER PAGED HECTOR when we were on our way home, and Hector was in front of my apartment, waiting for us when we stepped out of the elevator. He handed the new keypad to Ranger, and he smiled at me and made a gun with his fist and forefinger. “Bang,” he said.

  “Pretty good,” I said to Ranger. “Hector's learning English.”

  Ranger flipped me the keypad, and he left with Hector.

  I let myself into my apartment, and I stood in my kitchen. Now what? Now I had to hang out and wonder when Abruzzi would come for me. What form would it take? And how awful would it be? Awful beyond my imaginings, probably.

  If I was my mother I'd be ironing. My mother ironed under stress. Stay far away from my mother when she is ironing. If I was Mabel I'd be baking. What about Grandma Mazur? That was an easy one. The Weather Channel. So what do I do? I eat Tastykakes.

  Okay, there's my problem. I haven't got any Tastykakes. I'd had a burger with Ranger, but I'd skipped dessert. And now I needed a Tastykake. Without a Tastykake I was left to sit here and worry about Abruzzi. Unfortunately, I had no way of taking myself out to Tastykake Land because I didn't have a car. I was still waiting for the stupid insurance check to arrive.

  Hey, hold the phone. I could walk to the convenience store. Four blocks. Not the sort of thing a Jersey gi
rl ordinarily did, but what the hell. I had my gun back in my bag with two bullets ready and waiting. That was a confidence builder. I would have shoved it under the waistband of my jeans like Ranger and Joe, but there wasn't room. Probably I should restrict myself to just one Tastykake.

  I locked up and took the stairs to the first floor. I didn't live in a fancy building. It was kept clean, and it was adequately maintained. It had been built without frills. And for that matter, without quality. Still, it was enduring. It had a back door and a front door and both doors opened to a small foyer. The stairs and the elevator also opened to the foyer. Mailboxes banked one wall. The floor was tiled. Management had added a potted palm and two wingback chairs in an attempt to compensate for the lack of a swimming pool.