‘Going Rogue’ Chapters 1-4

“Technically I’m not an armored-car robber,” he said. “I only attempted to rob it.”

“How’d you shoot yourself in the foot?” Grandma asked.

“The guard handed me a bag of money, and it was heavier than I thought it would be. I dropped it on my foot and when I went to pick it up, I guess I squeezed the trigger on the gun.”

“I could see that happening,” Grandma said. “You don’t look like you’ve got a lot of muscle. You should work out when you get sent to the big house.”

“While we’re on the subject,” I said. “You missed your court date. You need to come with us to get rebonded.”

“He never used to miss a date,” Mrs. Beedle said. “He kept a calendar, and he always knew everyone’s birthday. And he was right on time with filing taxes.”

“I’m a new man now,” Carpenter said. “I don’t pay taxes. I don’t make enough money. I lead a simple life.”

“His wife left him, and he snapped,” Mrs. Beedle said.

“Good riddance,” Carpenter said. “She was just one more encumbrance.”

“You might like prison,” Grandma said. “I don’t think you got a lot of encumbrances there as long as you don’t mind being locked up.”

Carpenter pushed back from the table. “This won’t take long, will it?” he asked me. “I don’t want to miss the lunch crowd. I have some regulars at lunchtime.”

“No problem,” I said.

So, here’s the thing about being a bounty hunter. You do a lot of fibbing. Especially to first-time offenders who don’t know anything about the system. If you told them the truth, they might not cooperate. The truth in this case wasn’t good. Carpenter was going to have to sit in jail until Vinnie got back in town. An alternative was to find another bail bondsman. And even worse news, his mother would have to guarantee a new bond and she probably didn’t have a second car.

+++

I left Grandma in the car and walked Carpenter into the municipal building that housed the police department. I handed him over to the desk lieutenant and told him I would have Vinnie get in touch as soon as he got back in town. I left the building and ran into Morelli in the parking lot. On a good day, Morelli is six feet of lean muscle and Italian charm dressed up in a button-down shirt, jeans, and running shoes. This morning he was six feet of bad attitude. His wavy black hair was soaking wet and slicked back. The rest of him was equally wet and splattered with mud. His shirt was in tatters. His face looked like it had been clawed by a panther. His right eye was almost swollen shut.

“Omigod,” I said. “What happened to you? Are you okay?”

“Road rage incident on the Stark Street bridge. I was stuck in traffic, two cars back from the scene. Two women, out of their cars, beating the crap out of each other. I got between them, and they both attacked me. A second motorist came to help, we got the women separated, and one of them jumped off the bridge.”

“So, you jumped in after her?”

“It was more like I dangled and dropped. It was close to the bank on the Trenton side. I grabbed her and dragged her out.”

“Was she all right?”

“She broke her leg. The water was only about ten feet deep. She’s lucky she didn’t go off headfirst.”

“Is there something I can do? You’re bleeding and your eye is swelling. Do you want to see a doctor?”

“I’m okay. I’m going in to collect some things and then I’m headed home. What brings you here?”

“I dropped off Carpenter Beedle. FTA. He’s the guy who tried to rob the armored car and ended up shooting himself in the foot.”

I wanted to talk to Morelli about his grandmother and about Connie, but he was dripping river water and the scratches were still oozing blood.

“I need to talk to you when you’re dry and not bleeding,” I said. “How about dinner? I’ll get takeout.”

“Sounds good.”

I crossed the lot to my car and slid behind the wheel.

“Was that Morelli you were talking to?” Grandma asked. “I could hardly recognize him with his hair slicked back.”

“He hauled a woman out of the Delaware.”

“He’s such a hero,” Grandma said. “And he looks good even when he’s wet.”

This was all true.

“Now what?” Grandma asked.

“I’m going to the office to see how Lula is managing.”

+++

Lula was at Connie’s desk when Grandma and I walked in.

“It took me a couple hours to figure it out, but this is where I belong,” Lula said. “There’s almost nothing to do. All I have to do is sit here and look important. And I got a lot of authority now that I’m behind Connie’s computer. I already ordered some new magazine subscriptions. And I’m thinking about getting a new couch.”

“Connie’s only been gone for a couple of hours,” I said. “It’s not as if she’s not coming back.”

“Sure, I know that,” Lula said, “but I figure I should put myself to good use while I’m here. I’m a born organizer. I’m one of those take-charge people. And I look excellent behind a desk.”

“You do look pretty good,” Grandma said. “And the yellow braids brighten up the room and give a good contrast to your skin.”

“It’s like I’m an M&M,” Lula said. “Chocolate on the inside and a splash of color on the outside.”

“Have you heard from Connie or Vinnie?” I asked Lula.

“Nothing,” Lula said. “I’ve been listening to the police calls, but no one’s mentioned Connie, and I don’t want to hear from Vinnie. I don’t see where we even need him. I got everything under control here. I’m so organized I’ve got my lunch ordered already. And it’s getting delivered so I don’t have to leave my desk. Turns out this desk comes with petty cash.”

“We’re doing good, too,” Grandma said. “We already made a recovery. Carpenter Beedle.”

“How’s his foot?” Lula asked.

“It’s okay,” Grandma said. “He has it in one of those orthopedic-sandal things.”

“Pull up Connie’s calendar on her computer,” I said to Lula. “See if she has anything on there for today.”

“I already did that,” Lula said. “There’s nothing for today, but she has a dentist appointment tomorrow at four o’clock.”

“Maybe it got switched to this morning at the last minute,” Grandma said. “Maybe she’s at the dentist.”

“I guess that could be it,” Lula said.

I nodded.

No one said anything. Grandma fidgeted with her purse and Lula stared blank-faced at the computer screen. No one believed Connie was at the dentist. Connie would have told us that she wouldn’t be in until later.

“Bummer,” Grandma finally said.

I nodded again.

My mother called me. “Where are you?” she asked. “Is your grandmother still with you? Are you coming home for lunch?”

“I’m at the office,” I said. “Grandma’s with me, and we’ll be home for lunch.”

I hung up and Grandma started for the door. “Let’s not waste a lot of time on lunch. We still got two more felons to catch.”

“There’s no rush,” I said. “I’m not going to go after Bella until I talk to Morelli.”

“Well, I want to be there when you do the takedown. That woman’s been a thorn in my side for as long as I can remember. And she thinks she owns the funeral home. She scuttles around, threatening to give everybody the eye if they get in her way. People are afraid to take a cookie when she comes over to the refreshment table.”

“How about you?” Lula asked. “Are you afraid to take a cookie?”

“Heck no,” Grandma said. “I know the cookies she likes. She goes after the pignoli. So, if I see her at a viewing, I shove all the pignoli into my purse before she can get to them.”

 

Chapter Three

My mom was setting the kitchen table when we walked in. “I made minestrone soup this morning and we have bread from Italian Peoples,” she said.

Butter and the bread slices were already on the table.

“It’s a good day for soup,” Grandma said. “There’s a chill in the air.”

“Did you get your shampoo?” my mom asked Grandma.

“They were all out,” Grandma said. “Stephanie’s going to take me to the mall after lunch.”

My mother looked at me. Slitty-eyed. “I’m holding you responsible,” she said. “Don’t let her shoot anybody and keep her out of the strip clubs.”

I nodded. “Understood.”

“I don’t hardly ever go to strip clubs,” Grandma said. “Although I do like to look at the men dancers. Some of them have real good moves.”

I saw my mother’s eyes cut to the over-the-counter cabinet alongside the sink where she keeps her whiskey stash. No doubt debating if it was too early to have a nip.

Grandma took a bowl of soup to the table and checked email on her smartphone while she ate.

“Look at this,” she said. “Len Leoni died. Margie Wisneski says they think he threw a clot. He’s having a viewing on Wednesday. That’s going to be a good one. He was a big deal in the Knights of Columbus.” Grandma took a piece of bread and dunked it into her soup. “Crazy Bella will be there. The Morellis and the Leonis are neighbors. And one of the Leoni girls married into the Morelli family. A second cousin, I think. You should go to the viewing with me, and we’ll take Bella down at the cookie table.”

My mother sucked in some air. “You wouldn’t!”

“Of course not,” I said.

“I’d do it in a heartbeat,” Grandma said.

“You have no authority,” my mother said to Grandma. “You don’t work for Vinnie. And even if you did work for Vinnie, it would be a horrible thing to do. It would be disrespectful to the deceased.”

“Okay,” Grandma said. “How about if we get Bella in the parking lot before or after?”

“There will be no getting Bella,” my mother said to me. “For goodness’ sake, get someone else. Someone we don’t know. I’m sure you have a whole laundry list of people to get.”

“Not so many,” I said. “They skip town. They die. They get picked up by other bounty hunters. And a surprising number of the accused actually show up for court.”

Grandma finished her soup and brought the cookie jar to the table. “I always like to have a sweet after a meal,” she said. “We didn’t do cookie baking this weekend, but we’ve got Oreos.”

Twenty minutes later, I was back in my Honda CR-V with Grandma.

“I don’t suppose I could talk you into tracking down Bella?” she said.

“Not today.”

I wound my way out of the Burg to State Street, took State for two blocks, and turned onto Connie’s street. I drove to her house and idled at the curb. Her car wasn’t in the driveway. I called Lula and asked if she’d heard from Connie.

“No,” Lula said. “Nothing from Connie. Only person called was some loser who wanted Vinnie. Said he had to talk to him. So, I told him I was the only one here, and he could talk to me or no one. So, he hangs up and then ten minutes later he calls back. He tells me that Vinnie is gonna want to talk to him on account of he has something that belongs to Vinnie. So, I ask him what it is, and he says it’s none of my business and that it’s between him and Vinnie. He said Vinnie has something of his, and he’s gonna keep this thing of Vinnie’s until he gets his own thing back. So, I tell him I don’t give a rat’s ass about any of this. Honest to goodness, as if I haven’t got anything better to do than to waste my time on someone who doesn’t listen to what I’m saying. Vinnie isn’t here to talk to you. How hard is that to understand?”

An alarm went off in my brain. What if the something this person has is Connie?

“Did you get a phone number?” I asked Lula.

“Hell no. It was probably one of those scam calls that turns out to be for phony car insurance.”

The thought stuck with me. The storeroom looked like it had been searched. And Connie was missing. Vinnie has something that’s mine and now I have something that belongs to him, the caller had said. Yes, but something is different from someone, I told myself. Too early to panic. And even if Connie had been snatched, it wasn’t death and destruction. Vinnie would simply have to return whatever it was that the man wanted. Most likely something that had been posted for bail.

“If he calls again hand him over to me,” I said to Lula.

“Whatever,” Lula said. “Lord knows I got more important things to do. I gotta pick out fabric for the new couch. And I need a new desk chair. This chair I’m in has no personality, you see what I’m saying?”

“You should run all this by Vinnie before you order,” I said to Lula.

“Like heck,” Lula said. “He’ll say no. He’s a big cheapskate and he has no taste.”

This is true. He’s also a sexual deviant who cheats on his wife, cheats at cards, and is a compulsive gambler, and his pants are too tight. As Grandma puts it, he’s a festering pimple on our family’s behind. Setting all this aside, he’s a good bail bondsman. And our boss.

“What was that phone call all about with Lula?” Grandma asked.

“She hasn’t heard from Connie and she’s busy redecorating the office. She also had a phone call from someone who said Vinni has something that belongs to him, and now he has something that belongs to Vinnie.”

“Probably one of those scam calls about phony car insurance,” Grandma said. “They’ve got all kinds of gimmicks to suck you into signing up.”

“I thought it might have been about Connie.”

“That would have been my second guess,” Grandma said. “Now what?”

“We wait for him to call back.”

“That’s uncomfortable. Don’t you think we should go proactive?”

“I have no starting point. I ran down the few leads I had. And I have no real proof that Connie is in trouble.”

I dialed Vinnie.

“Now what?” Vinnie said.

“Connie is still missing.”

“Maybe she’s having a hot flash somewhere.”

“Lula is taking her place in the office and—”

“Hold on. Are you shitting me?”

“Someone has to take phone calls, so Lula is in the office.”

“Okay, now you have my attention. Get her out of the office and lock the door so she can’t get back in.”

“I can’t do that. It’s important that someone answers the phone. A man called in asking to talk to you. He said you have something that belongs to him and now he has something that belongs to you. Lula told him you weren’t there and to call back.”

“And?”

“And it’s possible that he has Connie.”

“And you’ve figured this out, how?”

“When we let ourselves in through the back door, I noticed that the storeroom looked messy. Like someone had been looking for something. And then Connie never showed up for work. She stopped at the bakery and got the usual box of doughnuts, but she hasn’t been at her desk.”

“No doughnuts left on the desk?” Vinnie asked.

“No doughnuts left on the desk,” I said.

“Maybe it’s that time of the month, she ate all the doughnuts before she got to the office, and she’s sleeping it off in some parking lot.”

“When are you getting back?”

“Tonight. Late tonight.”

“And you’ll be in the office in the morning?”

“Yeah. What are you, my wife?”

“I’m not even happy that I’m your cousin.”

Grandma looked at me when I hung up. “How’d that go?”

“As expected,” I said.

“Are we going after another FTA slimeball?”

“Yup. Brad Winter. Wanted for blackmail.”

“Classy.”

“Afraid not. He slept with a bunch of married women, videoed their encounters with a hidden camera, and blackmailed them.”

“That’s a real clever crime,” Grandma said. “If you press charges against him, you know people are going to be looking at the videos. And your husband isn’t going to be happy.”

I thumbed through Winter’s file. “He lives on Oak Street.”

“That’s a nice part of town,” Grandma said. “Mostly new townhouses from where they tore down the toilet factory. It was called the porcelain factory, but everyone knew they made toilets. Not that there’s any shame in making toilets.”

I plugged the address into my GPS system and ten minutes later we were parked across the street from Winter’s red brick and white vinyl clapboard townhouse. Postage-stamp front yard that was neat grass with a perfectly shaped row of small shrubs bordering the house. Two steps led to a large stoop and mahogany-colored front door.

“This is real classy,” Grandma said. “You could tell he’s got money. I bet his bushes were shaped by a gardener. What’s he look like?”

“Forty-two years old. Five foot ten. Brown eyes. Brown hair cut short. Average build. Nice looking.”

I rang the bell and Winter answered. Naked.

“Here’s something I don’t get to see every day,” Grandma said, staring at his privates.

“Catch you at a bad time?” I asked.

“Nope. I was just hanging out,” he said. “What can I do you for?”

I introduced myself, showed him the badge I got on Amazon, and explained that he’d missed his court date and needed to reschedule.

He looked surprised. “Really? I didn’t know I had a court date. No one told me.”

“It’s not a problem,” I said. “Happens all the time. Get dressed and I’ll drive you downtown to get a new date.”

“Thanks, but that’s not necessary. I can drive myself. Thanks for stopping by to tell me.”

“Unfortunately, you’re officially a felon now and I need to accompany you to the courthouse. Get dressed.”

“A felon? Whoa, where’d that come from?”

“Not my idea,” I said. “It’s the law. You failed to appear for a court date and that makes you a felon.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Are you going to get dressed or are we taking you downtown naked?”

He smiled wide, showing perfect white teeth and dimples. “Really? Would you really take me in naked?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again.”

“I have a better idea,” he said. “Why don’t you and your sister come in and we’ll socialize a little. Have a glass of wine. Get to know each other. Then I’ll get dressed and we can all go wherever you want.”

“I’m not actually her sister,” Grandma said, all smiles.

He winked at Grandma, and I clapped a cuff on his right wrist.

He turned his attention to the handcuffs. “Kinky.”

“You’re a sick person,” I said, cuffing his other wrist.

“I’m not sick,” he said. “I’m fun.”

“You’re also a blackmailer.”

“I prefer to think of myself as a businessman. I provide a service and then I expect compensation.”

“Go to his bedroom and get something that will cover him,” I said to Grandma.

Grandma came back with a sheet. “You should see his bedroom,” she said. “His bed is huge. One of those king-sized ones.”

“Room for three, if you’re into that sort of thing,” Winter said.

I wrapped the sheet around him and tugged him to the door and down the steps. Grandma closed the door behind us, and we were about to cross the street when a Mercedes sedan slid to a stop in front of us. Four women got out and rushed at Grandma and me. They were in their late thirties to early forties. All had blond hair that was perfectly cut and colored. Minimal makeup. Diamond studs in their ears, and the diamonds didn’t look fake. All wearing gym clothes. Lycra leggings and warm-up jackets. One of them drew a gun and the other three grabbed Winter and shoved him into the backseat of the Mercedes.

“Sorry,” the woman with the gun said to me. “You’re going to have to wait your turn. You can have him when we’re done with him.”

“I’m bail bond enforcement,” I said, handing her my card.

“Whatever,” she said. “We’ll gift wrap him and bring him back here tomorrow. I’ll make sure you get your cuffs back.”

She jumped into the front passenger seat and the car sped away.

“That was weird,” Grandma said.

“Yeah, welcome to my world.”

“I could see where the ladies like him,” Grandma said. “He’s a cutie pie. He has dimples. And he has a way with words. He thought I was your sister. I think the new moisturizer I’m using must be working.” She thought for a couple beats. “He was sort of kidnapped. Should we tell the police?”

Reporting a kidnapping would involve time and paperwork. I’d have to explain to multiple people how I took my grandmother with me to make a capture and then gave him up at gunpoint to four women. And when I told the police that the women had promised to give him back to me tomorrow, they’d just grimace and file the paperwork away in a bottom drawer.

“It wasn’t exactly a kidnapping,” I said. “I mean, they promised to bring him back.”

+++

I took Grandma home and then went to the office.

“Have you heard anything from Connie?” I asked Lula.

“No,” she said. “I called all the hospitals, and I called her mama. It’s like she vanished.”

“How’s her mother doing?”

“She didn’t sound all that worried. She’s not used to seeing Connie all day like we are. She doesn’t have a sense that this isn’t normal Connie behavior.”

“Maybe we’re overreacting. Maybe Connie needed to get away. Have a moment. She carries a lot of responsibility between her mother and her job.”

“I guess that could be it,” Lula said. “Sometimes I feel like I want to get away from my responsibilities. Not to do with my mama, though, on account of she’s real independent. A bunch of years ago she retired and went to live with my Aunt Sue in Georgia. They’ve got a dog-sitting business there and Aunt Sue works part-time at a nail salon. She specializes in acrylics. My responsibilities are to do with my appearance. I have high standards. I gotta keep my wardrobe organized and make sure I’m accessorized properly. And hair and nails like I got don’t just happen. It’s all responsibility, you see what I’m saying? What about you?”

The first thing that came to mind was my job. I barely made enough money to pay my rent and buy food. I spent a lot of time in smelly, bad neighborhoods chasing down smelly, bad people. And there was no prestige attached to it. Bail bond enforcement was on a level with cesspool maintenance and grave robbing when it came to public opinion.

“Don’t you ever want to run away?” Lula repeated.

“Yeah. All the time, but only for a couple minutes and then I get over it.”

“I hear you. That’s my problem too. I looked it up one time. It’s that we have too much inertia because we only got short-term dissatisfaction. It’s on account of we’re too well adjusted. We got self-esteem and it’s what’s keeping us from being supermodels or entrepreneurial billionaires. You gotta have some deep-seated feelings of inferiority to be a real big success. Like it helps if you have a little dick. Going with that line of reasoning, we should have been the ones to invent Google bein’ that we got no dick at all, only it don’t work like that since we got balls. If you got balls, you don’t necessarily feel inferior even if you haven’t got a dick. Course I’m speaking metaphorically.”

I thought Lula was right about the inertia, but I suspected my disinclination to flee had less to do with my self-esteem and more to do with a lack of lofty aspiration. Somewhere in my preteen years it became apparent that I was not destined to be an Avenger, and it was all downhill after that. Everything else seemed lackluster. So, I aimlessly drifted through college and ended up in retail selling bargain-basement ladies’ undies. And now I’m a bounty hunter and I still haven’t found a lofty aspiration. So, what’s the point of running away if you have nowhere you want to go?

Or here’s a scary thought—maybe I’ve come to like being a bounty hunter. Omigod!

“What is it?” Lula asked. “You look like you just found Jesus, only he turned out to be Donald Duck.”

I waved it away. “I was just thinking about my job . . . and about Connie.”

“Yeah, thinking about Connie could give you the grimaces. I’m staying here until four o’clock and then I’m going home and watch some happy movies and eat a couple pizzas so I can get rid of this scary feeling. This is like when you’re walking down a dark street at night and you get the feeling someone’s waiting ahead, behind a bush, and he’s gonna jump out and stab you forty-five times with a butcher knife. And you can’t get rid of the feeling and you have to keep walking ’cause that’s the only way to get home.”

I was walking down that same street right now, with the same horrible sense of foreboding. Connie and Lula and I had been through a lot together, and it was understood that we would always be there for each other. It was unthinkable that Connie would be out of our lives for a day or, God forbid, forever. I hiked my messenger bag higher up on my shoulder. “I’m going to ride around and look for Connie’s car. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

+++

I cruised all of Connie’s haunts. Her neighborhood, including all the back alleys. Her favorite restaurants. Her nail salon and hair salon. Food stores, delis, the liquor store, and the train station. I checked out mall parking lots and the chop shop on Stark Street. I drove past the bail bonds office one last time and continued on to Pino’s Italian Bar and Grille to pick up dinner.

Connie’s car was parked in Pino’s lot. It was at the far side by the dumpster. I parked on the opposite side of the lot and walked to the car. No one inside. Not locked. No bloodstains. No bullet holes. I popped the hatch. No one in there. I felt the hood. Cold. The car had been sitting there for a while. I went inside Pino’s and looked around. No Connie. Morelli and I ate here a lot. We knew everyone. Ditto for Connie. I found the manager, Carl Carolli, and asked if he’d seen Connie.

“Not in a couple days,” he said. “She comes here on Thursdays with her mama sometimes. It’s after bingo. They get calamari with marinara.”

“Is there anyone here that’s new? That you don’t know?”

“There’s always people I don’t know.” He looked around. “The family in the corner booth. I don’t know them.”

I looked at the family. Mother, father, two kids. Didn’t look like kidnappers.

“I have your order ready,” Carl said. “You must be taking it to Morelli. Meatball sandwiches, extra pickles, fries, and the twelve- layer chocolate cake. I’m guessing one of you had a bad day.”

“This morning he had to jump into the river to drag a crazy lady out. It wasn’t pretty.”

Carl grinned. “He’s a good cop.”

I took my bag of food and walked around the parking lot, looking for signs of a struggle, looking for Connie or something that might belong to her. I didn’t see any feet sticking out from under a car. I didn’t hear anyone yelling from inside a trunk. I returned to my Honda, got behind the wheel, and locked the doors. My heart was bouncing around inside my chest. I called Morelli and gave him the short version.

“It hasn’t been twenty-four hours,” Morelli said.

“I know Connie’s in trouble,” I said. “I absolutely know it.”

“I’ll make some phone calls. I can’t do anything officially, but I can put the word out to keep an eye on the car and to look for Connie.”

+++

Morelli lives in a neighborhood that backs up to the Burg. The values and economics are the same in both neighborhoods. The houses are the same. The only difference is an imaginary line that someone drew seventy years ago. Morelli’s house is a lot like my parents’ house, with a shotgun-style living room, dining room, kitchen. There are three bedrooms upstairs, a powder room downstairs, and a full bath upstairs. Morelli shares the house with a big, orange, overly friendly dog named Bob. There’s a large flat-screen television in the living room, a billiard table in the dining room, and a king-sized bed in the upstairs master. I keep a few essentials at his house, and he has a few essentials in my apartment.

Bob rushed at me when I walked in the front door. I braced myself against the impact and did the good boy, good boy thing, holding the bag of food over my head. Morelli sauntered over, took the bag, and gave me a friendly kiss.

“You look better,” I said. “Okay, so your eye is almost swollen closed, but you’re not wet anymore and the scratches on your face aren’t oozing blood.”

“I’m a fast healer,” he said. “It’s my Sicilian DNA. My relatives wouldn’t have survived if they’d been bleeders.”

I went to the kitchen, got Bob’s bowl, and brought it to the living room. We emptied the bag of food onto Morelli’s big square coffee table, divided it up between Bob, Morelli, and me, and we all ate dinner in front of the television.

“Connie isn’t my only problem,” I said, adding extra red sauce to my meatball sandwich. “Your grandmother is FTA.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes!”

Morelli grinned. “Well at least you know where to find her.”

“It’s not funny. She’s scary. If I go after her, she’ll put the eye on me.”

He opened two bottles of beer and passed one to me. “Do you believe in the eye?”

“No, of course not. Maybe. Just a little. Even without the eye, she’s still scary.”

“And?”

“And I was hoping you’d bring her in for me.”

“No way,” Morelli said. “She’s my grandmother. I can’t arrest my own grandmother.”

“You’re afraid of her too, aren’t you!”

“I’m not afraid of my grandmother. I’m afraid of my mother. She’ll make my life a living hell, and she’ll cut me off from lasagna deliveries.”

I did a mental eye-roll. “Talk to your grandmother, please. Explain to her that she needs to make another court date.”

“We could cut a deal here,” Morelli said.

“What kind of deal?”

“It would involve you getting naked.”

“What about you?”

“I’d get naked too.”

“What about your injuries?” I asked. “Your eye is totally shut.”

“I can still see with my other eye. And my deal would involve body parts that are functioning perfectly.”

This seemed like an okay deal since I’d assumed we’d both get naked eventually anyway. It was one of the benefits of bringing Morelli dinner.

+++

I looked over at the bedside clock. It was 1:00 a.m. Morelli was asleep beside me, and I was wide awake. My mind was running in circles, thinking about Connie. I was having gruesome thoughts of Connie kidnapped, locked in the trunk of someone’s car, held hostage in a basement cell, or even worse, left for dead alongside a road somewhere. I should have done a more thorough search of her car, and I should have done an inventory of the storeroom. My phone was on the nightstand next to me in case a call or a message came in from Connie.

She’ll show up in the morning and have a perfectly logical explanation, I told myself. After all, this is Connie. Connie isn’t the sort to be a victim. Connie is the office security. She’s the guard dog in front of Vinnie’s inner sanctum. She’s good with a gun, she’s always armed, and she’s street smart. It wouldn’t be easy to kidnap her. I told myself this in an effort to relax and fall asleep. Unfortunately, while I knew it all to be true, I also knew from my own experience that bad things could happen to good people no matter how careful or skilled they were.

 

Chapter Four

I struggled out of sleep, sensing Morelli moving around in the dark room. He was an early riser, anxious to get on the job, solving mysteries and bringing order to chaos. He’d been a wild kid who’d managed to turn into a responsible adult. The transformation hadn’t been easy, but here he finally was, protecting the rights and dignity of Trenton residents both good and bad. Go figure.

I switched my bedside light on and propped myself up on an elbow. “Have you heard anything from dispatch about Connie?” I asked him.

“No. Sorry. I’ll ride by Pino’s on my way to work and check on her car.” He strapped his watch on and took his gun out of the top drawer in his nightstand. “Are you getting up or are you going back to sleep?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“If I’m gone by the time you get downstairs, there’s cereal in the cupboard and yogurt in the fridge.”

“Yogurt?”

“It’s healthy. It compensates for the junk that I eat the rest of the day.”

He gave me a kiss and headed out with Bob on his heels. I didn’t think I was ready to face yogurt, so I turned the light off and tried to go back to sleep.

I gave up on sleep at six o’clock. I took a fast shower, got dressed, and followed the aroma of coffee to the kitchen. I ate a bowl of cereal and looked at my watch. It was six thirty. It was dark outside. No one would be at the office. The mall was closed. My parents didn’t get up and moving around until seven thirty. The bakery might be open.

“What on earth do people do at this time of day?” I asked Bob.

Bob wagged his tail and looked toward the front door, so I hooked Bob up to his leash and took him for a walk. It was seven o’clock when I got back to Morelli’s house. I checked my email, shot some pool, and thought about going home to my apartment. I decided that I would go to the office instead.

On the way to the office, I detoured to Pino’s to see if Connie’s car was still there. I got a chill when I saw that it was parked alone in the lot. I drove past Connie’s house. Lights were off. I wanted to call her mother, but I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t want to wake her. I drove past the office. No lights on inside. No cars parked at the curb. No activity in the area. Some morning traffic on Hamilton Avenue. I parked behind the office and sat for a couple minutes, trying to work up enough nerve to get out of the car.

A kidnap scenario was running through my mind. The chances that Connie had parked her car in Pino’s lot were just about zero. Connie always parked her car in this lot, I thought. She parked it right where I was currently sitting. She’d gotten out of her car with a box of doughnuts, and when she approached the back door to the office, somebody grabbed her.

My hands were sweating on the steering wheel. It was dark in the alley. Lots of places for a man to hide. There used to be a light over the back door, but someone had shot it out a year ago and it had never been replaced.

Now or never, I thought. Just do it. Get out of the car and into the office. Pretend you’re Ranger.

Ranger was the other man in my life. Riccardo Carlos Manoso, a.k.a. Ranger. Formerly Special Forces and now owner of a high- tech security firm in downtown Trenton. He was dark, inside and out. He was fearless. He was perfectly toned and supremely skilled in just about everything. Okay, he didn’t cook, at least not in the kitchen, but he was magic in all the other rooms.

I slipped out of the car, got the key from under the brick, and let myself into the office. I locked the door behind myself and turned the lights on. My heart was thumping in my chest, and I had to admit to myself that I was no Ranger. Still, I’d gotten myself into the office and that was pretty good.

I hit the power button on Connie’s computer and found the file detailing all the items held as security against a bond. I printed the list and took it to the storeroom. The items were organized by date received. Nothing recorded yesterday. Two bonds had been issued over the weekend. One was secured by a Harley. One was secured by a promissory note from a third party. Three bonds had been issued last Wednesday. They were low monetary bonds secured by a watch, a man’s ruby pinky ring, and a DVD player. I found all of the items, including the registration for the Harley. The week before had been a decent week for Vinnie. Twelve bonds had been issued. Carpenter Beedle was one of the bailouts. Two other men had also been bailed out with Carpenter—Sydney Bowler and Paul Mori. Everyone checked out but Paul Mori. He had a low bond and had used a coin as security. No details were given on the coin and there wasn’t a coin in the storeroom. I suspected the coin had gone to Atlantic City with Vinnie.

It was almost eight thirty when Lula banged on the front door to the office and woke me up. I’d fallen asleep on the fake leather couch and was disoriented for a moment before getting my act together. I stumbled to the door and unlocked it, and Lula bustled in.

“I saw the light was on in here when I drove up. How come you were sleeping on the couch? Did something happen to your apartment? Did it get firebombed again?”

“I came in early to check on the bond inventory. I thought I might find something that would lead to Connie.”

“And?”

“Nothing jumped out at me,” I said.

“I guess you’re thinking about the guy who called yesterday and said Vinnie had something of his that he wanted back. Personally, I think it’s a long shot that it’s something stuffed away in the storeroom. I mean it could be anything. This is Vinnie we’re talking about. This guy could be talking about his wife or a barnyard animal.” Lula set a bakery box on Connie’s desk. “I stopped to get the doughnuts this morning. The people at the bakery said they hadn’t seen Connie. Have you talked to her mama this morning?”

“Not yet. I didn’t want to wake her.”

“For all we know Connie could be sound asleep in her bed.”

I dialed Connie’s number. No answer on her cell phone. No prompt to leave a message. This wasn’t a good sign. I dialed the number of their house phone and Connie’s mother answered.

“Hello,” she said. “Who’s this?”

“It’s Stephanie Plum,” I said. “Is Connie there?”

“No. She didn’t come home last night. She didn’t call me or anything. She never just doesn’t come home. I know something terrible happened to her. I can feel it. The Margucci boy didn’t come home one night, and they found him in the river a week later. I’m going to call the police and tell them to look in the river.”

“I’m sure she’s okay, Mrs. Rosolli. Tell her to call me when you talk to her.”

“Well?” Lula asked when I hung up.

“She’s not there. She never came home.”

Lula opened the box of doughnuts and took a Boston cream. We didn’t have to fight over it because they were all Boston cream. She got herself a cup of coffee, sat in Connie’s chair, and scanned through the email.

“Here’s something interesting,” she said. “It’s a court bulletin. One of our bondees turned up dead. Self-inflicted gunshot wound. Twelve of them. Paul Mori. It says that we bonded him out two weeks ago.”

“I know that name. He was bonded out the same day as Carpenter Beedle. Vinnie took a coin as security, and I couldn’t find it.”

“What kind of coin?”

“His bond application didn’t say.”

I called Vinnie.

“Now what?” Vinnie said.

“When are you coming into the office?”

“I don’t know. I’m still in AC. Harry’s having a board of directors meeting, if you know what I mean.”

“I need to talk to you about Paul Mori.”

“The dry cleaner? He turned out to be a real pain in the ass. I was at the courthouse to write a bond for Beedle and I ran into Mori. We take our dry cleaning to him. He needed to get bailed out, so he gave me a deal on dry cleaning and a commemorative coin for security. The dry-cleaning deal was sweet. I didn’t care about the coin. I just took it to humor him. And then a couple days ago he came in and said he wanted the coin back. He was going to give me a big bag of money for it, but I didn’t have the coin. I told him I lost it and he went nuts. Almost ripped my shirt off, yelling that I was lying. Connie stun gunned him and dragged him out of the office. A car drove up; two guys shoved him into the backseat and drove off with him.”

“How did you lose the coin?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to it. I bonded Mori out and then I had to turn around and right away bond Beedle out. Beedle’s mother was there. Nice lady. She was upset. I had to walk them to her car.”

“What did the coin look like?”

“It was supposed to be old. Knights Templar. Like in Indiana Jones. I don’t think it was real, but it was cool anyway. I gotta go. Harry’s giving me the sign.”

“What sign?”

“Like he’s gonna kill me if I don’t get off the phone.”

The line went dead.

“Pull up the Paul Mori file,” I said to Lula. “Print it out for me.”

The front door opened, and Grandma walked in. She was dressed in tight jeans, motorcycle boots, a white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket.

“I thought I’d stop by in case you still needed some extra muscle,” she said.

“Did my mother see you leave the house dressed like this?” I asked her.

“No. I sneaked out when she was cleaning up in the kitchen,” Grandma said. “I left her a note. I said I was at church.”

“Girl, you look bitchin’,” Lula said.

“I wore this getup to a Halloween party last year,” Grandma said. “I was hoping I’d get a chance to use it again. What’s up for today? I was at the bakery earlier and Eleanor said Connie is still missing.”

“Her car is parked in Pino’s lot, but no one’s seen Connie, and her mother hasn’t heard from her,” I said.

“That’s terrible,” Grandma said. “That’s real worrisome.”

I took the Mori printout from Lula. “Paul Mori was seventy years old. Owned Mori Dry Cleaning. He was charged with indecent exposure. Got into an argument with a female customer and mooned her. She got a picture of him on her cell phone and reported him to the police.”

“He’s dead,” Grandma said. “They were talking about it at the bakery. Eleanor’s son, Jimmy, is a paramedic, and he was at the scene last night. Someone found Mori by the dumpster behind Smart’s Tavern. Jimmy said Mori looked like Swiss cheese.”

“The report says twelve shots,” Lula said. “And it said they were self-inflicted.”

“That’s got to be a typo,” Grandma said. “Hard to self-inflict Swiss cheese.”

“Are there any rumors about him being involved in anything other than dry cleaning?” I asked Grandma.

“You mean something shady? Not that I know. He was just a grouchy bachelor. Never married. Didn’t even have a dog. Lived in a row house on Marbury Street for his whole life. Inherited it when his parents passed. I imagine he was sitting on a chunk of money. He had a good business going and he was a real tightwad.”

“Vinnie bonded him out and Mori used a commemorative coin as security,” I said.

“That sounds like him,” Grandma said. “Probably lifted the coin from someone’s jacket pocket when it came in to get cleaned. He had a sign up in his place that said anything he found he’d keep. He meant it too. We don’t take our dry cleaning to Mori. We take ours to Tide at the strip mall.”

“You got a thing about that coin,” Lula said to me. “I don’t see how it ties to Connie, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“The coin was valuable. Mori offered Vinnie money for it.”

Lula took a second doughnut. “So, then why’d Mori give it to Vinnie if it was so valuable? And why’s Mori so dead? And I still don’t see what it’s got to do with Connie.”

“When I talked to Vinnie just now, he said a couple days ago Mori came into the office to get his coin back. Vinnie told Mori that he didn’t have the coin. Somehow the coin got lost. Mori went gonzo, grabbing Vinnie and yelling that he was lying. Connie stun gunned Mori and dragged him out of the office. A car came and picked Mori up and drove away with him. Now Mori is dead.

“I think Mori lifted the coin from the wrong pocket, thinking it was a fun trinket. The owner came back looking for it, and Mori said he gave it to Vinnie. The original owner couldn’t get in touch with Vinnie, so he forced Connie to let him into the office. He searched the storeroom, couldn’t find the coin, and he took Connie as a hostage.”

“Well, I didn’t know none of that,” Lula said. “That’s real suspicious.”

A worse scenario was that they’d disposed of Connie just as they’d disposed of Mori, but I didn’t want to say it aloud.

The office phone rang, and we all stared at it.

“Someone should answer it,” Lula said.

I put it on speakerphone. “Vincent Plum Bail Bonds,” I said. “This is Stephanie speaking.”

“I want to talk to Vinnie.”

Lula waved her arms in the air and mouthed, It’s him. It’s him!

“Vinnie is out of town. I’m Stephanie Plum, and I’m in charge of the office in his absence. How can I help you?”

“Oh jeez, you’re the disaster bounty hunter, right? You’re in the news all the time.”

“Not all the time,” I said.

“This is personal between me and Vinnie. He has something I want, and I have something he wants.”

“Unfortunately, he isn’t here, so you’re going to have to deal with me. Let’s start by telling me what it is that you want.”

“It’s a coin that was given to Vinnie as security. The coin was stolen, and the rightful owner wants it returned.”

“I’ll be happy to check our inventory. Who gave Vinnie the coin?”

“Paul Mori.”

I put the caller on hold.

“I knew it!” Lula said. “I knew it was all about that coin. And he’s got Connie too. Mark my words.”

I returned to the caller. “I’m sorry, but the coin isn’t in our inventory. You must be mistaken.”

“Here’s the deal,” he said. “I need that coin and you need to find it for me. That’s what you do, right? You find people. So now you can find a lousy coin. Personally, I think you know where it is. And if you don’t know where it is, I’m sure Vinnie knows where it is.”

“Why is this coin so important? Is it worth a lot of money?”

“It’s junk. It’s a trinket. It’s worth nothing.”

“Then why all this trouble to get it back?”

“It’s got sentimental value, okay? It don’t matter why I want it. What matters is that I’m not a nice guy. I can inflict pain and death and still sleep at night. And as you’ve probably guessed by now, I have something from your office. I thought it would give incentive if I had something to trade.”

“Is it a box of doughnuts? We were short a box of doughnuts yesterday.”

“Yeah, very funny. You want to hear a doughnut scream?”

“No,” I said. “Not at all.”

“Then find the coin. Twenty-four hours.”

“What does it look like?”

“It looks old, but it isn’t old. It’s got a symbol on it. Knights Templar. When you have the coin, hang a sign in your office window. If you don’t have it in twenty-four hours, there’s gonna be more pain and death. And if you go to the police there’s gonna be a lot more pain and death.”

He disconnected.

“Do you think Vinnie has the coin?” Lula asked.

“No,” I said. “But I might know someone else who has it. Carpenter Beedle. He’s a panhandler and a pickpocket and he was with Vinnie when Vinnie lost the coin. An alternative theory would be that Vinnie dropped the coin in the parking lot and didn’t notice.”

“I like the pickpocket version,” Grandma said. “Where do we find Carpenter Beedle?”

“In jail,” I said. “His mother won’t bond him out again, and even if she wanted to bond him out there’s no one here who’s authorized to write a bond.”

“Hunh,” Lula said. “I could write his bond. I’m the official replacement office manager. I got rights and duties. I’ve seen Connie bond out lots of assholes. I got it down.”

Grandma and I exchanged glances.

“Worth a try,” Grandma said. “I’ll stay here and babysit the phone.”

Lula took a bond application form out of Connie’s desk file and filled it in, using Beedle’s previous application. “Easy peasy,” she said. “Now I just have to use this stamp that says I’m allowed to do this.” Bam. Lula stamped the form. “Now we take this downtown and have Beedle sign it and he’s all ours.”

I knew it wasn’t this simple. Beedle had a high bond. We’d just bought him an expensive get-out-of-jail card that was now guaranteed by Vinnie’s surety company. If this got screwed up, Vinnie could lose his license.

I checked my watch. Ten o’clock. I had twenty-four hours to find the coin. 

 

From GOING ROGUE by Janet Evanovich. Copyright © 2022 by Evanovich, Inc. Reprinted by permission of Atria Books, an Imprint of Simon & Schuster, LLC.