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Chapter Thirteen
Morelli finished up the last part of his plan at the crack of dawn. He told me he loved me, gave me one last kiss, and rolled out of my bed.
I was disoriented from lack of sleep and the final fireworks display. “Are you going to work?” I asked him. “What day is it? Isn’t it Saturday?”
“I’m not working today,” he said. “I have to get home to Bob. He’s used to going out first thing in the morning. I should have brought him with me, but I wasn’t thinking ahead. Come home with me and I’ll make you breakfast.”
“I’m not up for breakfast yet. Aren’t you tired?”
“No, but I’m a little sore. I think I pulled a muscle on one of my new ideas.”
No kidding. I had a pretty good idea which muscle.
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An hour later I was still awake. I had a lot on my mind. Kidnapping, torture, death, Costa Rica. I dragged myself out of bed, took a shower, and called Ranger.
“I have the coin,” I said, “but there’s a problem. We need to talk.”
“Babe,” Ranger said.
I took that to mean anytime, so I grabbed my messenger bag and drove to Rangeman. I got a breakfast sandwich and coffee from the fifth-floor dining area and took it to Ranger’s office.
“Do you want the long version or the short version?” I asked him.
“I want the bottom line.”
“I have the coin to trade for Connie, but the kidnappers aren’t going to be happy with it and will probably want to torture and maybe kill me.”
“Give me the long version,” Ranger said.
“So here are the choices,” I said at the end of the long version. “I can give up Benji, Beedle, and Sparks to the FBI. The FBI come up with a plan and if it works, we get Connie back and the bad guys will go to jail. There’s also the chance that Benji, Beedle, and Sparks will go to jail. Second choice is that we swap the coin for Connie and when the bad guys realize they’ve been robbed, I give them Benji, Beedle, and Sparks. This would be ugly for Benji, Beedle, and Sparks. Third choice is I give the bad guys the coin, they give us Connie, and when they discover they’ve been robbed they come after me.”
“And you chose door number three,” Ranger said. “Yes.”
“I would have to eliminate the bad guys.”
“Yes. Would that damage your karma?”
“Probably, but I’ve been storing karma credits.”
“So, it’s not a problem.”
“No, it’s not a problem. Put the sign in the window.”
+++
The office was dark when I parked at the curb. Lula usually showed up halfway through the morning on Saturday. Vinnie showed up never. I unlocked the door, switched the lights on, and made coffee. I didn’t want to drink it. I wanted to smell it. It humanized the office. It made things feel a little more normal. I got the i have it sign from the storeroom and taped it on the window. I texted Lula and told her to bring doughnuts. Doughnuts made everything better. I sat in Connie’s chair and opened her computer. I waded through the junk mail, the invoices, and the threatening letters to Vinnie. There were two new FTAs. Grand theft auto and armed robbery. Both carried a high bail bond. Ordinarily I’d have been all about them, but right now I just wanted a doughnut. Actually, I wanted a miracle. I wanted Connie to walk in and tell me that the kidnappers had decided the coin wasn’t worth the effort and they were getting on with their lives.
I printed the information on the two FTAs and shoved the papers into my messenger bag. I looked out the front window and saw Lula park the red Firebird behind my Honda. Seconds later she swung into the office and set the box of doughnuts on Connie’s desk.
“You’re early,” I said. “You usually sleep in on Saturday.”
“I couldn’t sleep. I kept wondering if you put the sign in the window. And then when you texted about the doughnuts, I figured you were sitting here cracking your knuckles, waiting to get the phone call.”
I looked in the box. “You got an assortment. What happened to all the Boston creams?”
“I felt like we needed some color today. I got a pink glazed, one with rainbow sprinkles, a butterscotch, a couple chocolate, and some with powdered sugar.”
I chose the butterscotch. “I imagine Ranger is doing surveillance,” I said to Lula. “Did you notice any vans when you parked?”
“No, but I wasn’t looking for any either. I was keeping my eyes open for a drone.”
“They might not be using a drone after the shooting incident,” I said.
“Did you do the emails?” Lula asked.
“Yes. There was grand theft auto. Some guy borrowed a fire truck and drove it into Garden of Life Flowers on Comstock Street.”
“Good one,” Lula said.
“And an armed robbery.”
“Anybody we know?”
“Sylvester Brown. Held up a convenience store on Stark Street.”
Lula took another doughnut. “This is boring, sitting here waiting for some fool to call. It’s going on six days. It goes on this long and there’s things that come into consideration. Like, who’s doing Connie’s laundry? And what happens if it’s her time of the month? Some kidnapper’s gonna have to go out and get tampons and Midol.”
I looked around the office, wondering if Ranger was listening in and cracking up. You never knew where he had equipment.
The call came in at eleven o’clock.
“Talk to me,” the man said.
“What do you want to hear?” I asked him.
“I want to hear that you have the right coin.”
“I have the right coin. It has a small notch in the edge.”
“Text me a photo,” he said.
He gave me a cell number and hung up.
I took a photo of both sides of the coin and sent it to him.
I’ll call back with instructions, he texted back.
“Smart,” Lula said. “He never stays on long enough to get traced.”
My phone rang again, and it was a different voice. “You’ll find her in the cemetery on Third Street. She’ll be at the gate.”
“What about the coin?”
The connection was broken. They didn’t want the coin. They’d gotten the number off the photo.
I grabbed my messenger bag. “Let’s go. She’s at the cemetery gate on Third.”
My phone buzzed with a text message from Ranger. Got your back.
The cemetery was ten minutes away. After three minutes on the road, I got another text from Ranger. We have her sighted. Holding back for you to pick up. We can move in if necessary.
Tears were rolling down my face and my nose was running.
“Are you okay to drive?” Lula asked.
I wiped my nose on the sleeve of my sweatshirt. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just relieved.” I checked my rearview mirror. I was being followed by a shiny black SUV. “Is that a Rangeman car behind us?” I asked Lula. “Or is it the bad guys?”
Lula turned and looked. “It’s Rangeman. Tank’s driving.”
I made an effort to relax my grip on the wheel. I took a couple deep breaths. I turned onto Third and I saw Connie at the cemetery gate. She was holding on, leaning into it. She was disheveled and looked disoriented. I stopped at the gate, bolted out of the car, and ran to her with my heart beating in my throat. Lula was right behind me.
I wrapped an arm around Connie and hugged her close to me. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I can’t think.”
My emotions ranged from knee-buckling relief that I had my arm around Connie to blind rage that someone had done this to her.
I moved her forward, toward the car. “We need to get out of here.”
I didn’t know if the kidnappers were still in the area, and I didn’t know how much time I had before they accessed their crypto account and realized their money was gone. Ranger was running security for us, and I had total confidence in him. Still, I didn’t want to waste time putting distance between us and the pickup point. And I wanted to get Connie medical help.
I maneuvered her into the backseat, and Lula slid in next to her. I got behind the wheel and headed for St. Francis Medical Center. I was driving fast and sneaking through red lights when possible. Lula was pressed against Connie like a big mama hen with a chick, talking to her, telling her it was okay now, she was safe.
I was monitoring Connie’s response to Lula, and I could hear that she was coming around. By the time I pulled into the emergency room driveway, Connie was fully coherent. I got out and ran around to help her out of the car.
Connie waved me away. “The drug’s wearing off,” she said. “I don’t need the hospital. I need coffee.”
“Are you sure?” I asked her. “It wouldn’t hurt to get checked out.”
“No. I’m feeling much better. I don’t want to get poked and prodded in the ER. I want a shower and some clean clothes and a decent cup of coffee with real half-and-half. Just take me home.”
“Taking her home might not be a good idea,” Lula said. “Her mother’s gonna freak out when she sees her like this.”
I was thinking the same thing. Plus, I wanted to talk to her. I could take her to my apartment, but I didn’t have real half-and-half. I could take her to Rangeman, but it might be an uncomfortable environment after being held captive. That left my parents’ house.
I parked in their driveway, and our Rangeman escort parked down the street. Lula and I walked Connie across the small front yard and into the house. The living room was empty because my father spent Saturday morning playing bocci ball with his lodge buddies. Grandma was at the dining room table with her computer. She looked up when we entered the room and instantly stood with her hand over her heart.
“Omigod,” Grandma said. “Omigod, omigod!”
My mother came in from the kitchen and had the same reaction.
“Omigod,” my mother said, and she instantly took over. “Come sit in the kitchen,” she said to Connie, taking her by the hand, leading her to the little table. “What can I get you?” she asked Connie. “Tea?”
“Coffee,” Connie said.
“Have you eaten? It’s almost lunchtime. Would you like a sandwich? Some soup? Entenmann’s coffee cake?”
In minutes Connie had fresh-brewed coffee laced with half-and-half and Jack Daniel’s. The table was filled with bakery bread, deli meat and cheese, mugs of minestrone soup, pickles, chips, and a whole Entenmann’s cherry cheese Danish. Connie was wrapped in one of my mom’s robes and her clothes were in the washer.
I called Connie’s mom and told her Connie was okay and with me and she’d be home soon. Connie got on the phone and gave the same message to her mom.
“What did your mom say when she heard your voice?” Grandma asked Connie.
“She yelled at me for giving her a fright,” Connie said. “And then she said we’re having ricotta shells for dinner.”
“We haven’t had ricotta shells for an age,” my mom said. “I’ll have to put them on the menu next week.”
We all sat around the table with Connie. She drank half a cup of coffee and ate two slices of the cheese Danish before taking a mug of soup. No one else ate anything. We were too intent on watching Connie, looking for signs that she might need help, thankful that she was at the table with us.
“What can you tell me?” I asked Connie when she finished the soup.
“It was bad,” Connie said. “I was stun gunned and drugged. When I came around, I was in a small dark room. There was a cot with a single blanket and a chemical toilet. No window. One door that was locked. They took my watch and my purse, so I had no way to tell time. I tried to keep track of the days by counting the meals. Three times a day I’d get a bag of fast food and a soda.”
“Could you see their faces?”
“No. They were always masked. After the first day they never talked to me. Toward the end I could tell they were angry. Sometimes I’d hear them shouting, but it was muffled, and I couldn’t tell what they were saying. Honestly, I was afraid they’d kill me or maybe abandon me to die from starvation.”
“Just terrible,” Grandma said. “Did they do anything to hurt you?”
“Only the first day, and it could have been worse. They burned my arm with one of those click-and-flame things you use to light candles.” She pulled the bathrobe sleeve up to show us the scars. Four spots on her arm about the size of a dime.
“We should put something on them,” my mother said. “I’ll give you some ointment.”
“They were trying to get me to talk,” Connie said, “but I didn’t know anything. After that they left me alone.”
“Do you have any idea where they kept you captive?”
“No clue,” Connie said. “I was stun gunned from behind when I was opening the back door to the office. They dragged me inside, and when I was able to talk, they quizzed me about the coin. I’d never seen the coin so I couldn’t tell them anything. They found the fire starter in the junk drawer. That was the first time they burned me, but I couldn’t tell them anything. They searched the storeroom and the office and when they couldn’t find the coin, they decided to take me as a hostage. I was stun gunned again, handcuffed, and they wrapped a towel around my head and duct-taped it. I could barely breathe. I know I was in a car. The ride was smooth, but I don’t know anything beyond that.”
“Was it a long ride?”
“Maybe a half hour but I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“And what about when they dropped you off at the cemetery?” I asked her.
“I was stun gunned and drugged. I don’t remember anything from the ride. I was really out of it when I started to come around. I thought I was dead.”
“That makes sense since you were in a cemetery,” Lula said.
“We need to come up with a good story before we take you home,” Grandma said to Connie. “Your mom is going to tell Mabel Shigatelli right off. And Mabel is going to tell Jean Frick and in an hour everyone in the Burg is going to know.”
“Is that a problem?” Connie asked.
“I didn’t go to the police,” I told her. “I went to Ranger for help. There were complications with the coin.”
“I was wondering why it was taking so long,” Connie said.
“It’s a long story,” I said. “Do you want to hear it now?”
“Freakin’ A,” she said. “I want to know every detail. And then I want to track them down and kick their ugly asses all the way to hell.”
We all relaxed in our chairs and smiled. I was smiling so wide my cheeks hurt. Connie was back.
+++
I took Connie home, and Lula and I went to the office. We walked in and my phone rang.
“Where’s the money?” he said.
I got a chill and had to take a beat to steady my voice. I’d anticipated this call and I’d decided to play it dumb and straight.
“You must have the wrong number,” I said.
“I have the right number. I want the money. Where is it?”
“Are you talking about the coin? You didn’t want it. If you changed your mind, I can leave it at the cemetery gate.”
“We’re coming for you, and you better have the money ready to turn over to us. Is that clear?”
“Yes, but—” I looked over at Lula. “He hung up.”
“Rude,” Lula said. “No manners.”
I called Morelli and told him Connie was back home.
“And?” Morelli said.
“And the kidnappers are unhappy with me.”
“How unhappy?”
“Very unhappy. They want their money. The money I don’t have.”
“Are you reconsidering Costa Rica?”
“No, but I’m considering putting bullets in my gun.”
“That’s serious.”
“I suppose it is, but right now I’m just happy Connie is in one piece and has all her fingernails. I feel like celebrating.”
“I’m good at celebrating,” Morelli said. “Do you have plans for tonight?”
“I don’t know. Do you have any ideas that didn’t get road tested last night?”
“No. Tonight will have to be oldies-but-goodies night.”
“Works for me. Your place at six o’clock. I’ll bring pizza.”
I hung up and wondered if Ranger was listening in. Probably not. He had software that looked for certain numbers and blocked others. He was picking up calls that had been transferred to my phone from the office number.
“Now what?” Lula asked. “Are you going home to rest up for tonight?”
“No. I need an activity to get my mind off Connie and her burn scars.”
“And we should be thinking about how we’re gonna keep you safe,” Lula said.
“I’m going to be careful,” I said.
“Maybe you should lay low for a while. Make it hard for the bad guys to find you.”
“You can’t win a war by hiding in the castle,” I said.
“Wow, that’s profound,” Lula said. “Who said that? Yoda? Galadriel? Tom Cruise? I bet it was Thor!”
“I think I read it in a fortune cookie. Who are we going to find today?”
“We could go after the moron who stole the fire truck. That could be fun.”
I pulled his file out of my messenger bag. “Steven Plover. Caucasian. Twenty years old. Student. Lives with his parents.”
“I hate to lock a kid up over the weekend,” Lula said. “What about the armed robbery guy?”
“Sylvester Brown. Lots of tattoos and piercings. Nasty-looking dreads. Lives on Sally Street.”
“He wouldn’t be expecting us on a Saturday afternoon,” Lula said. “Probably sitting around in his shorts and wifebeater shirt getting high and drinking warm beer out of a plastic glass.”
“Did you get that from the course you took on criminal profiling?”
“No. I just know a lot of guys who do that every Saturday,” Lula said.
We locked the office and looked across the street at a faded gray Ford Escort.
“Ranger’s version of plainclothes stealth surveillance,” I said.
“They going to follow you around?”
“Probably.”
“It’s kind of comforting being that you got a big target on your back now.”
I didn’t want to think about the target. I glanced at our cars. “Do you want to drive?”
“Hell no. I’m not putting some smelly beer-drinking idiot in my Firebird. I just had it detailed.”
I never had my car detailed and I needed the money from the capture, so driving was okay with me. Lula was on salary, but I only made money when I delivered an FTA.
“Sally Street is a couple blocks away from Stark Street,” Lula said. “It’s not as bad as Stark Street, but it’s not Rodeo Drive, either. There’s a bunch of little bungalows in not such good condition all packed in together. One of my friends from a previous life used to live there. It was okay during the day, but it could get dicey at night.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know. She just disappeared and never came back. Somebody said they saw her get on a bus to Tucson.”
I drove through the city center and took Grove Street to Sally Street. Brown’s house was on the third block. It was a tiny bungalow with stucco siding and a shingle roof. Small hardscrabble front yard. No sidewalk. A driveway but no garage. A backyard that was enclosed with chain-link fence.
“Probably got a big dog in the backyard,” Lula said. “There’s always a big dog with these houses. And bars on the windows.”
“What do we know about Mr. Brown?” I asked Lula.
“It says here on his bond application that he’s in the music business. He’s twenty-eight years old. Has some priors for petty theft. Did a couple months on destruction of personal property. No details on that. Looks like his girlfriend turned him in on the armed robbery charge.”
I parked and unbuckled my seat belt. “Let’s do it.”
I got out, nodded to the Rangeman guy who was parked two houses down, and walked to the front door. Lula was standing beside me.
“There’s no doorbell,” she said. “We’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.”
Bang, bang, bang. Lula hammered on the door.
A scrawny guy opened the door and looked out at us. “Sylvester Brown?” I asked.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he said.
I introduced myself and told him we were there to help him reschedule his court date.
“Hah,” he said. “That’s a good one.” He looked over his shoulder and yelled, “Francine, come here. You gotta see this.”
Francine shuffled over and squinted at us. “So what?” she said. “These two chicks came to haul my ass back to jail. Someone sent two chicks out to take down big, bad old me.”
Brown was about Lula’s height, but she easily had fifty pounds on him. Plus, Lula was wearing FMPs that added five inches to her height.
“You don’t look so big to me,” Lula said.
Brown leaned in a little. “Big enough to kick your fat ass.”
“Excuse me?” Lula said. “Did you just do a derogatory comment on my ass?”
“It’s fat,” he said.
“Well, you haven’t got no ass at all,” Lula said. “You’re a stick with a little dick.”
“You want to see my dick?” he said. “I got a dick that could choke a horse.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. This was turning into a dumpster fire. “No!” I said. “We don’t want to see your dick. I’m sure it’s perfectly frightening.”
“What then? How about my ass? You want to see my ass?” he said.
“I don’t want to see that either,” I said. “I just want to take you downtown so you can reschedule your court date.”
“It’s Saturday, bitch,” he said. “I won’t get rescheduled until Monday.”
“Yeah, but they give you a double cheeseburger and fries for lunch and dinner,” Lula said. “And you get one of them greasy breakfast sandwiches for breakfast.”
“I’m a vegan,” he said. “I don’t eat that shit.”
“Get the heck out,” Lula said. “Everybody knows vegans don’t do armed robbery. You’re a fibber.”
I had cuffs tucked into the back of my jeans. I grabbed them and got one on Brown’s wrist, but he jumped away before I could get the second one on him.
“Francine,” he said, “get my gun and shoot them.”
“Hold on,” Lula said. “We got guns, too. I got one in my purse. Stephanie, show them your gun while I try to find mine.”
“This is ridiculous,” I said. “Nobody is doing any shooting. I just want—”
“Screw this,” Brown said, and he bolted out the door.
“I got him,” Lula yelled, taking off after Brown. “I’m on it.”
I ran out the door after her. Brown was running barefoot, and Lula was running flat-out in her heels and a skintight red spandex dress that barely covered her hooha. I was close behind Lula. She took a flying leap and tackled Brown, taking him to the ground. Brown gave a shrill whistle and I turned to see a huge German shepherd clear the chain-link fence, cross the driveway, and go after Lula. He clamped on to the hem of her dress and tore half the skirt off.
“What the bejeezus,” Lula said, rolling off Brown and scrambling to her feet. “Bad dog!” she yelled at the shepherd. “Do you see what you did? This here’s one of my favorite outfits. Who’s gonna pay for this? Do you think this idiot laying on the ground is gonna pay for it? He’d have to rob another store.”
The dog was holding its ground and growling.
“And that’s another thing,” Lula said. “You want to stop the growling. You need to sit there and be quiet while we sort this out. Sit!”
“Crazy fat bitch,” Brown said. “I sprained my ankle. Maybe I broke it.”
I got the other cuff on Brown and Francine joined us. “Good tackle,” she said to Lula. “I like your red thong.”
Lula had a cheek exposed and the dog still had the chunk of dress in his teeth.
“I’ll take Sweetie Pie back to the house,” Francine said. “Sorry about your dress.”
“Sweetie Pie?” Lula said.
Francine bent over and made a smooshie face at Sweetie Pie. “He’s Mommy’s dumpy lumpkin.”
We helped Brown hobble to my car, and we stuffed him into the backseat. The gray Rangeman car was idling behind me. The driver gave me a smile and a thumbs-up, and the guy next to him looked like he was about to explode from trying not to laugh.
It was a short ride to the police station. I turned Brown over to the cop at the desk, got my receipt, and took Lula back to the office so she could get her car.
“I’ll see you Monday,” Lula said. “Or sooner if you need me.”
I wasn’t planning on needing anyone. Okay, maybe Morelli. I was going to head home and take a shower. At six o’clock I’d bring a couple pizzas to Morelli’s house, and I’d spend the weekend there. If the weather was nice, I’d talk him into going to the shore. With any luck the kidnappers would realize the money was a lost cause and get on with their lives.
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