Page 22 of Fearless Fourteen


  He wants the nine million dollars. Problem is, we don't have it, and we don't know where it's located. The police are involved, and we're making progress at getting your mom back, but you have to be patient.“ ”That is so sucky,“ he said. ”You're right,“ I said on a sigh. ”It is totally sucky.“ Mooner and Gary were waiting on Morelli's front steps when I pulled to the curb with Zook. They were dressed in Army fatigues, and they stood and saluted when I parked the car. Zook and I burst out laughing. ”I know they're goofy,“ I said to Zook, ”but I like them. They're in the moment.“ I unlocked Morelli's front door, and Bob rushed out and ran around in circles. He did some yelping and grunting, and then he hunched and pooped out my underwear. ”Whoa,“ Mooner said. ”Victoria's Secret colonic, dude. Far out.“ Bob ran back into the house the instant he was done, and we all followed. Eventually, I'd come out in rubber gloves and contamination suit and scoop up the deposit, but for now I was walking away from it. ”Where did you get the clothes?“ I asked Mooner. ”Army surplus. We got some for the Zookster, too.“ ”We changed the patches,“ Gary said. ”We made them say “Homegrown Security.”“ I got everyone settled in the living room with chips and pretzels and sodas. I phoned for pizza. I asked about Zook's homework. How bizarre was this? It was like running a day-care facility. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? I mean, who am I? I was raised to have traditional values, but I screwed up on my first marriage big-time, I took an odd job, and now I love two men. One is definite husband-and-father material. The other ... I don't know what to think of the other. And now here I was, doing my ”mother cat“ impersonation. The doorbell rang and I went to answer it. I opened the door and didn't bother to hold back the grimace. It was Brenda and her film crew. ”How about it?“ she said. ”Have you thought of anything?“ ”No.“ ”Make something up. You've got an imagination, right? This is the news. It doesn't have to be real.“ ”I thought that was the whole purpose of the news... to report real stuff.“ ”Oh puhleeze. You don't actually believe that crap. You think we could get ratings with real stuff? The news people make up entire wars. Listen, all you have to do is find something sexy to say about the money. Like, “Tall, dark and handsome Morelli was taking a nap, and he woke up and thought he heard a noise in the yard, so he rushed out naked and tackled some guy who was digging with a shovel, and Morelli saw a couple hundred-dollar bills sticking out of the ground.”“ Brenda smiled. ”See? It's easy."

  “I'd like to help you, but I don't think I could pull that off.”

  “Of course, you can. Look at me. I can do it, and I'm not that good. I'm just motivated. I've got a three-million-dollar house in Brentwood with a mortgage big enough to choke a horse.” She looked at the guys on the couch. “Is that Gary?”

  Gary waved at her. “I'm lurking.”

  “No shit,” she said. “What's with the uniform? Did you join the Army?”

  “Homegrown Security,” Gary said. “I'm a gunnery officer.”

  “Great,” Brenda said. “Perfect. A gunnery officer. That makes me feel real safe.”

  “Yeah, but you still have to watch out for the pizza,” Gary said.

  Brenda's face brightened. “Maybe I could do a feature on stalkers. We could film you stalking me,” she said to Gary.

  “I appreciate the offer, but no, thanks,” Gary said. “I haven't got time to stalk right now. I promised the guys I'd lurk, and I'm on standby with Homegrown.”

  Brenda narrowed her eyes at Mooner. “You stole my stalker.”

  “No way, the Mooner doesn't steal. He, like, borrows sometimes, but he's got a code. He's protecting his oneness.”

  “Oneness, my ass,” Brenda said. “I could own you like a cheap suit.”

  “Whoa,” Mooner said. “Have you been talking to the wood elves?”

  The soundman was standing behind Brenda. “If we don't get film to the studio soon, we'll miss our spot.”

  “I'm not missing my spot,” Brenda said, turning from me and storming off the porch.

  I closed the door and peeked out the living room window at her. She was standing over Bob's poo while the cameraman zoomed in for a closer look.

  “And here we have a suspicious substance on Joe Morelli's front lawn,” Brenda said into her mic. “It would appear that the dog in this household has been fed a thong. Clearly a case for investigation by...” She looked over at the soundman. “Who investigates this shit?”

  Stephanie Plum 14 - Fearless Forteen

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Lula was ON my cell phone. “I'm two minutes away,” she said. “Be out front. I'm in a consultation for my wedding gown, and I need an opinion. You gotta go back to the bride store with me.”

  “Okay, but I can't stay away too long. I don't like leaving Zook on his own.”

  “Don't he have Homegrown Security with him?”

  “Yeah, that's part of the problem.”

  I grabbed my purse, told everyone I'd be back soon and I was on my cell if an emergency arose, and I ran out of the house. The Firebird careened around the corner and slid to a stop in front of me. Lula was behind the wheel in a silky bathrobe.

  “I got a hour appointment with these bitches,” she said, “and the clock's ticking.”

  “You're in a bathrobe.”

  “It took less time than getting back in my clothes.”

  I fastened my seat belt and we rocketed away. “I thought you were having second thoughts about marrying an alcoholic.”

  “Yeah, but I had this appointment, and I didn't want to lose it. I might have to wait weeks to get another appointment. I mean, even if I don't marry Tank, chances are good I'll marry someone else someday. Might as well get the gown, I figure.”

  “You might want to rethink that plan.”

  “Yeah, it's insane, right? It's that I have momentum. You see what I'm saying? It's all in motion and it don't stop. Turns out, that's how it is with weddings. You just keep getting in deeper and deeper until you want to throw up.”

  Lula hooked a left, cut across traffic, and zipped into the small parking lot that attached to the bridal salon. We got out and hurried into the showroom.

  “You sit down, and I'll put the gown on,” Lula said.

  I was halfway through a magazine when she rustled out of the dressing room.

  The gown was brilliant white satin and fit like skin from Lula's ankles to her armpits. It was strapless and had a bustle in the back over her ass and a twelve-foot train that stretched out behind her.

  “We like this one because it's so slimming,” the saleswoman said. “We think it hugs her curves and is very flattering. She's a lucky lady that we had her size in stock.”

  “All it needs is some of them crystal beads to make it sparkle,” Lula said.

  “They said they could sew them on.”

  The gown was slimming because it was two sizes too small and squished in all Lula's fat and pushed it up until there was no more gown.

  She was spilling out of the top in rolls of Lula. She had cleavage everywhere... front, back, side.

  “It's pretty,” I said, “but there seems to be a lot of you oozing over the top. Maybe you should go up a size.”

  “They don't got this in a bigger size,” Lula said. “And anyway, I don't want it too big on account of I'm planning to lose some weight.”

  I heard something pop and fly off the back of the dress, and the zipper burst open.

  “Hunh,” Lula said. “This here seems to be shoddy workmanship.”

  Ten minutes later, Lula dropped me at Morelli's.

  “Boy,” Lula said. “I dodged that bullet. Those people don't know how to sew.”

  “You might consider getting married in a dress instead of a gown,” I said. “It wouldn't even have to be white.”

  “And it could be more representative of my outgoing personality,” Lula said.

  “It could be animal print. You know how I'm partial to animal print.”

  “And it would be practical because you could wear it even if you didn't get married.


  “I'm psyched,” Lula said. “I'm going to the mall. You want to come?”

  “No. Morelli should be getting off his shift right about now and I need to talk to him.”

  I was in the kitchen, eating pizza, when Morelli rolled in. He helped himself to a piece from the box and went to the refrigerator in search of beer.

  “My refrigerator is filled with potatoes,” he said, door open, face bathed in refrigerator light. “They're everywhere. I've got potatoes in the egg holder.”

  “Ammo. I think the beer is behind the half-baked.”

  He moved some potatoes around and grunted when he found the beer. “Zook's a terrific kid, but I feel displaced. Bad enough Mooner is always here, now we've got Gary. Once, I got up in the middle of the night to get water, and I swear I saw him sitting in a lawn chair in front of my garage.”

  “Imagine that,” I said. “How odd.”

  “Have you heard from the partner?”

  “No. The ball's in our court.”

  Morelli took a second piece of pizza. “This is bad. Either someone is leaking information or the guy is inside.”

  “Or maybe he's some genius computer geek that can tap into phones and computers.”

  Morelli shook his head. “That only happens in the movies. This guy knew about the van and the money. I didn't tell anyone, and Spanner swears he didn't tell anyone. I know the Fed who's running the show, and I can't see him telling anyone.”

  “What about the sack of shit?”

  “Larry Skid? He could leak. And there were some other people working details. Looking at it in retrospect, we should have played it tighter, but there's always all this chain-of-command crap.”

  “I assume the department is investigating.”

  “Yes, but there's not much to go on. Truth is, some of this op went through the bureaucracy. The van needed to be requisitioned, the storage facility had to be cleared, yada yada.”

  I checked to make sure Zook wasn't listening and I lowered my voice. “He said he would cut Loretta's hand off at noon tomorrow if he doesn't have the money.”

  “He's sick,” Morelli said. “He's caught up in the drama. If he was thinking sanely, he'd back off and wait. There's no way he's going to drive away with nine million dollars. It was a good plan when they executed it ten years ago, but it's not a good plan now that the police are involved.”

  “I suppose he figures he can stay ahead of the game if he can force me to locate the money and drive the van to him without telling anyone.”

  Morelli cut his eyes to me. “You wouldn't do that, would you?”

  “Of course not,” I said. And we both knew I would.

  Problem was, I had the key but I didn't know what to do with it. And I had no way to reach Dom. I suspected Dom and the fourth partner had the same dilemma.

  Dom had always talked to Zero and Gratelli.

  “I can practically see the wheels turning in your head,” Morelli said. “What are you thinking?”

  “I'm thinking this is pathetic. There's no communication between the major players here. Dom and I have identical goals right now, but we can't get anything done because I can't get in touch with him.”

  “Connie couldn't pull up a cell number?”

  “No. Nothing for Dom. And the partner has me calling him on Zero's phone. I had Connie run it.”

  “Let's go obvious,” Morelli said. “We think Dom watches the house, so make a sign and hang it in the living room window. ”Have key. Call me.“” I ran upstairs to Morelli's office and used black magic marker on a piece of computer paper. I brought the sign downstairs and taped it to the window. “We only have a couple hours of daylight where he can read it,” I said to Morelli. “No problem. I'll hook up a spot.” We moved Zook and Mooner and Gary into the dining room, and Morelli and Bob and I sat in front of the television, waiting for the call. At ten o'clock, I got a call, but it was from the wrong person. “You must be kidding,” he said. It was the fourth partner. “What?” He sighed into the phone. “You don't have any way of getting in touch with this idiot, either, do you?” “You mean Dom? No.” “You better hope he sees your sign, because I'm running out of patience.” And he disconnected. “That was the fourth partner,” I told Morelli. “He saw the sign.” At ten-thirty, I had a problem. I didn't know how to get out of the house to meet Ranger without Morelli going postal. Take the cowards way out, I thought. Go out the bathroom window and deal with Morelli when you get home. I didn't want anyone to think I was kidnapped, so I wrote a message on the toilet lid with my eyeliner pencil. Be back soon. Don't worry. I climbed out the window onto the small overhang that shelters the back stoop. Morelli's house is almost identical to my parents' house, and this was the route I'd used all through high school to sneak out with my friends. I rolled off the edge of the roof and lowered myself down. I felt hands at my waist, and I got an assist from Morelli. “Dammit,” I said to him. “How did you know?” “I have the windows attached to the new alarm system. It dings when you open them. What are you doing?” “I'm meeting Ranger, and you don't want any more information than that.” “Wrong.” He glanced at his garage. “It looks like the light is on.” “Gary has his camper parked in there.” Morelli was silent for a couple beats. “Notice I'm not yelling,” he said to me. “Yeah, but I think the roots of your hair are smoking.” “How long has Gary been squatting in my garage?” “A couple days.” Morelli opened the back door for me. “Get in the house.” Fine with me. My car was parked out front. Now I didn't have to walk halfway around the block. “I won't be long,” I told Morelli, wasting no time getting through the kitchen and dining room. “Maybe an hour.” Morelli was close behind me. “Is this about Loretta?” “Yep.” “I'm going with you.” “That's not a good idea.” “Why not?” “You don't want to know,” I told him. “And Ranger is in on this?” “He's not in on it. I asked him to help me. He has skills I lack.” “Such as?” “He's good with locks.” “You're right. I don't want to know, but if anything happens to you, I'll go after Ranger, and it won't be pretty.” “Nothing's going to happen.” Probably. I ran to my car and took off. The fourth partner saw the sign, and that meant he was watching the house. I didn't want to be followed, so I wound around in the Burg, looking for headlights behind me. When I felt absolutely safe, I cut across town to Route 1 and headed for Stanley Zero's apartment complex. Ranger was already there when I pulled into the lot. He was in his black Porsche Turbo, watching the building. I parked next to him, and he got out. He was wearing black jeans and T-shirt and a black windbreaker. Nothing with the Rangeman insignia. He looked at my ghoulish complexion and smiled. “Long story,” I said. “I know the story. I'm just sorry I missed seeing you before you faded.” We walked to the entrance, and when we got to the door, he draped an arm across my shoulders. We were a couple, home from date night. When Ranger got close to me like this, I could smell his Bulgari shower gel. I've used the same gel, and the scent is fleeting on me. It lingers on Ranger. Zero's apartment was sealed with yellow crime scene tape. A DO not enter notice was tacked to the door. Ranger peeled the tape back, used a pick on the lock, and in seconds we were inside. Nothing keeps Ranger out when he wants to get in. I've seen him open a door when a slide bolt was thrown. It's borderline eerie. We pulled on disposable gloves and methodically moved through the apartment. There were smudges where the crime lab had searched for prints, and marks on the carpet where the body had fallen. “I'm looking for something that might give me the identity of Dominic Rizzi's fourth partner,” I told Ranger. “Either the killer swept the apartment, or else the crime lab did an unusually thorough evidence collection,” Ranger said. “I'm not finding anything. No cell phone, no computer, no address book.” “I had a few minutes to look around after I discovered the body, and I don't remember seeing a computer or phone. I went through all his pockets, with the exception of the clothes he was wearing. I couldn't bring myself to touch the body.” “He was dressed?” “In jeans and a shirt. His boots were beside the bed.” “Th
ey're still there,” Ranger said. He walked into the bedroom and picked up one of the boots. “I know it's a cliche, but people really do hide things in their shoes.” He removed the padded insert and found a scrap of paper with a phone number on it. “Damn,” I said. “You're good.” Ranger smiled. “That's what they tell me. Do you recognize the number?” “No, but it's local.” Ranger called his control room and gave them the number. Two minutes later, the answer came back. The number belonged to Alma Rizzi. So Dom was using his mother's cell phone, and Zero hadn't wanted to share that information with his partner. He didn't trust himself to remember the number, so he hid it in his shoe. This was quite the group of guys. I dialed the number, but there was no answer. “Nothing in the other boot,” Ranger said. “I think we've done as much as we can here.” We let ourselves out, took the stairs, crossed the small lobby, and walked to our cars. “Not much of a date,” Ranger said. “Not true. I got a phone number.” He kissed me on the cheek. “You could have gotten more than a phone number.” “I'll take a rain check.” Morelli remoted the television off when I walked into the house. He stood and stretched. “Well?” “Someone picked Zero's apartment clean.” “You didn't find anything?” “No.” Our eyes held for a moment, and he didn't ask anything more and I didn't tell. I trusted Morelli, but he was a cop, after all. And the cops didn't have a good track record on this operation. It was four in the morning, and I was wide awake, trying not to thrash around and disturb Morelli. I couldn't stop thinking about the fourth partner. He was out there, moving through his day as a normal person. This guy who could kill his friends and mutilate a mother. He did his mundane job and talked sports scores while he drank coffee with his friends. And he was watching Morelli's house and monitoring police action. How was he doing that? When the bedside clock hit five-thirty, I got dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and sneakers. I went downstairs, made coffee, and dialed Dom. Still no answer. I could hear Morelli moving around upstairs. It was a workday. I was pacing when he came into the kitchen. “What's the special occasion?” he asked. “You're never up this early.” “I couldn't sleep. Loretta will lose her hand today if I don't figure this out.” “It's not your fault.” “I know that. I just don't want it to happen.” “Me, either. I'm still on the gang killings, but Spanner's keeping me in the loop. The Feds are nuts that the op got blown. They're on everyone's ass.” “You went door-to-door, right? You talked to all your neighbors?” “Everyone on the street. I covered three blocks.” He poured coffee into a travel mug and capped it. “I have an early meeting. I'll grab a bagel on the way in.” He kissed me on the top of my head. “I have to go. Be careful. This guy is a real crazy. Don't piss him off. I'll try to keep in touch.” I fed Bob and hooked him to his leash. “Time for a walk,” I told him. I knew we were missing something, and walking Bob would give me a chance to look around. The fourth partner was close. He saw the sign intended for Dom. He saw the scarf. And he was the one who broke into Morelli's house and got the key. He knew when Morelli and I left the house to take Grandma home. I walked two blocks in each direction, several times. The guy was so close, I could practically smell him, but I couldn't put my finger on him. Zook was eating breakfast when I returned. He looked up expectantly. “Hang in there,” I told him. “She's okay, isn't she?” “Yes.” Alive is okay, right? Worse things in life than missing a toe or two. I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but I'm not sure I totally pulled it off. I drove Zook to school and rode around Morelli's block. I cruised by his house and looked up at the second-floor windows. They were visible from the street, but I was having a hard time thinking this guy was constantly driving by. He was squirreled away somewhere, and he could see the house. I kept a gym bag in the back. It held bounty hunter stuff. Cuffs, shackles, stun gun, Cheez Doodles, flashlight, and binoculars. I grabbed the binoculars out of the bag and brought them into the house. I ran up the stairs and trained the glasses on the houses across the street. I looked in all the windows. I looked at the front yards and the cars parked in front of the houses. I looked over the roofs to see if line of sight carried to any houses on the next block. I put the binoculars down and pressed my fingers to my eyeballs. Think, Stephanie. What are you missing? There has to be something. I raised the binoculars again and ran them across the housetops. And there it was ... a camera. It was positioned on the roof, directly across from Morelli. I don't know how I missed it. I suppose I just wasn't looking for it before. I called Ranger on my cell. “I need some technical information,” I said to him. “Can you mount a camera somewhere, like on a roof, and access it from somewhere else? I mean, do you need wires and things?” "No. You can transmit wireless. If you're going a distance, you need relays.