'I used to work on this street when I was a 'ho,' Lula said.
'No kidding?' Grandma said. 'Isn't that something. Are there any working ladies out now? I sure would like to see one.'
We kept a look out for working ladies but none turned up.
'Slow time of the day,' Lula said.
Lula made a right onto Fisher, went one block, and parked in front of a narrow two-story house that looked like it was decaying from the bottom up. Clearly it had once been part of a row of attached houses, but the houses on either side had disappeared and only their connecting walls remained. The lots had been mostly cleared of debris, but the landscaping was war zone. An occasional piece of pipe remained, mixed into smatterings of crushed rubble that hadn't made the last truck out. A nine-foot-high razor wire fence had been erected around each of the lots. Refrigerators, washing machines, gas grills, lawn furniture, and a couple ATVs, all with varying degrees of rust, were displayed in the one lot. The second lot was filled with cars.
These lots are owned by a guy named Hog,' Lula said. 'Besides the lots he's got a garage on the next block. He buys junker cars at auction, fixes them up enough to get them running, and then sells them to dummies like us. Sometimes he gets cars from other sources, but we don't want to talk about that.'
Those would be the cars without registration?' I asked.
'Hog can get a registration for any car you want,' Lula said. It's just you gotta pay extra for it.'
Grandma was out of the Firebird. Those lawn chairs with the yellow cushions look pretty nice,' she said. 'I might have to take a look at them.'
I jumped out after her and grabbed her by the purse strap.
'Don't leave my side. Don't wander off. Don't talk to anyone.'
A large guy with skin the color of hot chocolate and a body like a cement truck strolled over to us. 'Lula tells me somebody wants to buy a car,' he said. 'You be happy to know you came to the right place because we got some fine cars here.'
'We don't want too fine a car,' Lula said. 'We're sort of shopping for a bargain.'
'How much of a bargain?
'Two hundred dollars and that includes plates and registration.'
'That don't even cover my overhead. I got expenses. I got middlemen.'
'Your middlemen are all in jail,' Lula said. 'The only expenses you got is filling your car with gas so you can drive over to the workhouse to pick up your sorry-ass relatives.'
'Ouch,' Hog said. That's nasty. You're getting me all excited.'
Lula gave him a smack on the side of the head.
'I love when you do that,' Hog said.
'Do you have a car, or what?' Lula said. 'Because we can go down the street to Greasy Louey.'
"Course I got a car,' Hog said. 'Don't I always have a car? Have
I ever failed you?' He looked at Grandma and me. 'Which of you lovely ladies is buying this car?'
The,' I said.
'What color you want?'
'A two-hundred-dollar color.'
He turned and considered the motley collection of cars huddled together behind the razor wire. Two hundred dollars don't get you much of a car. Maybe you be better to rent a car from Hog.' He walked over to a silver Sentra. 'I just got this car. It needs some body work, but it's structurally sound.'
Needs some body work was a gross understatement. The hood was crumpled and attached to the car with duct tape. And the left rear quarter panel was missing.
The thing is,' I said to Hog, 'I need a car that blends in. People would notice this car. They'd remember that they saw a car with only three fenders.'
'Not in this neighborhood,' Hog said. 'We got lots of cars look like this.'
'Look at her,' Lula said. 'She look like she gonna spend a lot of time in this neighborhood?'
'How about this car?' Grandma called out from across the lot. 'I like this car.'
She was standing in front of a purple Lincoln Town Car that was about a block long. It had terminal rust creeping up from the undercarriage, but the hood was attached in the normal fashion, and it had all its fenders.
'You could put a whole pack of killers in this car,' Grandma said.
'I didn't hear that,' Hog said. 'Don't matter to me who you hang with.'
"We don't hang with them. We arrest them,' Grandma said. 'My granddaughter's a bounty hunter. This here's Stephanie Plum,' she said proudly. 'She's famous.'
'Oh crap,' Hog said, eyes bugged out. 'Are you shitting me? Get out of here. You think I want to die?' He craned his neck, looking beyond us, up and down the street. 'Not only would the brothers like to get hold of her, I hear they brought someone special in from the coast.' He scrambled behind a car, putting some distance between the two of us. 'Go away. Shoo.'
'Shoo? Lula said. 'Did I hear you say shoo?'
'Some Slayer ride by here I be a dead man,' Hog said. 'Get her off my lot.'
'We came here to buy a car, and that's what we're gonna do,'
Lula said.
Fine. Take a car,' Hog said. 'Take anything. Just go away.'
'We want this pretty purple car,' Grandma said.
Hog gave Grandma another of the bug-eyed looks. 'Lady, that's an expensive car. That's a Lincoln Town Car. That's no two-hundred-dollar car!'
We wouldn't want to cheat you,' Lula said. 'So we'll just wander around awhile and see if we like something less expensive.'
'No. Don't do that,' Hog said. Take the friggin' Lincoln. I got the keys in the house. I'll just be a minute.'
'Don't forget the plates and the registration,' Lula said.
Five minutes later, I had a temporary plate taped to my rearview window, Grandma was strapped into the passenger seat, and
Lula was a car length ahead of us, en route back to the office.
'I feel like a movie star in this car,' Grandma said. 'It's like a big limousine. Not everybody can afford a car like this, you know. It must have belonged to somebody special.'
A gangster or a pimp, I thought.
'And it rides real smooth,' Grandma said.
I had to admit the ride was smooth. The car was about the same size as Sally's bus and took two lanes to make a corner, but the ride was smooth.
Lula and I parked in front of the bonds office, and we all got out to reorganize.
'Now what?' Lula said. 'Are we going after Harold Pancek?'
'Yeah,' Grandma said. 'Are we going after Harold Pancek?'
'Lula and I are going after Harold Pancek,' I said. 'I should take you home first.'
'No way! What if you need an old lady to quiet him down?'
My mother would cut me off from pineapple upside-down cake for the rest of my life if she knew I took Grandma on a bust. Then again, I'd just driven Grandma down Stark Street, so I was most likely screwed already.
'Okay,' I said. 'You can go with us, but you have to stay in the car.'
I felt obligated to say this but it was an empty demand because
Grandma never stayed in the car. Grandma was always the first out of the car. I was taking her along because I really didn't think we were going to find Pancek at home. Pancek had been here for a couple years but hadn't seemed to put down roots. According to
Connie's background search, Pancek's relatives and longtime friends were in Newark. I was guessing that after last night Pancek skipped back to Newark.
A gray late-model sedan drove by, hooked a U-turn in the middle of traffic, and parked behind the purple Lincoln. Morelli.
'Uh oh.' Lula said to me. 'You got that look.'
'What look is that?'
That oh shit look. That's not a look from a woman who got some last night.'
'It's complicated.'
'I've been hearing that a lot lately,' Lula said.
Morelli got out of the car and walked over, looking like a cop who'd just gotten rear-ended. The anger was tightly controlled, and the gait was deceptively relaxed.
Isn't this a nice coincidence,' Grandma said to Morelli. 'I didn't expect to see you until tomorrow nig
ht.'
Neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow, nor shoe sale at Macys could get me out of Saturday dinner with my parents. Like a spawning salmon, I was expected to return to my birthplace. Unlike a salmon, I didn't die, although sometimes I wished I could, and the migration took place weekly.
'I need to talk to Stephanie,' Morelli said with his best effort at a pleasant smile, his hand at my neck, his fingers curled into the back of my shirt to discourage escape.
'Gee, we were right in the middle of something,' I said. 'Can it wait?'
'Afraid not,' Morelli said. 'We need to talk now.'
I followed him to his car, and we stood with our backs to Lula and Grandma to keep them from eavesdropping.
'Gotcha,' Morelli said.
'Now what?'
'Now I take you back to my house and lock you in the bathroom.
If you're real nice to me, I'll bring the television in for you.'
'You're not serious.'
'About the television? Afraid not, I've only got one, and I'm not lugging it up the stairs.'
I gave him one of those looks that said get real.
There's a contract on you,' Morelli said, 'and I ride by and see you standing here like a duck in a shooting gallery. A dead girlfriend doesn't do me much good.'
Well, at least he thought I was still his girlfriend. 'I was hoping the contract was just rumor.'
'My sources tell me there's a guy in town from LA. He goes by the street name Junkman, and it is widely believed he was brought in by the Slayers to take you out. From all reports, this is a very bad guy. Lots of talk about him. Virtually no useable information. At this point, we don't even have a description.'
'How do you know he's real?'
The sources are good. And the brothers on the street are scared.
Just so you don't feel too special, it appears you aren't the only one on his list. It's said to include a cop and two rival gang members.'
'Who's the cop?'
'Someone in gang intelligence. We don't have a name.'
1 think it's sweet of you to want to lock me in your bathroom, but it doesn't fit into my plans. And last time I was in your house we had a major disagreement over all this.'
Morelli ran a fingertip around the scoop neckline of my T-shirt.
'First of all, it wasn't much of a disagreement. A disagreement in my family involves restraining orders and bloodshed. Second, I like this little white T-shirt.' He hooked a finger into the neckline and looked inside.
'Excuse me?' I said.
'Just checking.' More of the smile.
'You wouldn't really lock me in your bathroom, would you?'
'Yep.'
That might be considered kidnapping.'
'Your word against mine.'
'And it's disgustingly arrogant and macho.'
'Yeah,' Morelli said. That's the best part.'
I looked back at Grandma and Lula. 'How do you expect to accomplish this?'
'I thought I'd drag you into my car and carry you kicking and screaming into my house.'
'In front of Grandma and Lula?'
'No,' Morelli said. 'I can't do it in front of your grandmother.'
The smile faded. 'Can we get serious? This isn't just rumor. These guys are out to get you.'
'What am I supposed to do? I live here. I can't go into hiding for the rest of my life.'
Morelli's pager buzzed, and he looked at the readout. `I hate this thing,' he said. 'You're going to be careful?'
'Yes.'
'You're going to get off the street?'
'Yes.'
He gave me a fast kiss on the forehead and took off.
Grandma and Lula watched Morelli drive away.
'I don't usually like cops,' Lula said, 'but he's hot.'
'He's a looker all right,' Grandma said. 'And he's got a way about him. There's nothing like a man with a gun.'
'He don't get his way from a gun,' Lula said. 'His way is natural born.'
I did some mental knuckle cracking and sidled up to the big purple Lincoln, hoping it would shield me from potential sniper fire. Morelli had done a good job of rattling my nerves. Stating the obvious to Morelli, that I lived in Trenton and couldn't hide for the rest of my life, wasn't a declaration made from bravery. It was a declaration tinged with desperation and maybe even a little hysteria. I was backed into a corner, the victim of circumstances.
And I was at a loss how to fix it.
The best I could come up with on short notice was a temporary survival plan. Hide out in Rangers apartment at night. Search for
Pancek by day. The Pancek search was a good thing because I suspected after our initial trip to Canter Street, the search would shift to Newark, far away from the Slayers.
'Everybody in the car,' I said. 'We're going on a Harold hunt.'
I docked the Lincoln in front of Pancek's row house, and we all got out and stood on the stoop while I rang the bell. There was no answer, of course. I rang again. I dialed his number on my cell phone. We could hear the phone ring on the other side of the door.
The machine picked up. I left a message.
'Hi, this is Stephanie Plum,' I said. 'I need to talk to you.' I left my cell number and disconnected.
I tried Pancek's next-door neighbor.
'He left early this morning,' she said. 'Must have been around seven. I went out to get the paper, and he was loading up his car.
Usually you take grocery bags into the house, but he was taking them out.'
'Did he say anything?'
'No. But that wasn't unusual. He's sort of an odd guy. Not real friendly. Lived in there all alone. I never saw anyone else go in.
Guess he didn't have a lot of friends.'
I left my card with her, and I asked her to call if Pancek returned.
'Now what?* Grandma wanted to know. `I'm ready to catch this guy. Where do we go next?'
'Newark. His family is in Newark.'
'I don't know if I can go with you,' Grandma said. `I'm supposed to go to the mall with Midgie Herrel at one o'clock.'
I took Route 1 to Route 18 and got on the Jersey Turnpike.
Grandma was home, waiting for Midgie. Sally, Valerie, and my mom were busy planning the wedding. Lula was sailing along with me in the purple Lincoln, riding shotgun, nosing through a big bag of food we bought before leaving Trenton.
'What do you want first?' she asked. 'You want a sandwich or a
Tastykake?
'The sandwich.' We had about forty Tastykakes. We couldn't choose which land we wanted, so we got a bunch of everything. I have a cousin who works at the Tastykake factory in Philadelphia, and she said they make 439,000 Butterscotch Krimpets a day. I intended to eat three of them when I was done with the sub. And maybe I'd follow them up with a coconut layer cake. It's important to keep your strength up on a manhunt.
By the time we got to Newark, Lula and I had almost emptied the food bag. My jeans were feeling unusually tight and my stomach felt seasick. I suspected the queasy stomach was more fear of death than overeating. Still, it would have been good if I'd stopped after the third Tastykake.
Panceks mother had posted the bond. I had her address plus the address of Panceks former apartment. I knew Pancek drove a dark blue Honda Civic, and I had his plate number. It would be nice to find the Civic parked in front of one of the addresses.
Lula was reading a map, directing me through Newark. 'Turn left at the next corner,' she said. 'His mommas house is on the first block, two houses in on the right side.' nine
Lula and I were in a neighborhood that looked a lot like parts of the Burg. The homes were modest redbrick row houses, their front stoops set into sidewalk. Cars were parked on both sides, narrowing the street to barely two lanes. It was early afternoon and not much was happening. We drove past Pancek's mother's house, looking for the Civic. We did a four-block grid but came up empty.
By late afternoon we'd talked to Pancek's mother, two former neighbors, his former girlfriend, and his best buddy fro
m high school. No one was giving Pancek up, and we hadn't run across his car.