Seven Up

  “What crime-fighting gear are you talking about?”

  “I haven't totally thought it through, but I guess things like anti-gravitation socks that would let me walk up the sides of buildings. And a spray that would make me invisible.”

  “You sure your head feels okay where you were shot? You don't have a headache or feel dizzy?”

  “No. I feel fine. Hungry, maybe.”

  A LIGHT RAIN was falling when Mooner and I left Tina's shop.

  “That was a total experience,” Mooner said. “I felt like a bridesmaid.”

  I wasn't sure what I felt like. I tried bride on for size and found it didn't fit as well as big fat dope. I couldn't believe I let my mother talk me into trying on wedding gowns. What was I thinking? I smacked myself on the forehead with the heel of my hand and grunted.

  “Dude,” Mooner said.

  No shit. I turned the key in the ignition and shoved Godsmack into the CD player. I didn't want to think about the wedding fiasco, and there's nothing like metal to wipe your mind clean of anything resembling thought. I pointed the car in the direction of Mooner's house and by the time we got to Roebling, Mooner and I were doing serious head banging.

  We were strumming and flipping hair and I almost missed the white Cadillac. It was parked in front of Father Carolli's house, next to the church. Father Carolli is as old as dirt and has been in the Burg for as long as I can remember. It would make sense that he and Eddie DeChooch were friends, and that DeChooch would come to him for counsel.

  I said a short prayer that DeChooch was inside the house. I could apprehend him there. Inside the church was another matter. There was all that sanctuary stuff to worry about inside the church. And if my mother found out I violated the church there'd be hell to pay.

  I walked to Carolli's front door and knocked. No answer.

  Mooner waded through the shrubs and peered into a window. “Don't see anybody in here, dude.”

  We both looked to the church.

  Drat. Probably DeChooch was giving confession. Forgive me, Father, because 1 snuffed Loretta Ricci.

  “Okay,” I said, “let's try the church.”

  “Maybe I should go home and put my Super Dude Suit on.”

  “Not sure that would be right for church.”

  “Not dressy enough?”

  I opened the door to the church and squinted into the dim interior. On sunny days the church glowed with light streaming through the stained-glass windows. On rainy days the church felt bleak and without passion. Today the only warmth came from a few votive candles flickering in front of the Virgin Mary.

  The church seemed empty. No mumbling coming from the confessionals. No one at prayer. Just the candles burning and the smell of incense.

  I was about to leave when I heard someone giggle. The sound was coming from the altar area.

  “Hello,” I called. “Anyone here?”

  “Just us chickens.”

  It sounded like DeChooch.

  Mooner and I cautiously walked down the aisle and peeked around the altar. DeChooch and Carolli were sitting on the floor, their backs to the altar, sharing a bottle of red wine. An empty bottle lay on the floor a couple feet away.

  Mooner gave them a peace sign. “Dude,” he said.

  Father Carolli peaced him back and repeated the mantra. “Dude.”

  “What do you want?” DeChooch asked. “Can't you see I'm in church?”

  “You're drinking!”

  “It's medicinal. I'm depressed.”

  “You need to accompany me back to the courthouse so you can get bonded out again,” I said to DeChooch.

  DeChooch took a long drag on the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I'm in church. You can't arrest me in church. God'll be pissed. You'll rot in hell.”

  “It's a commanderment,” Carolli said.

  Mooner smiled. “These guys are shit-faced.”

  I searched through my bag and came up with cuffs.

  “Eek, cuffs,” DeChooch said. “I'm so scared.”

  I slapped the cuffs on his left wrist and grabbed for his other hand. DeChooch took a 9-mil out of his coat pocket, told Carolli to hold the free bracelet, and fired a round off at the chain. Both men yelped when the bullet severed the chain and sent shock waves up their boney arms.

  “Hey,” I said, “those cuffs cost sixty dollars.”

  DeChooch narrowed his eyes and stared at Mooner. “Do I know you?”

  “I'm the Mooner, dude. You've seen me at Dougie's house.” Mooner held up two fingers pressed tight together. “Dougie and me are like this. We're a team.”

  “I knew I recognized you!” DeChooch said. “I hate you and your rotten, thieving partner. I should have guessed Kruper wouldn't be in this alone.”

  “Dude,” Mooner said.

  DeChooch leveled the gun at Mooner. “Think you're smart, don't you? Think you can take advantage of an old man. Holding out for more money . . . is that your angle?”

  Mooner rapped on his head with his knuckles. “No grass growing here.”

  “I want it, now,” DeChooch said.

  “Happy to do business with you,” Mooner said. “What are we talking about here? Toasters or Super Suits?”

  “Asshole,” DeChooch said. And he squeezed off a shot that was aimed at Mooner's knee but missed by about six inches and zinged into the floor.

  “Cripes,” Carolli said, hands over his ears, “you're gonna make me go deaf. Put the piece away.”

  “I'll put it away after I make him talk,” DeChooch said. “He's got something that belongs to me.” DeChooch leveled the gun again, and Mooner took off up the aisle, at a dead run.

  In my mind I was heroic, knocking the gun out of DeChooch's hand. In real time I was paralyzed. Wave a gun under my nose and everything in my body turns to liquid.

  DeChooch got off another one that sailed by Mooner and took out a chunk of the baptismal font.

  Carolli smacked DeChooch in the back of the head with the flat of his hand. “Knock it off!”

  DeChooch stumbled forward and the gun discharged and shot a hole in a four-foot crucifixion painting hanging on the far wall.

  Our mouths dropped open. And we all made the sign of the cross.

  “Holy crap,” Carolli said. “You shot Jesus. That's gonna take a lot of Hail Marys.”

  “It was an accident,” DeChooch said. He squinted at the painting. “Where did I get him?”

  “In the knee.”

  “That's a relief,” DeChooch said. “At least it wasn't no place fatal.”

  “So about your court appearance,” I said. “I'd take it as a personal favor if you'd go down to the station with me and reschedule.”

  “Boy, you're a real pain in the ass,” DeChooch said. “How many times do I have to tell you . . . forget about it. I'm depressed. I'm not gonna go sit in jail when I'm feeling depressed. You ever been in jail?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Well, take my word for it, it's no place to be when you're depressed. And anyway, there's something I've got to do.”

  I was sorting through my bag. I had pepper spray in there somewhere. And probably my stun gun.

  “Besides, there's people looking for me, and they're a lot tougher than you,” DeChooch said. “And locking me up in jail would make it real easy for them to find me.”

  “I'm tough!”

  “Lady, you're amateur hour,” DeChooch said.

  I pulled out a can of hair spray, but I couldn't find the pepper spray. I needed better organization. Probably I should put the pepper spray and stun gun in the zipper compartment, but then I'd have to find another place for my gum and mints.

  “I'm going now,” DeChooch said. “And I don't want you to follow me or I'll have to shoot you.”

  “Just one question. What did you want from Mooner?”

  “That's private between him and me.”

  DeChooch left through a side door, and Carolli and I stared after him.

  “You just let
a murderer get away,” I said to Carolli. “You were sitting here drinking with a murderer!”

  “Nah. Choochy's no murderer. We go way back. He's got a real good heart.”

  “He tried to shoot Mooner.”

  “He got excited. Ever since that stroke he's been excitable like that.”

  “He had a stroke?”

  “Just a small one. Hardly counted at all. I've had worse strokes.”

  Oh boy.

  I caught up with Mooner half a block from his house. He was scooting along, running and walking, looking over his shoulder, doing the Mooner version of a rabbit fleeing the hounds. By the time I parked, Mooner was already through the door, had located a roach, and was lighting up.

  “People are shooting at you,” I said. “You shouldn't be smoking dope. Dope makes you stupid, and you need to be smart.”

  “Dude,” Mooner said on an exhale.

  Yeesh.

  I dragged Mooner out of his house and down to Dougie's house. We had a new development here. DeChooch was after something and he thought Dougie had it. And now he thinks Mooner's got it.

  “What was DeChooch talking about?” I asked Mooner. “What's he after?”

  “I don't know, man, but it's not a toaster.”

  We were standing in Dougie's living room. Dougie isn't the world's best housekeeper, but the room seemed unusually disrupted. Cushions were askew on the couch, and the coat closet door was open. I stuck my head into the kitchen and found a similar scene. The cabinet doors and counter drawers were open. The door to the cellar was open, and the door to the small pantry was open. I didn't remember things as looking like this last night.

  I dumped my bag onto the small kitchen table and pawed through the contents, picking out the pepper spray and stun gun.

  “Someone's been in here,” I said to Mooner.

  “Yeah, it happens a lot.”

  I turned and stared at him. “A lot?”

  “This is the third time this week. I figure someone's looking for our stash. And that old guy, what's with him? He was real friendly with Dougie, coming over to the house a second time and all. And now he's yelling at me. It's like, confusing, dude.”

  I stood there with my mouth open and my eyes slightly bulging for several beats. “Wait a minute, are you telling me DeChooch came back after he delivered the cigarettes?”

  “Yeah. Except I didn't know it was DeChooch. I didn't know his name. Dougie and me just called him the old dude. I was here when he dropped the cigs. Dougie called me to help unload the truck. And then he came back to see Dougie a couple days later. I didn't see him the second time. I just know from Dougie telling me.” Mooner took one last drag on the roach. “Boy, talk about a coincidence. Who would have thought you were looking for the old dude.”

  Mental head-slap.

  “I'm going to check the rest of the house. You stay here. If you hear me scream, call the police.”

  Am I brave, or what? Actually I was pretty sure no one was in the house. It had been raining for at least an hour, maybe more, and there were no signs that someone had come in with wet feet. Most likely, the house was searched last night after we left.

  I flipped the light switch for the cellar and started down the stairs. It was a small house and a small cellar, and I didn't have to go far to see that the cellar had been thoroughly searched and abandoned. I did the second story next and had the same experience. Boxes in the cellar and in the extra bedroom had been ripped open and emptied onto the floor.

  Clearly, Mooner had no idea what DeChooch was after. Mooner wasn't smart enough to be devious.

  “Is anything missing?” I asked Mooner. “Has Dougie ever noticed anything missing after the house is searched?”

  “A rump roast.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I swear to God. There was a rump roast in the freezer and someone took it. It was a small one. Two and a half pounds. It was left over from a side of beef Dougie happened to come across. You know . . . fell off a truck. It was all that was left of it. We saved it for ourselves in case we felt like cooking something someday.”

  I returned to the kitchen and checked out the freezer and refrigerator. Ice cream and a frozen pizza in the freezer. Coke and leftover pizza in the refrigerator.

  “This is a real downer,” Moon said. “The house doesn't feel right without the Dougster here.”

  I hated to admit it, but I needed help with DeChooch. I suspected he held the key to Dougie, and he kept walking away from me.

  CONNIE WAS GETTING ready to close up the office when Mooner and I walked in. “I'm glad you're here,” she said. “I have an FTA for you. Roseanne Kreiner. Businesswoman of the ho variety. Has her office on the corner of Stark and Twelfth. Accused of beating the crap out of one of her clients. Guess he didn't want to pay for services rendered. She shouldn't be hard to find. Probably didn't want to give up work time to go to court.”

  I took the file from Connie and stuffed it into my bag. “Hear anything from Ranger?”

  “He delivered his man this morning.”

  Hooray. Ranger was back. I could get Ranger to help me.

  I called his number, but there was no answer. I left a message and tried his pager. A moment later my cell phone rang and a rush skittered through my stomach. Ranger.

  “Yo,” Ranger said.

  “I could use some help with an FTA.”

  “What's your problem?”

  “He's old, and I'll look like a loser if I shoot him.”

  I could hear Ranger laughing at the other end. “What's he done?”

  “Everything. It's Eddie DeChooch.”

  “Do you want me to talk to him?”

  “No. I want you to give me some ideas on how to bring him in without killing him. I'm afraid if I zap him with the stun gun he'll go toes-up.”

  “Tag team him with Lula. Bookend him and cuff him.”

  “Already tried that.”

  “He got away from you and Lula? Babe, he must be eighty. He can't see. He can't hear. He takes an hour and a half to empty his bladder.”

  “It was complicated.”

  “You could try shooting him in the foot next time,” Ranger said. “That usually works.” And he severed the connection.

  Great.

  I called Morelli next.

  “I've got news for you,” Morelli said. “I ran into Costanza when I went out for the paper. He said the autopsy report came in on Loretta Ricci, and she died of a heart attack.”

  “And then she was shot?”

  “You got it, Cupcake.”

  Too weird.

  “I know this is your day off, but I was wondering if you'd do me a favor,” I said to Morelli.

  “Oh boy.”

  “I was hoping you'd baby-sit Mooner. He's tied up in this DeChooch mess, and I don't know if it's safe to leave him alone in my apartment.”

  “Bob and I are all set to watch the game. We've been planning this all week.”

  “Mooner can watch it with you. I'll drop him off.”

  I hung up before Morelli could say no.

  ROSEANNE KREINER WAS standing on her corner, in the rain, looking totally wet and pissed off. If I was a guy I wouldn't let her within twenty feet of my wanger. She was dressed in high-heeled boots and a black garbage bag. It was hard to tell what she was wearing under the bag. Maybe nothing. She was pacing and waving at passing cars, and when the cars didn't stop she'd give them the finger. Her arrest sheet said she was fifty-two.

  I pulled to the curb and rolled my window down. “Do you do women?”

  “Honey, I do pigs, cows, ducks, and women. You got the dime I put in my time. Twenty for a hand thing. You go into overtime if you take all day.”

  I showed her a twenty, and she got into the car. I hit the auto door locks and took off for the police station.

  “Any side street will do,” she said.

  “I have a confession.”

  “Oh shit. Are you a cop? Tell me you're not a cop.”

  “I'm
not a cop. I'm bond enforcement. You missed your court date and you have to reschedule.”